#isekai reader

[cybergoth1]

beyond the cowl | chapter 01 | batfamily x isekaide!reader

masterlist | prologue | chapter 02.

synopsis: ❛❛you're just a normal twenty-one-year old girl trying to navigate life with a shitty job and a useless degree. life isn't easy, and between expensive therapy sessions and the constant feeling of failure, you suddenly wake up in a body that wasn't yours, with a past that wasn't yours. now, in another dimension, you're dealing with the fact that you're a crucial part of the caped crusade that shaped bruce wayne's life. you're the second robin, the former girl wonder, and the vigilant gotham needed so much.❞

warnings/tags: swearing. avoiding body descriptions like the plague. the bat boys being themselves. there's a tiny reference to 'nightwing: year one'.

When you woke up for the second time, the room was already shrouded in complete darkness, with only faint slivers of light slipping through the loosely drawn curtains. Your head felt heavy, and your ears rang as you slowly opened your eyes, wearily gazing at the white ceiling. The soft silk fabric against your skin felt like a warm embrace as you took a deep breath, trying to use your rational side to keep yourself from panicking again.

The tips of your fingers glided over the sheets, seeking the softness of it as you tried to organize your scattered thoughts. You were in Gotham — the shittiest place in the entire world, at least in DC’s fictional universe.

Fucking Gotham. Batman's Gotham. Joker's Gotham.

Out of nowhere, you found yourself missing the sagging, cheap mattress that made your back ache every night. You looked into the darkness around you and longed for your tiny, shared bedroom at your mom’s place.

Summoning strength from an unknown place, you decided to get out of bed and blindly search for the light switch in the room, as you had no idea where your phone was. Your left hand found the switch, and as you pressed it, the light momentarily blinded you until your eyes adjusted to the brightness.

The bedroom was huge, like, the size of your mom's whole apartment. But what truy left you speechless were the stunning detalis: your favorite color was painted on the walls, the bookshelves near the bed were crafted from fine wood, the exquisite furniture was strategically placed near the big windows, and the king-sized bed sat perfectly in the center of the room. The sheets were a soft pastel pink, and you were certain the curtains were made of linen.

A small section of the wall filled with Polaroids caught your attention more than anything else in the room, drawing you closer to the photos that decorated the space in a way that would have thrilled your sixteen-year-old self. It was you— your face, your hair, your smile, your body captured in those photos. Your face, repeated countless times, revelead a reality you coudn't believe was true.

Your eyes scanned through the photos, and you tried to count in your mind how many faces you could recognize with your limited knowledge of the universe that had swallowed you without asking for permission. One photo stood out— one of you next to Barbara Gordon and Stephanie Brown. The three of you were baking a massive cake for, apparently, Tim's birthday on the manor's kitchen while Alfred stood in the corner, tidying up the mess.

Perhaps, in this strange version of your life, you were a Batgirl, just like they once were at some point. But your hypothesis was immediately disproved when you saw a photo of yourself, probably around thirteen or fourteen years old, sloppily gripping a trapeze while a teenage Dick Grayson demonstrated the correct way to hold on from his position on the ground. At the bottom of the photo, you could see the cursive writing standing out: 'Girl Wonder working out for the first time'.

Ok, so you used to be Robin.

You were definitely no longer a kid or a teenager based on the last pictures— your days of wearing green shorts and pixie boots were probably long behind you. But if you weren't Robin anymore, then what were you? And if you were Robin at one point in this weird timeline, did that mean you were an orphan, adopted by Bruce Wayne?

Was he your father, or something close to it? Were you his ward? Wait, holy shit, how old are you here? You touched your face, feeling despair slowly creeping in and spreading through your body like poison. It wasn't long before your shaky feet carried you to the bathroom, the door partially concealed between the bookshelves.

You were finally facing the mirror, yet your eyes remained fixed on your hands.

Then courage took hold of you, and you finally looked at yourself in the mirror on impulse. Oh, wow. The girl who stared back at you looked more like a grown woman than anything else—her face slightly more mature than yours and strikingly beautiful, almost breathtaking. There were no pimples or acne marks, not a single blemish marred her flawless skin and perfect hair. Perfect teeth, cute dimples and pretty lips. It was almost uncanny how beautiful you appeared, still carrying most of your familiar traits.

The girl in the mirror smirked at you, her expression a mix of snobbishness and boredom. She seemed to despise you in some way.

"You look like a trust fund baby," you said, her lips moving and her brow furrowing as you talked.

That was you.

She was you.

You looked down at the countertop, avoiding her magnetic gaze. Your vision was immediately assaulted by the sheer number of expensive skincare products—each one seeming like it could cost you a kidney.

"So you're— we're disgustingly rich now, hm? La Mer, Dior, La Prairie..."

You both locked eyes again.

"Who are you?" you felt like you both were wondering the same thing.

This time, you weren’t gentle in your search for answers. You opened drawers, the closet, and designer bags, rifling through everything until you felt satisfied. The noise of things crashing to the floor was so loud that you could hear curious murmurs and footsteps on the other side of the door.

A huge smile spread across your face as you realized what you'd found. Thank God she was the nostalgic type— at the bottom of her big closet, behind some Hermes bags, you found a box full of old newspapers. Some headlines excitedly reported the debut of the first Girl Wonder many years ago. Hum, she— you looked surprisingly confident in those ridiculous green shorts and cape. But is the next newspaper in the huge pile that finally put an end to your curiosity and anguish.

You're new name is Blackwing. Fucking stupid. You frowned as you read more about your alter ego. Blackwing apparently operated in Gotham and, sometimes, out of New Jersey — there were some New York and Delaware newspapers in the pile, reporting your involvement in the drop in local crime. Your curious eyes studied the imposing figure on the first page.

Blackwing's red cowl covered her entire head, leaving only her eyes, nose, and mouth exposed— something that remind you of Batman's own suit. Speaking of suits, hers was red with black accents, leaving you to wonder if it was leotard beneath all the layers. The overall design gave her a very menacing look, you bet it wasn't a big hit with the kids.

Inside the old box, you also found a phone, saddly not yours, and quickly unlocked using facial ID. You wasted no time and searched Blackwing across several platforms.

In just six minutes goggling, you found a lot of things.

They called you the “woman without fear” because you were insanely brutal during your patrols, — at least that’s what the Gotham Times and Gotham Gazette liked to put in their headlines — madly sending petty thieves and thugs to the nearest ICU with your aggressive blows and merceless punches. Damn, you were like a demon seeking blood, an unmedicated demon it seemed, running from rooftop to rooftop, terrorizing the city’s criminals and sometimes the poor civilians.

You cringed, shrinking into your clothes while reading a Reddit post about the last time you damaged a whole-ass bulding fighting with Clayface on Gotham’s main street. How does insurance work in a world full of crazy people — some of them with superpowers — damaging property on a daily basis? Who’s paying for this shitshow?

Wait, how are you even taking punches like that, being thrown against walls and floors without dying on the spot? You thought with widew eyes while watching yourself being tossed around the street like a ragdoll by Bane in Twitter — a total dead weight in his massive hands.

You heard a soft knock at the door, followed by Alfred's voice.

"Miss, I trust your room is now renovated to your satisfaction," he said almost smiling, subtly alluding to all the noise you had been making. "But dinner is served".

"Oh—" you said surprised, putting the newspaper and the old phone back on the box. "Yeah, yeah, sure".

Shit.

Dinner. Probably with Bruce and Damian. Maybe Tim and Dick if you were totally unlucky tonight. You swallowed hard, realizing you were about to share a table with the world’s greastest detectives—without knowing almost anything about the life you technically shared with them. You're fucked.

"I'm fucked, I'm totally fucked" you muttered as you walked down the grand staircase, trying not to let the manor’s luxury overwhelm you and distract you from staying alert.

Near the dining room, you heard a voice calling you by your last name.

Thank God—at least that was the same as in your old life. You slowly turned your body, and Damian Wayne’s green eyes met yours, showing something closer to boredom. Great.

"Father said I shouldn't have been so rough with you during training earlier".

Training?

"And, naturally, I told him It was entirely fault of your chronic stupidity and lack of motor coordination," he added, his tone drippring with condescension.

You couldn’t let that slide. You looked down at him—you were at least five inches taller.

"You've got too much attitude for someone your size. What are you? Four?"

Damian looked like an angry cat, ready to tear your face off. He called you an 'unworthy opponent,' as if he were a knight in a Game of Thrones episode, then stormed off to sit at the table with an ugly scowl.

That weird ass kid needed an iPad.

"Don’t provoke her, Dami. You know how mean she gets without her eight hours of sleep."

Dick Grayson showed up, blessing you with his perfect white teeth and baby blue eyes. You watched him ruffle Damian's hair while the boy protested loudly.

"What are you even doing here, Grayson?' he said, slapping his hand away. You couldn’t help but notice his large biceps and broad shoulders, so you decided your nails were suddenly very interesting.

"Babs tracked down a Blüdhaven gang warehouse. They're hiding illegal weapons in Gotham."

You felt his gaze on you, followed by a hand resting on your left shoulder. He looked at you with warm eyes.

"Nice to see you back on your feet, little wing," he said, friendly patting your shoulder as you melted on the spot. Little wing?

'Hush, little wing. We're the stealthy ones, remember?'

Before your eyes, you could almost see and feel the fabricated memory surfacing—the memory of a body and a life that weren’t truly yours. It was the first time you teamed up, three weeks after you took on the Robin mantle. Dick listened to your constant chatter while you two tried to rescue some hostages. He didn't make you feel like a dumb kid in a costume — more like his cool sidekick.

Analyzing the timeline, you’re definitely the second Robin. Bruce probably took you in a few months after Dick moved out — both from Wayne Manor and from his role as Robin — leading to the older man's empty nest crisis.

But what could someone like you have done to impress someone like the Dark Knight?

You made a mental note to search more later and then gave Dick a smile.

"Glad to be back".

tag-list: @rosescarlettx, @btsloveer07-blog, @rainbowstar, @xingyunny, @mikyapixie, @sheep-from-rad, @fandomly-obsessed, @migilore, @natsukicookies, @candlewitch-cryptic, @socialmess-jery, @mona1704, @dieforcoffee26, @stupouid, @astrelz, @dind1n, @cxcilla, @mimi-sanisanidiot, @ceridwyn3, @sunako50, @lilithquillete, @rainbowstar, @ninihrtss, @dind1n, @blondwhxrewrites, @rosiita-fresita, @lovely-maryj, @vxsire

[anonymoustext]

I NEED MORE OF THISSSS

I was wondering if you could do a batfam x isekaid neglected fem reader. I only read one so far and I NEED more 😔👉👈

I love this ask !! Been wanting to write one :D

summary :reader comes from a post - apolyptic world where mankind was wiped out due to nuclear warfare and deadly disease . suddenly she is awaken in a world where humanity is thriving yet this weird family behaves so strangely toward her??

I coughed my lungs out - it's been exactly 498 days since my lungs have tasted oxygen . My restless body trudge on - I keep moving - keep moving despite the sore blisters on my feet that pulse and bleed with every step I take.

I don't know where I am - I don't even know if there's anywhere to go anymore - all there is is ash and yellowish fog that cover the land as far as the eye can see. I groan - throwing up bile - I grimaced as my body wasted water so unnecessary .

I was like an ordinary kid - I went to school and came home one day to a news reporter saying there was no school for two weeks - I was so blissful - no more tests for me ! Oh how much I wish to go back - those two weeks were the dawn of a nightmarish hell.

A sudden infection began spreading rapidly on a international scaling and due to poor government decisions - it continued developing , our population began depleting and there was no cure left .

Governments argued back and forth , the people rioting, and sooner than later, the world we knew fell apart . Suddenly there was no more electricity, no more running water and few surviors began to worry.

I remember vividly - ma and pa hugging me before departing with the elders to the nearest cell tower miles away in an attempt to reconnect with humanity. It was on that God awful day - I witnessed a giant flare descend into the blue skies of Alaska and touched down onto the distant cell tower with a loud explosion .

The explosion engulfed everything in its fuery, and what it hadn't burnt it had blown away and covered the skies in a perment yellow fog.I remember screaming , crying out their names helplessly I waited at that abandoned shelter for months - naively awaiting their arrival, but they never came.

Helpless , I was forced to move on without them . Now, as I trudge through ash and fog , I feel my legs give away beneath me, and I feel myself come crashing down onto the ashy floor . I choke and helplessly bang against the ground as a war cry escaped me .

No ! NO - I refuse to end it like this - I refuse to go like this - not when I haven't figured out what happened to my ma and pa - not now . I feel my lungs closing in on me as if someone has grown tired of this chapter and decided to cut the story shut.

I greedily inhaled like a drowning man , my lungs give way, and it's then my eyes flutter close for the last time.

Name awakes - her eyes met by blinding light . Immediately, she closes her eyes - her head throbs in retaliation, and she groans as she curls herself into a fetous position - a pathetic attempt to shield herself.

A long sullen moment passes before name finally grasps the situation she is in - she is alive - when she shouldn't have been . She jolts from the bed - eyes frantically as she intakes her surroundings. Her room is a luscious rich blue - it has dark oak furniture that definitely screams money .

This is not her room - not even remotely - she distinctly remembers her old room having soft pink walls filled with posters of all her nerdy things but here - this room is too dull - to void of anyone living in it.

A knock is heard on the door and name watches in horror as the knob turns , the door opens to reveal an elder male in a tux ? Name is taken aback - exactly where is she ?.

"Master Name, you missed breakfast, so I brought it for you " . Name tilts her head in confusion . Why would anyone miss food ? Food is something sarce and critical- it's precious and it's not meant to be wasted - whoever body this is surely was stupid.

Name nods her head . " Thank you ...." She trails off, realizing she doesn't know who he is whatsoever. The elderly man raises an eyebrow at her , " Alfred madam," he finishes. Name nods - taking that name to memory . " Thank you Mister Alfred," she thanks as she graciously accepts the food. Alfred excuses himself - leaving her to her own devices .

Name hops off her poster bed and waddled her way to the nearest window and sure enough the outside world looks that of her own before the incident - before life ficked everyone over and took ma and pa away from her.

Silent tears roll down her face , hands scrunched against the window sill tightly- she swore she would reunite with them no matter what. After staring into the neighboring houses for a long minute , name returns to her bed and shovels the scrambled eggs in her mouth.

Name no longer questions if her food is poison, slat on or cursed - after all food is food - it is a blessed and sacred resource that she will happily indulge in. Moments pass before her door is barge open again - this time so loud it collides with the door harshly, almost snapoingbit in half.

An angry child ? She assumes storms up to her , face red . " Name how dare you skip out on breakfast do you think k of yourself above us all ?" The child accuses her , pointing his sword at her.

Name immediately kicks him , square in the chest - sending the boy clashing into the expensive hairdresser . Name states at him and then her foot eye wide - it's only natural her body reacts that way - it's how any wounded animal would if threaten .

So why does this bratty child look so disturbed ? Suprised ? The child begins screaming his head off and another adult walks in and embraces him. Name feels herself choke up - how can anyone possibly get so close to another without risking catching the disease ?

Name holds her stance - clearly, these people are psychos and have no regard to anyone’s safety . " Name how dare you kick him he's just a child" the adult ? Starts berating you but you held your fork in front of you - tightening your grasps around it .

"Leave or I will impale you with this" name threatens darkly - leaving no room for hesitancy - only confirmation of their damnation if they dared to cross her . The adult states in her eye wide and opens his mouth, but you are quicker . You swiftly leaped from your bed and launched the fork at the adult full speed , ensuring you rolled the opposite way .

The adult barely dodges. " Name what the fuck-" They curse but you were already out the door. You had to get away from these psychos they're too loose - they're too idiotic.

Name is halfway out a door when a much older man grabs her by the shoulder and spins her around . Name stares at him - all she feels is the dread building inside her akin to the time the dread she felt when she witnessed her parents' demise. Whoever it is grabs her by the shoulders harshly and puts his face in front of hers - immediately making her feel small . The elderly man glares at her before demanding her , " Name exactly what do you think you're doing ?"

please like + share + comment !!!

sorry if this is short this was written at 1 am

[dia-oro]

Yandere Twilight: *suffering for the million time of insecurity* you will no leave me right? No other link right?

Reader: *four months pregnant of triples* .... *Deeply sigh* you know I only fall for you right.? Sadly I am no young enough to rethink my choices. I don't tolerate wars flirty nature I'm not old for that shite. Yandere twilight:

Reader: the only options where you or warriors, sky was minor still to me and with a fiance and time is married and I don't touch other girls men.

Yandere twilight: ... So you stay?

Reader:

Reader: sadly. Yes, I love you... And I need to pay many things at my world's if I try to go back after a year here.

Yandere twilight: *happy good boy* but you stay :)

Yandere twilight: *processing it*

Yandere twilight: wait wait what did you say of your world? Darling?! Darling-

[irisinluv]

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? PT 1

All I could do was stare at my reflection. This had to be a joke. I was going to wake up in my bed, right this instant.

“FUCK!”

Ok, so, pinching myself hurts. That’s fine. This is like. Some sort of lucid dream. What do they say to do if you’re lucid dreaming? Oh, that’s right, put your finger in your palm, it’ll phase through!

I resist the urge to scream as my finger meets solid flesh.

You see, I’m not in the right body. Or the right world from what I can tell. No, I’m supposed to be back home, waking up in a panic as I realize my alarm didn’t go off cuz my phone died after I stayed up way too late reading manga.

But of course, I’m not late to work, I’m in a lavish bedchamber right out of the latest webcomic I’d been reading! And by the looks of it…. I’m the crown princes crazy fiancé! As much as I love reading about the Isekai trope, I never wanted to be in one! And come on- as the Yandere Villain!? Couldn’t this at least be original? There’s hundred of stories just like “my next life as a villainess,” why couldn’t I be like… a stable hand or something? Ugh. Ok. Think!

I need to get home. Do the protagonists ever get back home in the stories I read? I pace around my room and rack my brain over every webcomic I’ve ever read, every manga I waited in line for, every anime I binged, even the unfinished manhwas! I can’t think of a single fucking one where they get home?

Well this isn’t going to stop me. I have a cat who’s going to absolutely flip if she’s not given fresh kibble in the morning. She has enough in her bowl for another 2 days but she needs it topped off ok! She’s a princess! I can’t be stuck here! Who’s going to throw her pompom toy for her if I’m not there???

What did all these have in common? What’s the barebones trope layout? Ok let’s see

1) person either died or falls asleep and wakes up in a new world…. Check

2) person is the villain!…. Check

3) to avoid the characters terrible death, person tries to change the story, ends up being new protagonist…

Ohhh… hey…. Do these Isekai characters ever just…. Play along? Even the “reincarnated as a baby” ones, they only play along till they’re old enough to try to run away or rework the political structure of the entire city. Maybe that’s it. Make it to the books natural end, and you’ll wake up where you belong. It’s like when you get part of a song stuck in your head. Play the whole song, and it’ll get out.

Ok, I’ve trained most of my adult life for this- I can totally ace this trope! I just have to stalk the crown prince, act totally in love with him, and be a bitch to the female lead. Then my finance will leave me, I’ll do some crazy dramatic act to try to kill the female lead, and then I’ll be exiled or executed, and wake up to feed my cat. How hard can it be?

Hard. It’s very hard.

Where the hell did he go!? My fiancé, the crown prince Eric, was JUST HERE. I swear! He turned that corner back there and then went down this hall… at least I think it was this hall? Ugh! This is impossible! For someone with such loud shoes and an armed escort, you’d think he’d be easier to follow! Now my feet just hurt. They don’t make these fancy shoes to run around the castle all day. They’re meant to daintily peek from beneath my many skirts as I host a tea party or some shit.

Ok. I’ve got this! I’ll just peek into each room until I find him, maybe I can get a better feel for the layout, or maybe find his office and see if he has a schedule or a day planner or something I can use to make this whole stalking thing easier.

I begin snooping, and it’s a bit of thrill to be honest! Back in my real life, I’m the kind of person to hide a wrapper deep in the trash can if I’m babysitting, sitting on the floor playing a game on my phone after the kid goes to bed rather than “making myself at home” the way the parents insisted as they showed me how to access Netflix. I’ve never been a snooper. Now…. Well. It’s totally on brand for this character! I’m not me, I’m a psycho lovesick fool! I giggle a bit at that as my fingers trail over a shelf of beautiful pottery in some sort of sitting room.

“What’s so amusing dearest?”

I practically screech as my heart leaps to my throat and I whirl around, and see the very person I’d been searching for has snuck up on ME…. That’s so unfair!

“W-what? O-oh! Nothing! I was just- uh, admiring the pottery?”

I stutter out as I try to recall how to act like a human being while simultaneously trying to stop feeling my own pulse in my ears. The idiot has the nerve to LAUGH! Full on snort and everything!

“What are you doing in this wing anyways? Weren’t you meant to be out riding today?”

Shit. I was so busy trying to figure out his schedule, I didn’t consider maybe the body I was shoved into had a schedule of her own. Ok. Play it cool- I’ve got this!

“Yes, well, I decided I wasn’t in the mood and wanted to stay in today instead.”

His brows furrow

“Oh, but you love riding? Are you feeling ill? I can fetch the royal physician for you if you-“

“No! That’s- that’s quite alright! I simply wanted a change of schedule, that is all. Um… what about you? What are your plans for the day?”

He looked a bit surprised at that, and a small smile danced on his lips.

“I was just going to the library to do some paperwork, boring stuff really, and then of course our dinner at its regular time.”

I nod like that means anything to me. Ok think, if I were crazy in love with this man, what would I say?

“Would you like some company? Reading in the library sounds really nice, maybe we could have some tea as well?”

Ok. I’m already fucking this up. He looks confused…. God damnit …. I knew I shouldn’t have skimmed over those early chapters- but the translation was shit ok!?

“Well… I’d actually love that. But are you sure? You haven’t exactly shown interest in reading, and you’ve never requested something like this before…. In fact I don’t think I can recall the last time we’ve interacted outside of dinner or a scheduled social event in… well. Ever.”

Wait…. What? Isn’t my character like goo-goo-ga-ga over him? Are you telling me she never asks to just… spend time with her lover? They only talk during dinner and parties or whatever?

“Of course, I think it’ll be relaxing! Just lead the way!”

My brain is working overtime as I smile politely at him as we reach the library and I pretend to browse for books. I’m missing something here. What is-

Oh. Shit. That’s right. I’m supposed to be really insecure and awkward about him. That’s why she stalks him- she spends all her free time obsessing over this man from the shadows, threatening the competition…. Yet chokes up when it comes to how to act natural. Her inferiority complex is what drives her entire character. And then to him, they’re just two nobles in an arranged marriage who speak on dull subjects like the weather and horse rides…. And who barely interact.

This must have been a real big shake up, she always stays out of sight, they never run into each other by chance. And she certainly never would ask to sit and read with him…. Maybe watch him do his work from a hidden keyhole somewhere, but that’s right…. She IS more of a traditional lady with her hobbies. She was raised to be the perfect noble wife, so naturally, her hobbies include things like dancing, needlepoint, and horse riding. The only studies she’s interested in are etiquette and things that noble ladies are supposed to know.

Well…. Shit. That’s so like me to already have fucked this up. But that’s ok. That’s ok- he’s going to meet the female lead and fall in love and so I just have to be the obstacle they need to overcome. Surely the details don’t matter too much…. It’s my first day in the job ok? Not everyone’s perfect!

I find a book that honestly actually sounds interesting, it’s historical, but it’s giving Hellen of Troy, the closest to a dark romance I think I’ll get from an academic personal library like this. I settle into what looks like the comfiest chair in the central area, and begin reading. The prince and I exist comfortably, the only sound being the scratch of his pen, and the occasional rustle of paper as he flips a document or I finish a page. We continue like this for several hours until he puts down his pen and clears his throat, getting my attention.

“I know it’s a long way from dinner…. But I was thinking I’d grab something light for a mid day meal and then take a walk about the gardens …. Would you care to join me?”

Honestly, some lunch and pretty royal gardens sounds like so much fun, so I agree. As we begin walking, I ponder how I can recover from all this.

You know what.. this can totally still go to plan. This is just me being the evil villain and sinking my claws into him! The female lead will appear, and I’ll reveal my true, nasty side to her! She’ll have to fight to save the prince from his marriage to me!

*insert evil laughter!*

“You’re smiling.”

“W-what?”

“A smile. It suits you. You’ve been doing that a lot today….. I like it.”

Ok and now I’m blushing. I go to reply when I suddenly find myself weightless for a moment, and then hit the ground with a hard thump.

“Ow! What the-!?”

My eyes snap up and glare at this pretty blonde girl who just rammed into me, and sent me flying

“Do you not know how to watch where you’re going!? Owww…. Ugh.”

Ok I’m sorry I’m usually a nice and understanding person but I’ve never been literally knocked over before! Who does that to a person?

Eric helps me to my feet and sends a reproachful glare toward the girl, asking me if I’m alright with most concerned look…. And the girl gasps and says,

“C-crown prince Eric! I apologize! I’d didn’t recognize you!”

She drops into a curtsy and lowers her eyes all demure and modest as if she hadn’t just bulldozed me. I send an incredulous look toward Eric…. She… didn’t see HIM? I’m the one she took out? He gives me an equally puzzled look and so I decide, you know what, fuck it. I’m this evil person in this world…. I need to act like it!

“And not recognizing his highness is an excuse for taking out the princess consort, soon to be crown princess? Are you blind or just daft?”

Oh my god I really just called someone daft! This feels like when you stay up late thinking all the witty comebacks you could’ve used against your high school bullies, except actually using them in the moment!

And Eric is being a sweetie and letting me handle this, waiting expectantly for blondie to answer me, just prompting her,

“Well?”

“Forgive me…. Princess consort…. You are right. My oversight in inexcusable. It appears neither of us were looking where we were going. I hope we can start fresh!”

I scoff- that’s it? Who does this bitch think she is? Yes, I was looking at Eric, but I was going a walking pace, who rounds a corner with so much force that you knock someone over?

Suddenly something clicks- oh shit! This is the female lead!!!! This scene happened in the story, just without the prince here. This is good, that means this is on track. Although I gotta say- I was much more on the female main characters side when reading it. Now, I just feel like she’s one of those mean girls in high school who’s not *technically* doing anything mean. Anyways- what was I supposed to say? That’s right.

“Yes…. Well. I’m sure we won’t be seeing much of each other anyways. If you’ll excuse me-“

Nailed ittttt…. Now her line?

“Well, actually…. My name is Lady Cressida, and I’ll be staying in the place for several months as my father is a foreign ambassador overseeing trade agreements with his highness the king. So I imagine we will be seeing *plenty* of each other. That goes for you too your highness! So please- forgive me, I look forward to getting to know each of you better!”

Oh that’s so cool, seeing her recite the lines from the story. But ok- I have a role to play as well. I scoff and grab Eric’s arm, pulling him behind me as I storm off, playing the part of entitled lover, stuck up and irritated at this ambassadors daughter who DARED to speak to my love.

Yea, this will work, Eric will think Cressida is a genuine sweetie, and see me as being the unreasonable bitch who’s refusing to accept her apology, or apologize for not looking where I was going either. And now I’m manhandling him- totally unlady like. God I’m killing this aren’t I? Minimum wage job and demanding cat, here I come!

What I don’t see, as I lead Eric by the arm, is the cold glare he shoots towards Cressida, before smiling down at our connected hands, an unreadable look in his eyes.

Part 2

SERIES IS DISCONTINUED- sorry y’all, just not inspired to write this anymore and don’t wanna force it.

[kikyoupdates]

Tears of a Villainess ⭑˚🗡️⭑ 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒

yandere!ocs x reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Reincarnation isn't as great as it sounds, especially when you've been reborn as none other than the villainess. Fated to die if you stand in the heroine's way, you immediately resolve to distance yourself from the plot. As long as you have nothing to do with any of the relevant characters, surely, you'll be able to avoid an untimely death. But in a horrible turn of events, the heroine ends up wanting to get close to you. Are you really doomed to meet the villainess' tragic end? Or is there an even more sinister fate that awaits you?

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Today is an important day. In fact, you might go as far as to call it the most important day of all. It’s where everything starts. Where the plot of the game officially begins to unfold. 

Today, the heroine will finally make her appearance. 

“But mommy, I don’t want to go.”

“You have to go, darling,” your mother insists, applying a light dusting of powder to her face. “We all have to go. It wouldn’t be proper for you to sit this out. The king was very clear about his instructions.”

You cross your arms and pout. This is one of the rare instances where you’ll act similar to the OG villainess, in true whiny bitch fashion. Your refusal doesn’t stem from a desire to be a pain in the ass, however. You actually have a reason for it. After all, the further you stay away from the heroine, the better your odds of survival are. 

Realistically, you know you’re being overdramatic. Nothing bad will happen tonight, especially since it’s a massive event where tons of people will be present. The dating sim opens with a scene of the heroine sobbing along with her parents, having faced repeated oppression and slander, resulting from the steady decline of their household. They are eventually chased from their own homeland and decide to start fresh somewhere else. Namely, the kingdom you currently find yourself in—Xenia. 

That’s how the game starts. But since you’re not playing from the heroine’s perspective this time, you’ve obviously skipped past that part. However, what follows is the real start to the game. The ball that the king hosts, in an attempt to welcome the heroine’s family into the kingdom and celebrate their new beginnings. All things considered, the king is actually pretty nice. They should have lost their noble status the moment they were driven from their own kingdom, but he’s been gracious enough to grant them similar titles and status.

All of the nobles are required to attend, in order to show their support and do the name of Xenia justice. Obvious exceptions can be made for people who are seriously ill, injured, perhaps too old and bedridden to leave their homes, etcetera. For a moment, you considered ‘falling sick’ and playing it up quite a bit, but then you remembered how much your parents panicked the last time you mentioned you might pass out, and you’d rather not give them any senseless heart attacks. 

So, fine. You’ll attend the stupid welcoming ball, or whatever. From what you recall, the heroine was already being harassed by the villainess this very night, but since you now have control over the villainess’ body, that obviously won’t be happening. You can just keep to yourself and let her enjoy her evening for a change. That alone should make a big difference towards overwriting any potential death flags. 

“Is there going to be an open buffet?” you ask hopefully. 

“I wouldn’t know, dearest. But I expect there will be some hors d’oeuvres or other little appetizers. Don’t worry. It will be fun. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” 

She smiles fondly, sets her powder puff down, then tucks a small strand of hair behind your ear. Based on that telltale gleam in her eyes, it’s obvious she’s looking forward to this. She’s been getting ready for what feels like hours. Honestly, you’re not sure how she even has the patience to fuss over herself for that long.

But even if the heroine won’t pose a problem, there are three other reasons you don’t want to go.

Reason one: Alistair. 

Reason two: Flynn. 

And reason three: Rowan. 

You really don’t want to see any of those guys, but since they’re all nobles, they’re definitely going to be there. You already knew as much from the game. Only Alistair actually interacts with the heroine on the day of the welcoming ball, but the others were present, just kind of lurking in the background. 

You’ve already cut ties with Alistair, which is good. He’s actually the least of your worries, and he likely won’t even bother to acknowledge you. Well, he might throw some stink-eye your way (since you called him ugly and all that), but you suspect that he’s going to stay as far away from you as humanly possible. 

Flynn, however, is probably going to stick to your side like glue, and if Rowan catches wind of you, there’s a good chance he’ll do the same.

“Being beautiful is so much more trouble than it’s worth,” you sigh heavily. 

You hate to admit it, but maybe the villainess’ arrogance is starting to rub off on you a little bit. 

Anyways, after watching your mother take more of her sweet-ass time getting ready, and after being repeatedly chewed out for your choice of dress (you were made to change into something more formal), finally, you embark on a rickety carriage ride towards the castle. 

“I wish Fiona could have come with us,” you say, gazing out the window all wistful and overdramatic. 

Your father fiddles with his gloves. “It seems you’ve become rather fond of your personal maid. I didn’t think you’d ever take such a liking to her. But I’m afraid we’re not allowed to bring anyone along. Aside from the castle servants, the guests are only those who’ve been directly invited.” 

“I know. I’m just saying it would have been nice. I’ll probably be bored out of my skull all night. Most of those people are so boring. Also, none of them really like me.” 

“Nonsense,” your father waves off. ���My dear, you’re far too cynical as of late. Everyone adores you. And why wouldn’t they?” 

Oh, I can think of a couple reasons. 

As always, your parents are utterly blind and see no flaws with their daughter whatsoever. That’s fine, though. You don’t intend to exploit their kindness, nor will you follow in the villainess’ ill-advised footsteps. You are the newly improved version of [Name]. They should call you [Name] 2.0. Or maybe even a more advanced model, like 15.5, or whatever the fuck the latest iPhone was. 

The point is, it’s fine. You’re not the villainess, which means that you’ll never make the same shitty choices, and thus, you won’t face the same consequences. 

What awaits you in this new life is nothing but sunshine, butterflies, and rainbows.

Definitely. 

Resolved to have a good time, one way or another, you do your best to relax for the rest of the carriage ride, and in the blink of an eye, you arrive at the castle. 

Whoa. 

Your lips part in awe. It’s not like you haven’t seen what it looks like before, but it’s far more impressive in person than a mere game could ever hope to convey. The whole thing is so majestic and grandiose that by comparison, your entire estate may as well be a cottage in the middle of the woods. 

“Big,” is the only seemingly appropriate response (that’s what she said), and your parents can’t help but chuckle. 

“It’s a been a while since we’ve all gathered at the castle, I suppose,” your father smiles. “This has been long overdue. I take it you’re excited to be here?” 

“Uh, sure,” you blink. “Let’s go with that.”

You follow the line of guests that are steadily trickling in. There are guards posted at the gates, knights, although you don’t spot Carmine among them. You can’t recall if he was here the evening of the welcoming ball, since the heroine never actually interacted with him. He might be posted somewhere nearby.

Everyone is required to show their invitations before entering, and your father pulls out an impressive-looking piece of paper, penned in fine ink, before lifting it up for the knights to examine. 

The frontmost knight bows his head. “Enjoy your evening, my lord, my ladies. The king welcomes all of you.” 

You step past him and proceed further still, and this time, a group of servants posted by the main entrance stop you to double-check your invitation. You’re not really sure what shenanigans you could have possibly come up with in the few meters since you were last checked, but whatever. Castle security is rigorous, you suppose. Although nowhere as bad as airport security.

Finally, you and your family are deemed fit to enter the castle, and so, you do. 

Suffice to say, it’s beautiful. Stunning paintings hang from the walls, each of them realistic enough to pass as a photograph. Just about every piece of furniture is decorated in gold, whether it be gold trim, liquid gold paint, or literal chunks of gold encrusted into nearly every facet and orifice. 

Since waking up in this world, you haven’t lacked for anything. You’ve stumbled into wealth greater than you could ever have foreseen for yourself, especially since not long ago, you were living in a shabby little apartment with more student loans than you could even count. 

But being here in person, it’s now abundantly clear just how staggering the difference between nobles and the royal family is. 

Put simply, they’re rich. They’re really rich. 

There’s no point in feeling intimidated, though. Based on what you know from the game, the royal family is actually really nice, especially since they’re going out of their way to accommodate a family who’s been chased from their home. You’re already here, so you may as well try to enjoy yourself. All things considered, tonight should be pretty chill.

But first, you have to get the opening act over with. 

“Greetings, my dear guests,” the king smiles, his rich, deep voice reverberating across the room. “As you know, we are gathered here today to formally welcome a new family into our kingdom, and also so that I may publicly acknowledge them as one of our own. They have endured great hardship as of late. The treatment they faced in their former kingdom is nothing short of horrendous. But here, we are different. Here, in Xenia, we look after each other. We give everyone a fair chance.” 

The king is standing far above the rest of the crowd, elevated on a sort of stage that houses his throne—along with the other members of the royal family. He stops to gesture below him, however, towards three people, and even though you can’t see very clearly from this distance, you can only assume that he’s pointing to the heroine and her parents.

“Please give our guests a warm welcome, and be sure to take the time to introduce yourselves to them! Now, then. With all the formalities out of the way… enjoy the evening!”

Applause fills the halls, and the king smiles once more before taking a seat on his throne, signaling that everyone is free to disperse and mingle as they see fit. Much to your dismay, there isn’t an open buffet, but there are servants carrying trays with appetizers and such, just as your mother speculated. 

“Darling, let’s go say hi to a few people,” your father encourages. “We have a few friends to catch up with. And eventually, we’d like to introduce ourselves to the new family as well.”

No thanks. You want to stay far, far away from the heroine. Even without bullying her, you get the feeling that she’s a shit magnet. Nothing good ever comes when heroines and villainesses interact.

“Maybe a bit later,” you hastily dismiss. “I’m gonna go look for a few people first. And, uh, Rowan will probably want to speak to me at some point, so I’m gonna check where he’s lurking.” 

“Very well, dear. But try to be back before too long, alright? Our entire family should be present when we formally make introductions.” 

“Sounds good,” you smile, lying as easily as you breathe. 

Fortunately, your parents are as chill as always, so they leave you to your own devices. They sounded pretty happy when you brought up Rowan, which sucks, because that part was a lie too, and you’ll be avoiding him like the plague.

Now, then. Looks like you’ve got quite a bit of time to kill. 

For obvious reasons, you don’t have any friends. Not apart from Fiona, and you would even go as far as to say that some of the other servants are starting to warm up to you as well. Technically, Flynn is the villainess’ friend, but you don’t consider him your friend, and he’s one of the people you’re trying to get rid of.

So, here you stand. Friendless. Lonely. Pitiful. 

Just kidding. You don’t really care. 

It’s going to take a while for all these people to change their opinions of you. You’ve already made your peace with that. Besides, you’ve got two loving parents, people like Fiona, and a chill, carefree life awaiting you back home. It could certainly be worse. 

Slowly but surely, you’ll restore the villainess’ reputation. But since that likely won’t happen tonight—people are already avoiding you and whispering under their breaths—you decide to do what you did last time. Go people-watching. 

You grab one of the pastries a servant is carrying on a tray and start eating it as you back away towards one of the corners of the room, where you have a clear vantage point. Sure enough, people are acting shallow and frivolous, as per usual. These people are genuinely starved for entertainment, it seems. They probably wouldn’t resort to all this mindless gossiping if there was Mario Kart or something to play. 

You’re bored now, and you’re probably going to be bored later, because there’s practically nothing to do here. That’s the biggest complaint you have about these public functions. They’re absolutely mind-numbing. 

But perhaps you should be careful what you wish for, because moments later, a big dose of excitement comes hurtling your way. 

And not the good kind.

“...[Name].” 

Mid-bite, you hear someone calling out to you, and when you turn, your cheeks are awkwardly stuffed, which you have no doubt is hardly the most flattering look. 

But you suppose it doesn’t really matter what you look like right now, since the person that called your name already hates your fucking guts. 

Alistair stands before you, lips twisted into a grimace. You can’t entirely blame him for it. Rejection is usually a bitter pill to swallow, and even though he never actually had feelings for you, no one likes being broken up with. 

So, you’re not really sure what to say. You’re not sure what the appropriate response in this situation is. Plus, your cheeks are still stuffed, and since it’s taking you too long to chew, you try to push the food all to one side and muster up a few quick words. 

Eventually, you settle on: 

“Whash goob?” 

Needless to say, Alistair’s disgust only intensifies. 

Fair enough. 

You swallow as quickly as possible, feeling an awfully painful lump in your throat as the food goes down. Some water would be great right about now. Actually, what would be even better is if this conversation wasn’t happening at all, but you can’t always get what you want. 

“Hi, Alistair,” you greet, sounding like an actual person this time. “Um. How’s your evening going so far?” 

Alistair isn’t happy. He’s not even bothering to try and hide just how unhappy he is, which says a lot, since he’s supposed to be a guy who cares a lot for appearances. He’s always been depicted as a perfectionist in everything he does. The perfect gentleman. The kind of man most women can only ever dream of marrying.

Yet, here you are. Possibly the only person in the world to ever have rejected him. 

Man. You’re so fun, quirky, and different! You’re not like other girls! Except for real. You actually aren’t. Most girls don’t just randomly wake up in someone else’s body. Unless this is some kind of weird fanfiction and you’re unfortunate enough to be the main character. 

But that’s got to be a stretch. 

“You look like you’re having a good time,” Alistair remarks, audible bitterness in his tone. “Most people wouldn’t have the gall to act so carefree in the royal castle, of all places.” 

Dude couldn’t be any more obvious about how much he hates you. Fuck. You understand that he’s still recovering from the embarrassment of his engagement suddenly falling through, but surely this won’t warrant an early death. He won’t actually go as far as to have you executed because you broke up with him… right? 

If so, that would be remarkably petty. Like, reaching astronomical levels of pettiness. 

“I didn’t really want to come out tonight in the first place,” you admit. “But since I’m already here, I’m just trying to relax, I guess.” 

“How lovely. It’s nice that you can do whatever you want without any concern for the rest of us. Your narcissism is impressive, truly. It ought to be studied by scholars.” 

He’s really busting your balls right now, holy shit. Just let a girl live, man! This is a free country! Kind of!

You awkwardly scratch your neck. “Um, thanks. I’m glad you find me impressive. Guess that means I’m doing something right.” 

“Are you trying to get on my nerves?” 

“Not really. Believe it or not.” 

Alistair scowls. It’s so weird to see him with such an unpleasant expression, because you’re used to playing as the heroine and being graced by the sweet, patient side of him. That’s usually the side he shows most people. Probably because most people don’t piss him off. 

“Forget it,” Alistair says, scoffing. “I’m convinced you’ve made it your mission to torment me. So, ending the engagement with no prior notice wasn’t humiliating enough? You had to start dating my cousin on top of it?” 

“That wasn’t even my fault,” you protest. “He showed up on my estate without warning. I even tried telling him that I wasn’t looking to date right away, but my dad was clearly itching for it to happen, so I kind of just went along with it. We haven’t even seen each other since then. It’s not serious or anything.” 

“You claim I don’t meet your standards, but supposedly Rowan does?” 

“Like I said, it’s really not that deep. I was pretty much pressured into—” 

“Spare me the excuses,” he snaps. “I know all too well what you are. You’re a sick, twisted woman who derives pleasure from tormenting others. I’ve heard the rumors, and so has everyone else. Time and time again, you debase yourself and bring shame to your family. I’m surprised your parents can even bear to look at you, with all the humiliation they must have endured on your account.” 

Bitch, I’ll literally fight you. 

You narrow your eyes at him. Even though you rejected him, does he really have to get this bent out of shape? It’s not like he ever cared for you anyway. Why isn’t he enjoying his newfound freedom and moving on with his life? He’ll meet the heroine soon. This very evening, as a matter of fact. And you weren’t even that mean about cutting things off. You made up a lame excuse about not being physically attracted to him, but you still acknowledged that he was a nice guy and it was purely to do with personal preference. 

Being a little bitter is understandable. But being this hostile is a different story altogether, and honestly? It’s not a good look on him.

Still, you can’t deny what he said. The villainess has done a lot of shitty things, and like or not, her reputation will follow you around. You may not actually be the one responsible for those acts, but everyone sure seems to think you are. 

Which is why, in a moment like this, it’s the perfect time to prove them wrong. 

“I’m sorry, Alistair. I really am.” 

You proceed to bow your head, and when you meet his gaze once more, it’s clear that he’s dumbfounded. He must not have been expecting an actual apology to come out your mouth, or even the slightest hint of repentance. 

“I apologize if the way I ended the engagement was too abrupt,” you say, pausing so you can choose your words carefully. “The truth is… I really want to be with someone I love. Our marriage was always destined to be purely political. I could tell you didn’t care much for me, and that’s fine, because feelings can’t be forced. But I realized along the way that I want to be with someone who cherishes me, and who I cherish in return. I’m not saying that person will necessarily be Rowan. I’m only giving him a chance because my parents so desperately want me to. But in the end, I’m not going to settle until I find my perfect match. Until I find the person I’m meant to be with. So, once again, I apologize. You’re a great guy, and I know plenty of people would be overjoyed to spend their lives with you. It isn’t anything personal. I just need to be true to my heart.”

There. Was that sufficiently cliché, or does he need you to keep going?

Alistair blinks. “Oh. Uh, I see. You say that this was a decision you actually put a lot of thought into, and it wasn’t just an attempt to humiliate me?” 

“I definitely wasn’t trying to humiliate you, and I apologize again if it came across that way. I just didn’t feel like it would work out between us, because we didn’t seem to have much of a connection. Love is the most important thing to me. Rather than wealth, title, status, or any of that, I just want to be with someone that I can enjoy every single day with.” 

You can’t really tell whether or not he’s entirely convinced. Realistically, he probably still has his doubts, but it’s better than him carrying a grudge, in any case. You want this to be an amicable breakup. Even if it wasn’t much of a relationship in the first place. 

Alistair presses his lips together. “But… you’re still going to let Rowan court you.” 

“Well, I don’t really know him that well, so I think it’s only fair I give him a chance before deciding if he’s the right person for me.” 

“You’d be better off not getting your hopes up,” he says, and you watch as his expression darkens several shades. “He’s a deceptive little weasel. If I’m being honest, I think he only pursued you to spite me. Because he heard you broke off our engagement and wanted to stir up trouble.”

Oh, how fun.

Honestly, that’s kind of the impression you got when Rowan first introduced himself to you. It definitely seemed like he had some weird cousin-related issues that factored into the whole thing. Still, you have yet to even go on a single date with him. It’s possible he’s not a bad guy. Him and Alistair just seem to hate each other, for whatever reason. It was never actually touched on in the game. 

“I’ll make sure to heed your warning,” you say, smiling appreciatively. “For the time being, I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt, but either way, I won’t be marrying anyone unless I’m confident in my decision.” 

“...I see.” 

Alistair looks less confrontational than he did a few minutes ago, so you suppose that went just about as well as it could have. You’re not sure if this is the perfectly ‘amicable’ breakup you were hoping for, but it’s a start. He’ll forget about you soon enough, anyway. He’ll be head-over-heels for the heroine.

“Anyways, I hope you enjoy the rest of your night!” you beam. “I’m not really sure who to talk to, so I’m just gonna wander around for a bit. See ya!” 

You quickly curtsy before you leave, and even though you have no particular destination in mind, the sooner this tiresome conversation ends, the better. You’re so eager to get out of there that it’s actually a miracle you don’t trip and fall flat onto your face.

Alistair watches you scurry off. The second he spotted you from afar, he was immediately incensed, and he came into this interaction ready to blow his fuse. You’re just about the only thing that’s been playing on his mind these days, much to his frustration. It feels like he’s been carrying a ridiculous amount of weight on his shoulders, and he’s been desperate to make it disappear.

Admittedly, he feels a bit better now. Perhaps you’re not quite as awful as he first thought. Rather brainless and shortsighted, to be sure, but your words and actions didn’t seem to carry any malice, and you were actually rather quick to offer him a genuine apology. It’s possible the rumors about you may have been somewhat exaggerated.

Plus, it doesn’t sound like you’re actually that interested in Rowan, which has him tickled pink. It means it’s only a matter of him before he gets rejected too, and then he’ll be forced to get off his high horse. 

“She wants to fall in love, huh,” Alistair mumbles absentmindedly. 

It’s true that he wasn’t all that invested in his relationship with you. He wanted to go along with his family’s demands and be the perfect son, just like he’s always been, so he agreed to it for the sake of their approval. But even though he hardly had the chance to get to know you, perhaps he could have tried a bit harder. It’s no surprise that you didn’t fall for him, when you probably saw through the superficial mask he always wears. Most people never see past the mask. In that sense, it’s actually rather astounding that you didn’t fall for it, the way everyone else does.

Alistair knows he’s imperfect. He’ll always be imperfect, and it frustrates him more than he can put into words. 

But then, there’s you. 

Rather than basking in insecurity, you openly embrace your imperfections. You don’t seem to give a single shit what anyone says about you. Even tonight, he heard countless people gossiping about you under their breaths, but you merely kept to yourself all the while, looking completely unfazed.

It’s true that you’re unconventional. You’re rather classless, and oftentimes, you come across as rude—whether you mean to or not. Your lack of etiquette might even be considered appalling to some (or rather, most), but in a way it seems… freeing. Alistair can only dream of acting like that, without fear of any consequences. 

Perhaps he was too quick to judge. Your cheerfulness and carefree nature can actually be considered strengths. And you didn’t break off the engagement to try and humiliate him, but rather, because he fell short. He didn’t give you what you needed. 

He didn’t make you feel loved. 

Alistair blinks slowly. He briefly imagines himself spending the rest of his life with one of the proper, well-behaved, but otherwise unremarkable women in this room. It’s what’s been expected of him ever since he was born. To be the perfect man, find a perfect wife, and go on to create an even more perfect family. He’s willing to bet that if he snapped his fingers right now and declared his intention to get engaged, just about every single woman here—perhaps even some of the married ones—would rush straight over, tripping over their feet to try and get to him first. 

If he marries one of those women, will he finally have the perfect life? Or will it just be more of the same tedious monotone? The same repetitive existence that ultimately brings him no closer to feeling satisfied?

Who knows. There’s no telling what will happen, really. But maybe… he’d like to try something different for a change. He’s tired of beating the same dead horse. He’s tired of being unhappy, no matter what he does. 

He’s never had to work to get people to like him. They always come flocking to him, so easily deluded by his fake smiles, his nauseatingly-sweet words of affirmation, and all the other bullshit he’s contrived over the years.

He realizes now why he was so upset when you rejected him. It’s because you saw him for who he truly is. You weren’t won over by that flimsy superficial layer, like everyone else. You saw what was hiding under the surface, and decided that you didn’t like it—and that hit him hard.

Alistair stares at you for a while longer, until your figure finally disappears amidst the crowd. It’s strange. Initially, he decided he wanted to get together back with you, purely to prove to Rowan that he could never compare. But now, it’s more than just that.

Maybe, as imperfect as you are, you’re exactly what he needs.

And so, he’ll have you.  

While a certain silver-haired man was having a rather horrifying revelation, you were busy scouring the room, doing your best to avoid the two other men that can’t seem to give you a break. 

So far, so good. Haven’t seen any sign of Flynn or Rowan. 

You’re relieved that you’ve made it this far, because after dealing with Alistair’s overdramatic bitch-ass, you honestly don’t think you have enough energy left over. Being popular really is more of a curse than a blessing. 

It seems like the coast is clear, so for just a few moments, you let your guard down. 

But that’s a mistake. 

“Oh! Sorry,” you hastily apologize. You were too concerned with scanning the area that you didn’t notice you just walked into someone. Naturally, they turn around to get a proper look at you, and all the while, you continue apologizing for your lack of awareness. 

However, a strange feeling starts creeping up your spine, and soon enough, your jaw can’t help but drop open. 

There’s a young woman staring at you, with tears blurring her gaze. She looks like she’s been crying for a while, based on how puffy her eyes are, and normally, this is the moment where you would ask her if she’s alright, or maybe even offer her a handkerchief. 

But you fail to do any of those things, on account of the fact that you know who she is.

She’s the heroine of the whole story. Lucy Wright. 

And regrettably, you can’t seem to find the right words. 

“Uh… ‘sup?” 

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[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

ErROr

[2.]

Love and Deepspace Various! / Reader

《File welcomes you! Enter! ... Good Luck.》

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Huming to the soft music playing in the cafe, you gently stir the brew. The smell of fresh bread and sweet syrups always lingering in the air.

You were glad for the calm evening, the morning rush had gone by rather quickly. Each order different than the last, yet you and youe colleuges made it through the first shift.

"Excuse me?" A polite voice pipes up. Giving the costumer your attention, your eyes widen at the familiar heroine hunter.

"Hello again! What can I get you Miss MC?"

You playfully smile, as the brunette beauty grins back at you.

"My usual, please."

"Alright, unicorn hair and a dish rag, comin' up!" You state innocently as her eyes widen. Her laughter lighting on the cafè as you turn away to the coffee cups.

Not seeing her lean her palm against her chin, eyeing the curve of your shoulder blades as stretch a arm up to the higher shelves.

'I wish I was that cup~!' She screamed iternally. This little haven of her's being the few solaces in her stressful life. Bringing out her phone, texting her friend, using every bit of sensabilty to not take photos of you.

-

You swoon openly, heart-eyed and face warm as you recount your feelings. Though, you knew telling the male of who your affections were for wouldn't make him bat an eye, (since he loved MC), it weirded you out at his strange behavior. Eyes slightly cold as his frown deepens into a pout.

You ignore it, knowing you had no chance with the love intrest. (At least you could swoon about the other male leads since they didn't know it was them you were talking about.)

"Hm? You okay?" You pause your rant, eyeing the blonde.

"...No."

"O-oh.." You head slightly lowered, toying with the holding trey. "A-ahm.. I'll just, get your order, Xavier." The friendly tone dying in your throat as you walk away. Frowning, know you shouldn't be pushing your luck. You'd at least hoped to be on friendly terms! You knew he wasn't as cold as he presented himself! But.. That was reserved for the MC only.

While wandering back to the kitchen, the blonde runs his fingers through his locks. Upset for being the cause of loosing your enthusiasm.

Jelousy spiking up quietly in his heart when recalling MC proudly showing off your number in her phone. Or hearing your sweet words of praise directed to someone else.

He'd have to find away to get it.

-

Sitting on the bar-stool, you eye the giant glass shard stuck in your leg. Trying to fake the pain, you were honestly nonchalant at the at the injury.

It couldn't really do damage.

Sweating slightly, you smiled nervously at the doctor.

Zayne carefully lifts your leg close to him, tenderly gripping your skin as he eyes injury.

"Okay... One, two... THREE." He stated, pulling out the glass stuck in your thigh. You blink, nothing, no scream, no blood... Nothing.

"...." The doctor blinks at you in disbelief. Shakily placing the shard down on the bar-counter.

"...Y.. Your body still must be in shock." The male rationalized, fingers digging into the flesh of your leg.

"O-oh... Y-yeah..." You hear the jingle of the cafè's door opening. Alerting the two of you as Zayne's body cages around you.

-

The painter eagerly pushes you down on one of the dressing room chairs. Smirking as MC walks into one the dressing rooms.

"You know... I think this color would look wonderfully on you." He spoke casually, sliding up closer to you. Holding up a shimmering blue dress with bits of jewels threaded into the seam.

You thought it looked really familiar to certain outfit of his-

"Huh.. I don't think it's my size though." You shrug, "the last outfit you handed me was a bit tight. I couldn't even pull the ziper up for the back."

You recall a few moments earlier, when MC eagerly wanted to take a selfie with you in that piece. Rafeyal immediately forwning and trying to push between you. To the point his hands pushing at your back away from the female Hunter.

Not seeing the grin he shot her when he carresed your naked lower spine.

"Though, I really wish you'd acompany me and Miss Bodygaurd to the exhibit."

"Oh? That's really nice of you to offer, but I-... Well.." You let a silly smile overtake your face. Dreamily sighing as you glace away, your heart couldn't take his pout.

"I.. uhm.. Got a date?"

-

Seeing that familiar smirk, you got another case of butterflies. Swallowing down your swooning, you notice a customer calling you over.

Passing by the male, you use all of your will power to ignore him. Eyes shinning with utter affection, you direct those feelings away. Greeting the costumer that called you eagerly.

Feelings still rampanging over your heart, you do your best to pay attention to the order.

Heading back to the counter, your co-worker writes down Sylus order as you start perparing the coffee.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry to add on to my order. But may I have two smaller drinks with the order."

"Of course!" You pipe up, not daring to meet his gaze as you shake the syrup canister.

"Thank you, (Y/N)..."

He sounded out the name cheekily, with you heart fluttering about. You don't see that your name-tag was no longer on your shirt.

Instead, hidden within his coats pockets for safe-keeping.

-

[Hiya! I wrote this as a idea I had awhile ago! It was originally in the concept as a full fledege idea. But I scrapped it, sorry! Enjoy! Thanks for reading, if you wanna know more. Send in a ask!]

[thethingsiwouldvedone]

I love isekai stories with Reader inserts but 👀👀👀

Readers who the main characters only find interesting because they've completely flipped as a person and just give top energy 24-7 so hard they've lk began to become somewhat of an icon in the kingdom.

Villainous character (isekai'd Reader) who instead of plotting, opts to get drunk with their advisor and knights in the slums. Instead of attending the ball that the main character ends up stealing the spot light Reader is on the other side of the city telling people that they'll give a gold piece for each rotation someone can complete while upside down on their head. (They've got the civilians break dancing in the street while the main characters are lk awkward and bored having no villain to push them all together.) They don't have time to make others' lives messy while trying to balance the shit they end up getting themselves into. Cue scene of black out drunk Reader falling asleep in some random cart (it ended up being up a box), and shipped to a foreign country. Cue traveling crew to panic about the fact they've kidnapped an important figure. Cue Reader slowly putting the lid back on the box much too hungover to deal with anything at the moment.

Shy Meak Prince/ess character(honestly a non royal character would go so hard) (isekai'd Reader) who suddenly begins to go missing every now and again and one day disappears altogether. The kingdom thinks they've been captured or worse but in reality they have a hard time falling asleep and opt to fall asleep next to a creek not knowing that venturing into the forest meant attracting the attention of beasts and monsters that lurked. Is Reader scared, fuck no? This is they're fucking moment, bitch grew up on how to train your dragon, this is their fucking moment. Enter Reader returning after a week. Mostly fine, a few nips, and bruises. Hair a mess and dirt caked but what really shocked people were the not one but two mystical beasts following closely behind them. (Or they just reappear. Nobody knows anything about the beasts as Reader tries to hide their newly made friends from the other characters).

Tailor/Seamstress/or? (Isekai'd Reader) who's blunt as hell and with horrible brain rot from their own world and just opts to not speak in the presence of others. Others think of them as just a wise and mysterious character with an excellent set of skills for design and fashion. Enter the mind reading character who's just absolutely shook about the absolute unfiltered filth that is coming from the reader as they get fitted for an upcoming ball.

[yandereunsolved]

⋆ Yandere Lucerys Velaryon w/ isekai'd reader ⋆

Lucerys thought of his life like a series of misfortunes that often led him to near-death experiences. Whether it be his tendency to misspeak or to get in fights, he never had that voice in the back of his head warning him otherwise. It was deadly silent.

As he matured, that conscious of his sprung forward. It had a name, your name. The voice in his mind was a character unlike his own. Sentient. That's the word he's grasping for.

It felt like having an imaginary friend once again—but stuck with him at all times.

He didn't dare voice this. He knows he would only end up damaging his mother's reputation further. So he has you to comfort him.

Sweet. irresistible. you.

Lucerys becomes way too attached to the voice that is always with him. He trusts you with his life. So when you warn him to delay his travels on his dragon a day and not tell anyone, he obediently listens.

He lived because of you.

There was no funeral that needed to be held. No tears were shed. There was only him eternally grateful to your dutiful protection.

When you appear before him one night, this night, full materialized. Who is he to object? A miracle blessed upon him in his dreary life. You won't slip from his fingers, just as you haven't allowed him to slip through yours.

[snowande]

Side quest 1 with isekai Reader that is a healer with a unique way

(Elf Male x Female)

From this story Side quest 2

You were quested by your leader of the village to go help healing the soldiers with the elves.

So you go there by using your horse. When you arrive to the field, it was a mess.

So many soldiers that is wounded.

But there are elves that is healing them, but it's not good enough.

That's why you are here.

When you started healing your first injured soldier, an elf stop you.

"Hey! What on earth are you doing?!" The elf man said to you.

You yelp when he yell at you, you tried to tell him that you were the healer that is from the villages of the Enchanholm. "Huh? So you were the healer that the man tells me about? Seriously a human healer, he sent here." The elf sigh.

You were kinda offended what he said, does he think that you were unqualified for this?.

"Yes, i am the healer that he sent, sir." You said to him with a little hint of annoyance.

He sigh in disappointment.

"Great... hey human, not to be mean to you, but to me humans are not a great healer." The elf smirk, making your eye twitch by his rudeness.

Suddenly a soldier scream to the camp, alerting you two, the soldier told the entire soldier and the healers that the monsters are coming back.

And the soldier ask you two to hide and the wounded soldiers.

You and the elf man hide behind some barrels, the non-harm soldier hide the injured ones in a makeshift shelter, the monster's roar echoes through the camp, the elf man looks at you, his expression softer, he whispers "Stay close"

The monster's approach, you can hear its heavy footsteps getting closer, the elf man pulls you into a hiding spot.

His body shielding yours, you can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, the monster passes by their hiding spot, its hot breath making the barrels rattle.

The monster moves on, the elf man lets out a sigh of relief, he turns to you, his face inches from yours.

you can see the concern in his eyes, he gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch sending shivers down your spine "Are you alright?"

"Yeah I'm good... Let's see if the others are okay" You said. You peek out of the hiding spot, the coast seems clear, the elf man follows your lead, you both check on the other soldiers.

The non-harm soldier signals that the injured are safe, but some soldiers and the other elfs are missing.

The elf man's expression darkens, he mutters a curse under his breath, he turns to you, his eyes filled with worry and a hint of something else "The other elves... and some of the human soldiers are missing. I fear the worst."

He makes a decision, his face set with determination, he turns to you, "We need to find out what happened to them. You stay close, understand? Your healing abilities might be needed I guess..." He doesn't wait for your response, he starts to track the missing soldiers and elves.

You follow him, staying close as he leads you through the camp, searching for any signs of the missing soldiers and the elves, as you move through the camp, you notice that some of the tents are torn apart, and there's a trail of blood leading deeper into the camp.

As you approach, you see the two injured elves, they're weakly trying to heal themselves, but their magic is depleted. One of them sees you and the elf man following, he calls out weakly, "Help..."

You quickly assess the situation, the two elves have deep lacerations that are bleeding heavily, one of them has a broken arm, and a they seems to have some internal injuries. The elf man looks at you, expecting you to start healing them, he asks "Can you handle this?"

"I can" you said while grab the one injured elf cheek softly and kiss them, making the injured elf yelp in suprise."

The elf man's eyes widen at your bold move, a shock expression in his features, "What are you doing?! They're injured!" - but his voice cracks slightly as he watches you comfort the elf, who leans into your touch "Their wounds..." It heals by your kiss.

Then you pull away with a string of saliva on each other tongues, and you walk to the the other elf who is blushing.

You approach the blushing elf, and without a word, you press your lips to his, kissing him deeply, the elf melts into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your neck, he returns the kiss eagerly, his broken arm suddenly healed. "A-Ahh!"

He opens his mouth and swallows the string of saliva connecting your lips, his eyes rolling back in bliss. You pull away from him, a soft smile on your lips, as the two elves' wounds fully healed.

The elf man can't hold it in any longer, "How do you do that? Your spit heals their wounds instantly!" He looks at his friends, who are all blushing and staring at you with adoring eyes.

"Uhh, well ... I heal peoples with any liquids that came out of my body... anyway! we should find the missing soldiers and the other elves" you said while coughing in embarrassment.

The elf man gulps, clearly torn between pursuing the mystery of your healing abilities and the urgent need to find the missing soldiers and elves. He nods reluctantly.

"You're right, we must prioritize locating our missing comrades.

As you two venture deeper into the forest, the elf man keeps shooting glances at you, clearly disturbed by what he witnessed.

After a minutes of searching, you find the missing soldiers and the elves surrounded by the monsters. They're heavily outnumbered and injured.

The elf man turns to you urgently "We need to save them, but we're outmatched. Your... 'unique' heal might be our only chance."

"alright here's a plan, I'm going to distract the monsters and you quickly heal them alright?" he said to you, you nodded to him.

the elf men then ran towards and he mocked the monsters making them only focusing on him. You slip past the distracted monsters, moving quickly and silently.

You find the first injured elf, lying on the ground, breathing heavily. Without hesitation, you kneel down and press your lips to hers, kissing her deeply and healing her wounds with your saliva. "Mmph!"

As you kiss her, some of the nearby monsters seem to notice the movement but are still focused on the distraction provide. The kissed elf melts into your kiss, her eyes fluttering closed in both pain and pleasure.

You pull away, and the elf's wounds are fully healed. She looks up at you with a mixture of surprise and adoration.

You quickly move on to the next injured elf, repeating the process, until all the elves are healed.

You find the first soldier, his chest pierced by a monster's claw, his mouth agape in pain.

You kneel before him, ignoring the gore, and press your lips to his open mouth, licking the wound clean and healing it with your saliva.

The soldier's eyes widen in shock at first, but soon he's moaning softly into the kiss, your tongue exploring his mouth, cleaning and healing. His hard on pressing against his armor.

As you quickly heal the remaining soldiers, the elves trying to heal the soldiers helping you and they look at you in awe.

You stand up, your face and clothes splattered with blood and saliva, finally all the soldiers are fully healed.

"Aghh!" the elf man who distract the monsters yelled in pain getting hit and the soldiers started to attack. The elf man stumbles back, a deep gash across his torso.

The soldiers rush to attack the monsters, fighting desperately. You quickly move to shield the other elves, pushing them back from the fight.

As the soldiers fight, their movements are more agile, their strikes more powerful. It's clear that your healing has not only healed their physical wounds but also removed any lingering fatigue or injury.

The remaining monsters retreat, realizing they're outmatched. The battle continues for a few more minutes until the last monster falls. The soldiers, breathing heavily but victorious.

The elf man who was hit falls to his knees, his face pale. He looks up at you, a mix of pain and gratitude in his eyes. "You... you saved us all. Thank you..." He said, as you pull him to your lap making him yelp, and kiss him.

The elf man gasps, his hand coming up to his neck, his angry expression softening as he realizes you've healed him completely. "Y-You heal me! ... But why did you have to kiss me to heal me?!"

"That's literally how I heal." you said with a stone face, making the elf man screech he is really a tsundere you thought.

The elf man's face turns bright red at your blunt response. He tries to stand up, but his legs are still shaky from the healing. "A-ah, shut up! It's embarrassing, okay?!"

"And it's not like I'm impressed by your healing powers or anything! Grr..." He huffs, crossing his arms and looking away from you. The other elves and soldiers watch this interaction, some smirking, others wide-eyed with shock.

As the days pass, the elf man, whose name is Finnian, becomes more and more Tsundere towards you.

He's always snapping at you, blushing when you're near, and trying to hide his injured stomach whenever you're around, it seems you didn't fully healed him.

While cleaning his injured stomach one evening, you notice the wound. Without asking, you grab him and pull him close "Your stomach isn't fully healed. Sit still." He squirms in your hold but doesn't quite fight back, his protests becoming weaker.

You make him sit on the table "It looks like the injury is deep" you sigh, you know it won't work with your saliva, you know it have to be your essence, so you make Finnian lean back to the table making him yelp.

He tenses up as he realizes what you might be about to do, his ears reddening. "Wait... You can't be serious..." "I'm not going to kiss you, don't worry" you said then pull your pant down.

Finnian eyes widen as you pull down your panties, revealing your bare lower half. He swallows hard, his face turning bright red.

"W-what are you doing?! That's... that's not...!" He stammers, trying to look away but can't help staring. Finnian face is suddenly smothered by your warm, soft flesh.

He inhales your scent, his mind racing. He tries to turn his head, but you keep him locked in place. "c'mon you need to drink my essence... hurry up this is embarrassing" you said to Finnian.

With no other choice, Finnian starts to lick at your folds, tasting your sweet nectar. He's embarrassed and reluctant at first.

but as he drinks more of your essences, he feels a strange warmth spread through his stomach, the wound starting to close.

But he's still embarrassed to be doing this. He looks up at you through his long lashes, seeing your embarrassed expression.

Finnian continues to drink your essence, his embarrassment slowly giving way to pleasure. He starts to use his tongue more skillfully, lapping at your folds and clit. His free hand comes up to grab your ass, pulling you closer as he eats you out.

His stomach is completely healed now, but Finnian doesn't stop drinking. He's hooked on your essence's, and now he's just enjoying the taste. He buries his face deeper, muffling his moans against you.

"T-thats enough..." you said while pulling away to him, then Finnian grab your arm. He's visibly erect through his pants, his face flushed with desire.

He looks at you with a mix of lust and embarrassment "You started this... can't just leave me like this..." His voice comes out husky and needy "At least..."

"At least touch it, can't you? It hurts, and not in a good way. He whines, bucking his hips a little, his erection obviously uncomfortable in his pants.

He looks at you with pleading eyes, his usual proud demeanor completely gone. "Please?" you feel kinda bad.. but his whining is making you smirked, he look so desperate it's cute♡.

Seeing your smirk, Finnian face turns an even deeper shade of red. He knows he's being pathetic, but he can't help it.

He's so hard and desperate for release that he'd do almost anything at this point. "St-stop looking at me like that... it's embarrassing."

You reach out and slowly unbutton his pants, his breath hitching with each button. As you pull down his zipper, his hard length springs free, pressing against his underwear, He bites his lip.

You slowly stroke him, teasing him, and you were smirking, it's a punishment how he always made you annoyed and make you angry, when you were staying at the camp, continue healing the other soldiers.

His breath comes out in a rough gasp at your touch. Despite everything, the sensation feels amazing. His hands grip the edge of the table, knuckles turning white. When you smirk, his face turns even redder. "Y-you're enjoying this, aren't you?"

You continue to stroke him, slow and teasing,his eyes glued to your hand as it moves up and down his length. He's so focused on the sensation.

"P-please... I-I beg you... please just..." He can barely form coherent words, all his previous cockiness gone "Just... make me come..." You finally pick up the pace, your hand moving faster and tighter around his throbbing cock.

He throws his head back, moaning loudly as pleasure crashes over him. His hips buck up to meet your hand, chasing the release he so desperately needs. "Y-yes! Just like that!"

His words are cut off as you wrap your lips around his cock, sucking him deep into your mouth. The sudden change has him seeing stars. He tries to speak, to protest, but all that comes out is a strangled yelp as he struggles against the intense pleasure.

His back arches off the table as you take him deeper than he's ever been taken before. His fingers curl into claws, digging into the wood beneath him. He can feel his release building rapidly, too rapidly, and he panics.

He's babbling now, his words breaking apart as he gets closer and closer to the edge. "I'm g-gonna... I'm..." He tries to warn you, to beg you to stop, but all that comes out is a garbled mess.

then you grabs his ass and take the his whole cock, chocking slightly. His body tenses completely, every muscle going rigid as he finally loses control.

His cock pulses deep in your throat as he comes, a deep, guttural moan tearing from his chest. "MMPHH!" His whole body shakes as the waves of pleasure course through him, leaving him completely vulnerable and exposed.

His fingers dig deeper into the table, marks left in the wood. "Oh god... oh god..." He's reduced to mumbling incoherent words, completely shattered.

You pull back, letting his sensitive cock slip out of your mouth. He gasps for air, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. He looks up at you with a mix of shock, awe, and a hint of fear in his eyes. "You... you fucking bitch..."

Then you open your mouth showing his cum inside and grab his shirt and kiss him, making him swallows him own cum in the kiss.

His own scent and taste fill his senses as you kiss him, transferring his own release from your mouth to his. He can't believe how completely and utterly you've dominated him.

A whimper escapes his lips as he pulls back, looking at you with wide, watery eyes. His hands shake as he reaches up to touch his swollen lips.

For the first time in his life, he feels truly humiliated but also totally wrecked, entirely used, and completely satisfied. "I... I hate you..."

"That would teach you a lesson for being an asshole to me" you said and giggles. He looks at you with a mix of anger and resentment.

He knows he's been taught a lesson, and he's not sure he's ready to face the consequences of his asshole behavior just yet. "Fuck you..."

On the very next day at the camp when you were healing a injured soldier and Fillian walked to you and taunt your healing skills, he is still a jerk.

Wow wow! This was supposed to be a short fic! But I guess I was feeling a lil bit romantical of the elf, anywho I want to thank you for supporting my last fic! The reader will meet much more interesting people's?. -Lumi♡

The picture is from pinterest Ezgi

Tags : @nymphea0 @rainwithoutpain @cinwmoon

[cybergoth1]

beyond the cowl | prologue | batfamily x isekaide!reader

masterlist | chapter 01.

synopsis: ❛❛you're just a normal twenty-one-year old girl trying to navigate life with a shitty job and a useless degree. life isn't easy, and between expensive therapy sessions and the constant feeling of failure, you suddenly wake up in a body that wasn't yours, with a past that wasn't yours. now, in another dimension, you're dealing with the fact that you're a crucial part of the caped crusade that shaped bruce wayne's life. you're the second robin, the former girl wonder, and the vigilant gotham needed so much.❞

warnings/tags: swearing. reader being emotionally immature bc we love toxic women. no beta we die like jason todd. reader really needs her lexapro. alfred being a sweetheart in the end (pls lets pretend bane never killed him).

Sometimes you felt like they had lied to you. Straight to your face. Your friends, your family and your professors. 

They all made you believe that something important was out there, just waiting for you. They patted your back while you poured out your insecurities like the self-doubting idiot you are, and with the most convincing tone, told you that the world was your oyster. That opportunities are everywhere.

They said you shouldn't be that worried about getting a job. You still have plenty of time after graduating. Right? 

Right.

Their nice words turned out to be useless the moment you stepped out of college. Your dreams and expectations were shattered during your first month sending out resumes to every single company and agency you could find. And then, before you knew it, eight months had passed without you landing a decent job. The endless rejection emails and mounting bills started to make you lose sleep as you spent countless nights tossing and turning in your single bed.

That’s why you ended up here, one year later, in a café downtown, learning the difference between a flat white and a cappuccino for a living.

You wiped down the counter for the sixth time in the past half hour, keeping an eye out for any trace of coffee left by the last customer when he spilled it all over your hands and apron. The feeling of the cloth under your fingers was the only thing grounding you as your thoughts began to spiral for the third time that day. You couldn’t even hear the annoying hiss of the espresso machine or your manager's high-pitched voice nagging at you about some shit you didn't care about.

You only lifted your head when a customer called you by your name. It was the same high school kid who always ordered a caramel macchiato. Mia or something. Your mind wandered as you pulled a shot of espresso for the new order.

You shouldn’t be here.

You shouldn't be pretending your lifetime dreams were nothing. You shouldn’t be pretending that you feel fulfilled cleaning counters and serving people who barely looked up at your face while you handed them their orders.

You heard Mia asking for extra vanilla syrup.

Shit, that was so unfair to you. You did everything right; every single thing they told you to do. You checked all the boxes.

You got a degree, unlike half of your family, who barely finished high school. You didn’t get knocked up at sixteen, unlike your mom and older sister, and you didn’t get addicted to fucking alcohol, unlike your dad. So why are you still living like this — paycheck to paycheck, unable to afford dental care, healthcare, or even the most basic stuff like a new pair of shoes.

Deep down, you know why.

Poverty is an eternal, miserable, and unbreakable cycle — you were just naïve enough to think you could overcome it with simple actions. You kept your eyes fixed on the tall iced latte in your hand while zoning out. Yeah, time for another therapy session.

“Here you go” you tried to smile while handing her the cup. Hiding your growing anxiety and negative thoughts behind your customer service voice was a skill you were slowly, but surely, building up. But you probably looked weird as fuck since she gave you an awkward smile while muttering a "thanks".

"I still don’t know how you got this job. You look like a psychopath," you heard Nate, your coworker, from behind you, holding an empty milk pitcher.

He would be a nice, solid dude if he didn't act like a middle school bully most of the time.

"Yeah?" you rolled your eyes, finally turning your body to look at him. Damn, he really needed to shave his sideburns; he looked ridiculous. "Want me to tell you what you look like?"

His red hair and weird face made him look like a distressed orangutan. A very ugly orangutan.

He just smirked at your sarcastic tone. Fucking cunt.

"Nah, I'm good".

As the rest of the shift slowly passed, you kept checking your phone over and over, waiting for that email from the agency you applied to two weeks ago. You got nothing, as usual. Nothing besides a text from your sister asking for forty dollars; she probably ran out of baby formula again.

With a loud sigh, you decided to scroll through Instagram while Nate flirted with some customers. You quickly noticed that your college friend Christine had just been promoted again. She had been working at her father's company since her sophomore year, and her longtime boyfriend, Tom, had proposed to her in front of the Eiffel Tower.

Uh, wow, that's nice—good for her.

"Congrats, babe! Oh my god, he's so lucky to have you in his life. And good luck at your new job," you send her a quick DM, like a good friend would.

And you are, objectively, a good friend. You're even congratulating her on her promotion as if she weren't a spoiled, airheaded bitch who never accomplished anything on her own. Christine had everything handed to her on a silver platter; her parents got her an amazing job at their company, then paid for her boob job, her nose job, her new car, and her apartment—the list goes on.

You watched the couple showing off the engagement ring under the Parisian sunset and felt like the most self-absorbed cunt on Earth. At this point, you're used to feeling like that, at least twice a day. You spent the rest of your shift watching her stories over and over until it was time to close.

“I’m heading out,” you said to Nate as you finally grabbed your stuff from the break room. The city felt colder than usual that time of year; you could feel your lips getting chapped every time you stepped outside, so you quickly wrapped your old yellow scarf around your neck while zipping up your jacket. The café was already empty; the other employees had left fifteen minutes earlier, leaving just the two of you to close up.

Nate barely looked at you when you said goodbye to him.

You didn't care.

During your walk to the bus stop, you looked around the dark street pretending you’re not totally shitting yourself under the dim streetlights—holding your purse tightly against your frame, like you're about to be mugged by the thin air.

In those moments of raw vulnerability and panic, the whole idea of vigilantism seemed pretty cool. People in latex or spandex you don't actually know, jumping off buildings and beating up bad guys, defending the working class and pretty girls in distress. That's pretty neat, uh?

And very unrealistic.

Once inside the bus and comfortably seated, you let your thoughts wander again. You didn't know what you were doing with your life anymore. You never did, in fact.

The beauty of the night, the cold air coming from the bus's open windows, and the lights of the buildings dancing against the dark sky managed to soothe some of your pain for a few minutes. Your legs ached after hours of standing behind the counter, you felt burns on your hands, and your feet were uncomfortably squeezed into shoes that were a size too small.

Gradually, you fell asleep leaning against the bus seat, thinking about a nice pair of shoes you saw in the mall three days ago.

The first thing you noticed while slowly waking up was how comfortable you felt. The fabric beneath your body was as soft as silk, and the scent of fresh lavender emanating from it indicated that it had been recently washed—fuck, what is this? Heaven? You whined, shoving your whole face against it and breathing in.

Yeah, that’s definitely lavender—

Wait.

Public transportation didn’t smell like lavender, last time you checked. Your whole body went rigid as a cold shiver ran down your spine.

You immediately opened your eyes.

Fuck, fuck. What the fuck is happening?

You weren't on a bus anymore, that's for sure. Jesus, where's your purse?

“Fuck!” you almost screamed in pure panic as a painful sensation spread between your ribs and stomach, burning so much it seemed to take your breath away as you tried to sit up.

You were on a bed. A king-size bed. Sitting on silk sheets.

“Oh my god, someone kidnapped me—”

You looked around the bedroom as tears immediately filled your wide eyes. Your heart raced, and your hands trembled as you tried to make sense of the unfamiliar place you had woken up in.

The growing panic and fear for your life were so overwhelming that you couldn’t even notice the beautiful, very personal decor around the room or the several photos on the walls and desk, showing your face next to people you had never seen in your entire life.

"Oh, miss, thank God you're awake" a gentle voice said — is that a british accent? — close to the bedroom's door.

That's it, you're going to be killed by a weird, rich old man, and he's going to sell your organs on the black market.

Oh God, you quietly sobbed, you've always slept on the bus on your way back home, and you've never had any problems before—

Through the tears that blurred your vision, you could finally make out the figure of a tall man slowly approaching your bed. He was holding a cup of tea and a plate with what looked like a sandwich.

A cucumber sandwich.

"It seems like you may have hit your head quite hard. And your ribs," he said, handing you the cup and placing the plate on the bedside table. The man sighed loudly. "Master Damian really needs to contain his enthusiasm during sparring sessions."

The cup shook in your left hand as you looked at him with tearful eyes. He politely pretended not to notice your desperate state or the tears in the corners of your eyes as he walked back to the door.

"Hey, Alfie, have you seen my white socks?" another voice called out, this time from the hall.

"They're still on your bedroom drawers, Master Dick."

"Oh, right, sorry."

Wait, that was Batman's butler or—

Your vision faded to black as you collapsed back onto the silk sheets.

tag-list: @rosescarlettx, @btsloveer07-blog, @rainbowstar, @xingyunny, @mikyapixie, @sheep-from-rad, @fandomly-obsessed, @migilore, @natsukicookies, @candlewitch-cryptic, @socialmess-jery, @mona1704, @dieforcoffee26, @stupouid, @astrelz, @dind1n, @cxcilla, @mimi-sanisanidiot, @ceridwyn3, @sunako50

[insertusernamethere]

Yandere fairytale prince

Helloooo <3 I am busy with university right now, so I am sorry for not posting as much as I used to. I am working on different stories but my progress is quite slow with the workload and the stress so I am posting a small headcannon type of story.

Also, I accept request if anyone is interested <3 So feel free to give me a request or anything really <3

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story !

Imagine being isekaied into a fairytale from your favorite childhood book—a story about a princess married to a merman. You remember your mother telling you that the princess shared your name.

The two kingdoms have been on bad terms for centuries. Humans portray merpeople as bloodthirsty monsters, while merpeople imagine humans as cruel and vicious creatures.

The princess's beloved father, the king, is very protective and caring towards his only daughter. But after receiving a letter from the mermaid queen, he knows that his daughter has a duty to fulfill to ensure the kingdom's prosperity.

The princess is a brat who hates merpeople and sees them as creatures that should not exist or be interacted with. Despite her young age, she resents the merman prince when her father tells her she is to marry him when she comes of age.

You remember the story ending with the princess running away from her arranged marriage with the help of her brother, who is also against merpeople.

You also remember the merman prince being a very bullied child. His shy personality, quiet nature, and chubby form left him no respite from the bullies. In your memories, he looked forward to his marriage with the human princess, loving the terms "husband" and "wife"—two words that bond two people's souls together.

Even as a child, you never liked the princess's attitude towards the prince, knowing that every time the prince attempted to get to know the princess, she would always ruin the moment or leave. His fish tail only allowed him to watch the princess from afar in anguish.

One day, you find your old book in a box filled with childhood memories and objects. Surprised that after so many years the book seems almost new, and feeling nostalgic, you decide to take it out and read it again.

Going to sleep that night, you think that the poor prince deserved someone better than the princess.

Imagine your panic and surprise when the next morning, you are not in your room but in a completely different bedroom, looking like a child and being woken up by a maid calling you "princess." You look exactly like yourself but are wearing royal clothes.

You must be in a dream, so why not play along and change the story as you always wanted? When the king announces your marriage to the merman prince, you are not upset.

Instead, you reprimand your brother for his discriminatory remarks, justifying your words by stating that this marriage would allow the kingdom a unique alliance that would be quite resourceful and provide protection for fishing and sea travel.

And when you first encounter the merman prince on the shore, you don’t ignore him or shoo him away like the princess did. You listen and talk with him, trying to learn about his culture and traditions while teaching him about yours as well.

For the prince, you are the rarest pearl in the world—the complete opposite of what his comrades describe humans to be. He is certain you are his soulmate and can’t wait to call you... what was the word again? Ah, yes! His wife.

[agsbf]

Death No More

Stardust Crusaders x Isekai! Leitora

Capítulo 16: Pesadelo na Cozinha (Mas com outro francês)

Capítulo Anterior - Masterlist

Você atracou com os demais no porto de Kowloon, o sol que nascia quando o avião pousou, se encontrava em seu ápice, a tarde se iniciando. O resgate dos passageiros ocorreu de manhã pela fundação, utilizando navios e helicópteros em uma tentativa de agilizar o processo, embora houvesse sido um esforço formidável da Speedwagon, o local de aterrissagem não continha uma terra firme próxima, sendo obrigatório o gasto de horas extras até desembarcarem em Hong Kong. Por questões de segurança, não foi permitido aos viajantes compartilharem o mesmo veículo do seu grupo, o episódio de Gray Fly servindo de exemplo.

—Muito obrigado. Aqui, vou te dar uma gorjeta. —Joseph pegou a carteira, separando algumas notas para o piloto do resgate, porém o trabalhador o impediu, respondendo junto a um meio sorriso:

—Não há necessidade, senhor Joestar. Só estou realizando meu trabalho.

Enquanto o grisalho conversava, Kakyoin apareceu segurando à sua mochila junto a dele, um cavalheirismo do seu melhor amigo após perceber o quão cansada estava devido a batalha de ontem.

Você se espreguiçou, um bocejo saindo dos lábios. A luta com Gray Fly arrancou a possibilidade de dormir bem noite passada, só conseguindo fechar os olhos após derrotar o inimigo, descansando por poucas horas antes da chegada do resgate. A próxima batalha seria no almoço, diferentemente da anterior, tinha ânimo ao saber que iria presenciar Abdul contra Polnareff, o penúltimo aliado do time. Tanto o seu colega de equipe quanto o francês se provaram usuários ágeis, as técnicas de esgrima precisas do Chariot e o controle das chamas do Abdul fazendo qualquer pessoa abrir a boca em choque, o fato de ver tudo isso ao vivo em algumas horas quase te fazendo pular em antecipação.

Enquanto o Torre de Cinzas foi um personagem jogado do avião sem remorso nenhum, não considerando o idoso como alguém digno de viver devido aos atos cruéis, Jean Pierre poderia atacar o grupo sem o esporo de carne que continuaria recebendo sua empatia. A maioria dos lacaios de Dio possuem motivações gananciosas, dispostos a sacrificar vidas em troca de dinheiro ou poder, todavia o antagonista seguinte não se enquadrava nessa lista, os motivos podendo ser considerados nobres de certa forma, pois existia um senso de justiça por trás: No O.V.A da terceira parte do anime, o passado do francês é abordado detalhadamente, mencionando o falecimento de sua mãe quando era jovem, transformando a irmã na única família restante, os fazendo inseparáveis, um atuando de âncora do outro nos dias cinzas. Há três anos do início deste arco, Sherry havia sido assassinada por um indivíduo possuindo duas mãos direitas, alimentando Polnareff com uma sede de vingança, Dio prometendo ajudá-lo caso o usuário do Silver Chariot derrotasse os Joestars. No quesito dignidade, Pierre merece destaque, a moral do platinado tão cravada na alma ao ponto de explicar os próprios poderes para a luta contra Abdul não ser injusta, até optando por um combate ao ar livre, permitindo o uso do Mago Vermelho em todo seu potencial.

Kakyoin percebeu como os olhos de sua melhor amiga estavam fixados rumo ao horizonte, porém imaginou que sua imersão em pensamentos fosse fadiga, puxando um assunto relacionado a isso:

—Não te culpo por estar distraída, a noite anterior definitivamente foi desconfortável. —Ele lhe deu um sorriso, o qual retribuiu antes de responder:

—Eu encaro situações de desconforto e cansaço de boa. Estou a três dias com o Jotaro sem reclamar, não estou?

—Muito divertido. —O Kujo se aproximou, não achando engraçado seu comentário. —Enfiou um palhaço na bunda para ter tanta graça?

—Não, meu carisma é de nascença.

—Sabe, tenho que te elogiar por ontem. —O aspirante a biólogo cruzou os braços, te encarando acompanhado de um olhar leve, por um instante realmente imaginou a chegada de um enaltecimento. —Piranhas são animais de água doce, é impressionante o quão bem se adaptou ao oceano noite passada.

—Digo o mesmo, Jojo. —Devolveu a expressão sarcástica. — Peixes-bolha ficam nas profundezas, é o primeiro que eu vejo na superfície, por acaso é um espécime raro?

—Tudo bem, parem os dois. —Joseph interrompeu, a conversa junto ao trabalhador tendo sido finalizada, o agente da Speedwagon voltando ao barco, desaparecendo aos poucos na linha do mar. Uma risada saiu da boca do senhor após escutar a troca de farpas, apesar do quão rápido apareceu, foi tirada, querendo ser a figura responsável ao grupo de jovens. —Tenho um amigo com um restaurante aqui perto, vamos almoçar alguma coisa. Uma mente pensante não funciona sem combustível.

—Só por curiosidade, Jotarozinho, faz jejum frequentemente?

[...]

Você se sentou no táxi junto ao Joestar e Abdul, o egípcio no meio, já à sua figura ficava na extremidade oposta a do mais velho, ambos pegando o lado que continha janela, o assento próximo do motorista ficando vago. Embora tivesse como apenas um membro tomar um carro diferente, por razões de segurança o grupo optou em ser separado em outro formato, a ideia de isolar alguém quando existem inimigos misteriosos não soava boa. Noriaki acompanhava Jotaro em um veículo à parte, seguindo a premissa de um Stand categorizado de longa distância (Hierofante Green) enquanto o pertencente ao ranzinza não tinha tal característica. O trio o qual você pertencia foi criado seguindo o mesmo raciocínio, todavia ainda que utilizassem transportes diferentes, o destino final havia sido o mesmo.

—Boa tarde. —O taxista os encarou pelo retrovisor, ele aparentava estar na casa dos 50, leves rugas presentes em seu rosto, entradas começando a aparecer no cabelo, acompanhado de fios brancos, a expressão alegre enquanto os cumprimentava. A voz do homem possuía um sotaque estadunidense forte, trazendo como resultado um arregalamento na sobrancelha do pai de Holly, a existência de um brilho nos olhos surgindo ao perceber a possível origem em comum:

—É americano? —O avô do protagonista perguntou, mais inclinado a iniciar uma conversa.

—Nasci em Nova Iorque e vivi lá até meus 10 anos, senhor. —O trabalhador deu partida no carro, o som alto do motor ligando sendo audível. Apesar do campo de visão do motorista manter foco na estrada, continuou a puxar assunto com o usuário do Hermit Purple. —Primeira vez em Hong Kong?

—Não, já fiz algumas paradas aqui quando fui visitar minha filha no Japão.

—Legal. Suponho que já tenha provado uma Coco-cola quente?

—Credo! —O idoso franziu a testa, o nariz enrugando enquanto os lábios foram puxados para trás, uma expressão de nojo se formando. —Sou ateu de refrigerante quente. Coco-Cola tem que ser gelada! —O grisalho cruzou os braços, desviando o rosto. O trabalhador não aparentava ter se ofendido com o comentário, pelo contrário, soltou uma gargalhada antes de responder:

—Eu tive essa exata reação! Finalmente alguém me entende!

A conversa fiada dos dois continuou durante toda a viagem, você preferindo prestar atenção na paisagem local ao invés do diálogo, encarando a janela. Kowloon é uma cidade urbana, porém indo contra o título, a ilha não tem a pacatez de um centro: placas coloridas escritas em cantonês adornavam as ruas, cada loja pintada em cores chamativas, na tentativa de se destacar na ilha; vendedores anunciavam seus produtos, citando a qualidade e preço baixo, existindo desde comidas de rua até vestimentas exibidas para compra. Os transportes também seguiam a temática alegre, ônibus de dois andares na cor branca e vermelha aparecendo, junto a modelos de automóveis em cores não tão habituais, como o amarelo ou o azul, os veículos de tonalidade neutra eram escassos; haviam arranha-céus no local, a maioria com muitas janelas, todo o conjunto trazendo um ar moderno a ilha. Pessoas caminhavam pelas calçadas, nenhuma delas cheias de pressa, apesar de estarem indo em direção ao trabalho ou casa, tendo um prazo a cumprir, cada cidadão parecia amigável em seu próprio modo, mesmo que estivessem presos em pensamentos.

—É um lugar legal, não é? —Cochichou a Abdul, o egípcio acenando a cabeça.

—É uma pena não estarmos aqui a turismo. —Ele comentou baixo, transformando na sua vez de concordar.

Ainda que fossem dar uma volta ao mundo, tirando o Cairo, não haveria nenhum local onde passarão tempo suficiente capaz de desfrutar da cultura, ficando no máximo alguns dias em diferentes países antes de pegar estrada novamente.

—Bem, somos jovens, o céu é o limite. Algum dia viremos aqui, ficaremos em um hotel de boa e desfrutaremos do melhor que a Ásia ou qualquer continente tenha a oferecer. —Suas palavras não foram atoa, talvez não tivesse essa oportunidade, mas faria tudo ao seu alcance para Muhammad e Kakyoin receberem a chance de usufruir daquilo que lhes foi arrancado no cânone.

—Chegamos! —O taxista anunciou, estacionando o carro.

Você abriu a porta ao seu lado, agradecendo o nova iorquino pela corrida utilizando um típico “Valeu, meu nobre!”, antes de sair, já o usuário do Mago Vermelho trouxe uma abordagem formal no agradecimento, optando pelo bom e simples “obrigado”, obtendo um sorriso do estadunidense.

Joseph separou um par de notas ao motorista, onde o trabalhador o entregou um panfleto possuindo informações de contato para futuras viagens em Hong Kong. O pai de Holly balançou a cabeça em reconhecimento, guardando o papel no bolso, mexendo os braços em despedida enquanto o veículo se afastava.

Kakyoin e Jotaro já se encontravam no local. O ranzinza apoiado na parede do restaurante, a sobrancelha arqueando levemente ao ver sua demora, os lábios franzidos.

—Esperaram muito? —O avô não pôde deixar de provocar o neto, recebendo uma resposta afirmativa.

—Eu e o Noriaki estávamos nos perguntando se foram atacados ou se sua presença causou outro acidente, velhote.

O ruivo se encontrava ao lado do estóico, a testa lisa acompanhada de uma mandíbula relaxada, não sentindo nenhum incômodo pelo tempo que precisou aguardar, diferente da versão masculina da Meany Ranheta.

—Não seja assim Jotaro, estamos aqui no máximo a 10 minutos. Está agindo dramaticamente.

O protagonista revirou os olhos diante o comentário, entrando no restaurante sem falar nada.

A região onde estavam é uma área situada na Península de Kowloon, território presente em Hong Kong. Independentemente do universo de Jojo ser um lugar fictício (ou pelo menos era), continha diversos aspectos referentes à “realidade”, como a correlação entre músicas populares e personagens, acontecimentos históricos ou curiosidades acerca de diferentes culturas. Agora que sua presença existia nesse universo, outras conexões entre ele e o seu mundo apareciam à medida que explorava: durante o período de 1842, Hong Kong virou uma colônia britânica, sendo resultado da derrota da China na Guerra do Ópio, o país em 1860 tendo que ceder o território de Kowloon após o retorno da batalha junto a outro fracasso. Devido à passagem de mais de 120 anos desde o combate e a aquisição européia, alguns pensariam que os traços asiáticos no local teriam ficado escassos, entretanto a situação foi oposta: tendo a maior parte da sua população com ascendência chinesa, grande parte de suas práticas culturais se mantiveram, mesmo que houvesse a introdução de elementos britânicos no território. Essa mistura é visível até hoje, o estabelecimento escolhido pelo Joestar sendo a prova: a fachada do comércio apresentava dois pares de colunas em sua entrada, essas pilastras pintadas em um tom escuro, lembrando salões vitorianos (estilo originado na Inglaterra), porém a placa do restaurante estava pintada em vermelho, utilizando o idioma cantonês para a nomenclatura, junto a escultura de um dragão sob o item, o pigmento carmim remetia a tonalidade vibrante da área, já o animal cuspidor de fogo carregava uma simbologia chinesa, comumente associado à prosperidade e boa sorte.

Entrou no estabelecimento com os outros. O chão do local era composto de pisos de carvalho no tom escuro; já a parede tinha como sua cor principal branco, apesar das linhas retangulares marrons, alguns quadros presentes na recepção do estabelecimento, ainda que se tornassem escassos no salão. As toalhas de mesa expressavam uma pigmentação vívida, tirando a neutralidade do local através de um tecido verde chamativo e uma elevação vermelha no centro, sendo o espaço onde os garçons serviam os pratos.

Kakyoin se sentou ao lado do Jotaro, você posicionada próxima ao seu melhor amigo, enquanto Joseph ficou perto do neto, em frente ao trio universitário igual a Abdul.

—Para chegarmos no Egito no menor tempo possível, precisaremos de algumas estratégias especiais. —O grisalho comentou, direcionando um olhar fixo aos jovens, uma expressão séria no rosto.

A mesa onde estavam ficou em silêncio, todos encarando o mais velho, o clima mudou em questão de segundos: as cores neutras do restaurante pareciam consumir o ambiente em uma vasta escuridão, qualquer barulho externo ignorado, o ar soando denso ao ponto de um ato simples como respirar soar um crime. Noriaki ergueu as sobrancelhas, colocando uma das mãos no queixo, sendo o primeiro a dizer algo:

—Quais estratégias está pensando, senhor Joestar?

—Não podemos nos dar ao luxo de ir de avião. —Abdul acrescentou, ainda fixando o campo de visão rumo ao idoso, o corpo reto, não desviando o foco. —Isso custaria a vida de outras pessoas, especialmente se um inimigo parecido com Gray Fly surgisse.

—Suponho que nossos trajetos futuros serão em terra ou mar. —Você concluiu, sua voz firme, recebendo um aceno positivo do grisalho.

—Exatamente. Na minha opinião, o melhor caminho é pelo mar, deste modo evitaremos fronteiras, o monte himalaia e desertos, já até criei a rota: contornaremos a península Malaia e atravessaremos o Oceano Índico, realizando o trajeto da Seda Marítima.

—Daria tempo? —Muhammad perguntou. —Não quero ser negativo, mas só temos 50 dias.

Joseph sorriu com a dúvida, recebendo a brecha que precisava para espalhar o conhecimento de avô acumulado em todas essas décadas:

—Há mais de 100 anos, Júlio Verne publicou uma história sobre um homem que deu a volta ao mundo em 80 dias. Nellie Bly, uma jornalista inspirada pela narrativa, bateu o recorde realizando o percurso em dois meses e meio. Nós temos 50 dias e só precisamos realizar ¼ do trajeto. —Uma viagem dessa distância não é algo comum para a maioria das pessoas, gerando estranhamento quando algo semelhante é sugerido, o idoso conseguia entender a razão pela qual parte do quarteto o encarou com tanto ceticismo, então adicionou:

—Um fato importante sobre a jornada de Nellie é ter sido feita em 1889, utilizando navios, trens e os próprios pés, não existindo aviões na época.

Enquanto o Joestar contava a história, você desviou o olhar, o objetivo do idoso ao trazer a trajetória de Bly a mesa seria motivá-los através de uma vivência tida por alguém real, todavia não tinha dúvidas da capacidade dos Crusaders realizarem esse feito, lhe permitindo prestar atenção em outras coisas:

Suas íris caíram em um cliente familiar entrando no restaurante, os fios brancos penteados em um topete dispensando apresentações. Jean Pierre cumprimentou um dos recepcionistas, dedicando um pequeno sorriso acompanhado de um aceno de cabeça ao receber a saudação de volta, o rosto do europeu relaxado. Sem dúvidas do ponto de vista dos serventes de Dio, se manter em segredo se tratava de uma boa tática de luta, sendo um método usado várias vezes; nesse quesito tinha que dar o crédito ao Polnareff, se não possuísse conhecimento sobre o futuro, o rapaz teria se passado por um não-usuário graças ao quão casual parecia em um ambiente frequentado pelas pessoas que precisaria matar. Eventualmente, os olhos azuis do homem se encontraram com os seus, era muito tarde para desviar o foco, então lançou um joinha em direção ao francês, tentando agir normalmente, como se desconhecesse as verdadeiras intenções do platinado, o antagonista temporário ergueu uma das sobrancelhas, os ombros rígidos antes de suavizar junto a expressão dele, retribuindo o gesto. O fato de um inimigo contendo a mente controlada agir mais civilizadamente que o Jotaro era impressionante.

Jean Pierre caminhou sentido a mesa onde seu grupo estava, parando em frente ao quinteto, fazendo a seguinte pergunta:

—Com licença, podem me ajudar com uma coisa?

[elizzsush]

“Fuck you Comic Con nerds!” | DC - Batman WIP

Batfam X Isekaied Reader

— in which you, a DC fan gets isekaied into and gets saved by boy wonder. Only to get mad at him and B… it’s only after you calm down (still mad at them) you piece together what actually happened… but should you tell them?

AU: Soulmate (?), isekai Rating: Sfw

Note: You and Damien are the same age and shit. I don’t really remember how old he is but for the sake of fanfiction let’s age him up to 18 (or down I looked it up and it said he was 37? I have no idea where that info was from comic are confusing)

Warning: Y/N swears a lot and makes a like one sexual joke? _________________________________

One minute you were in the greatest, most magical place in the world: Six flags. And the next you were in the sewer. To say you were pissed and totally confused was an understatement. Those funnel cakes by the entrance were calling your name- you were gonna get one before you left! Now instead of that sweet cake smell it was replaced with the smell of shit and piss and whatever else lived in the sewer.

Sixflags was suppose to be relaxing- doctors orders. You just needed to relax and distract from-

You were in the sewers. You dreaded to think about what you may have stepped in while on your quest to find a manhole cover.

So yes, you looked like an idiot in a Superman cape carrying a Wayne enterprises mug wondering around the sewers. The mug was half off and made you feel like you existed in the world of DC instead of the regular merchandise… and the cape was because who doesn’t get a cape when they go to six flags? Or at least bring the cape they already bought with them. Looking back, you blamed the mug. Anyway, you were wandering around this horrible sewer with water greener then green. It seriously looked toxic… when you heard this horrible roar…

You glanced back from where you came- looking towards the sound, when you heard it again. So, like any sane person. You broke out into a sprint.

Bad ideas, because it heard you and was coming closer now.

You seriously doubted you would be able to outrun this thing for long. It was getting closer and rapidly. But, thankfully, luck was on your side- because you saw a manhole cover!

Climbing the ladder you pushed the thing open-

Only to almost get ran over by a fucking car! “Watch it!” You cursed at the speeding car, a certain finger proudly in the air as you climb out. Momentarily forgetting about the creature that was chasing you. Remember that you slammed the man hole cover shut in a hurry.

But, did you think you could compete with some monster when it comes to the battle of strength? Yeah, didn’t think so either. It blasted the manhole cover off of its neat little spot and you hurry back and away from the road. “What the- oh my god.” You breath in relief when the thing was too big to actually climb out of the sewers. “Killer croc… okay… I’m losing it… whatever it is…” you try and breath out to collect yourself but you were interrupted by the sound of a very angry lizard man… thing. Crocodile? “Okay fuck off!” You shouted angrily at the villain and rip your cap off. “Abusive aunts or some shit is hard but by god your annoying!” You huff and run away because that just made him more angry and you didn’t want to stick around for that.

You did run away while waving two fingers at him, each from the middle of two of your hands but that was neither here nor there. You just needed to walk away and clear your head-

And…

You bumped into someone on your little escape. A chest of a fucking cosplayer. “My day couldn’t be going worse- oh my god, Fuck you Comic Con nerds!” You swore at the boy in black, red and green. “Six flags was suppose to be fucking relaxing!” You swore at him and turned away to go the opposite way only to bare witness to the snarls of a certain croc

“get back here!” He made the fucking ground shake.

“Fuck you and your shitty Damien cosplay, I am out of here.” You turn and ran from him only he to met with the silhouette of a bat… man, it was fucking Batman. “Oh I wonder who it is? Bruce Wayne, no fucking duh, Go fight the idiot on acid and leave me out of it.” You hissed because you were cornered. You tend to lash out when your cornered. He approached you quieter now. “…Oh um, I’ll take the crocodile, thanks.” You spoke as you backed up only for him to make the ground shake harder-

“Fine! Boy wonder then god damn. At least he’s hot!”

“How do You know our names?” Boy wonder piped up. He was suddenly standing beside you.

“Are You dense or really into role play?” You hissed at them. “I don’t know what kind of budget your little prank crew is working with but screw off!” Just then the crocadile managed to ruin the ground around him and break free- resulting in Batman and Robin to fight him and you-

The sane one to run away, “I’m so suing six flags for this- didn’t sign up for their fucking role-play shit.”

—————————————

Okay, so after adjusting. You were no longer in six flags- nor some rich nerds cosplay special effects whatever. Hell you didn’t even somehow end up on a movie set shooting for the next Batman. “Gotham more like god dammit, right?” You joked to yourself, and the old women next to you. She just looked at you weirded out and oddly disappointed before shaking her head. “Okay, Fuck me then.”

So, yeah, you were feeling a lot of emotions. Hey, you can adjust to this! Because no way in hell was getting back to your world worth being involved in whatever episode or comic plot this whole thing was. Yeah no, fuck that. You made a checklist.

1. Get out of Gotham (metropolis was lovely, Superman was cool-)

2. Get enough money to fuck off to some corner of the world no one knew about.

And finally 3. Live peacefully knowing you’ll never get that funnel cake.

The only problem? You didn’t have any money, food, shelter, phone, money again, or anything besides the clothes on your back. And you were craving funnel cake. Yes, you were poor in Gotham. That was basically a death sentence.

At least you had a mug. A stupid, useless mug. Hey, at least you can beg for change with it! “I should rob people.” You mutter to yourself because, that seemed like a good easy way to get money- the old women next to you however eyed you warily and moved her purse. “Not you, we’re cool Margaret.” You sent her a wave and a wink and got up. This plan would work.

It was this or sell the Justice leagues names to villains. Which- hey that could make cash and make you dead!

—————————————

Despite what people will tell you, stealing is fun.

Who would have guessed- your a natural pick pocket! If pick pocketing was running past women and tugging their bags away. “My bag! My purse!” Okay, maybe you had a bit of a sick sense of humor but you were desperate! And you made 132 dollars and 25 cents. Had it been two days? Yes, had you been pepper sprayed twice? Yes again, but you avoided it!

The only regret you had? Why hadn’t it been marvel? Marvel just seemed easier to live in. Yes the world did end but it bounced back! You sighed and threw a penny in the air. You were honestly tired. Two days was a long time to go without a bed. You couldn’t get a job either, you tired and needed so much to prove you were a serial killer or a thief- which included a birth certificate you didn’t have and so much more. Background checks would be the death of you. Even at that small cafe you met Margret? Yeah it was Margret. “Well we’ll well, if it isn’t Gotham’s newest petty criminal.”

You dropped your penny. Leaving you with 24 cents.

It was Jason fucking Todd.

“If I die, at least make it by those thighs.” You said solemnly, accepting your death. “I mean seriously, you squat or something?” You did a wolf whistle and now you were being detained. Okay, you tried.

You never claimed to be better then a man. And if you did you lied.

“I got her B.”

.

.

.

.

“Banananannaan Batman! Da Na!” You sang as Batman’s Batmobile pulled into the bat cave. The same one you had been dragged too. “He’s the crime fighting vigilantes who works alone! Besides Robin, Nightwing, Gordon, the Justice League, batgirl, Red Robin, red hood, Oracle, Barbra, um… I know theirs more help me out jay bird?” You sang as he excited the car. “He refuses to kill the joker who’s a mass murder ands death would save thousands! It’s Batman! The hero man! Danananana!”

“How do You know?” Batman asked as he walked towards you.

“The Song? Oh I improvised. Hard to find rhymes for Batman, hero man is pretty good though, huh?” He fucking punched you! “Fuck! What the hell dude? Wait are you the angry Batman who’s quieter or the nice Batman- god it’s so hard to know which one I ended up with.”

“This is serious.” Dick Said as he grabbed Batman hand and pulled him away from you.

“Heard of coping? penis?” You rolled your eyes, “this is kinda how I do it.”

“You sold our information, or Superman’s information too a villain. Tell us why and how you knew it and we’ll let you go.” He continued, “our friend is in serious danger now because of you.” He gritted his teeth looking upset.

You just rolled your eyes and licked your now bloody teeth. “Would have sold your guys information for a lot more then I got on me. Living large with eight dogs- maybe cats? Don’t know how I feel about animals actually. Which do you prefer dogs or cats?”

“We need to know how many villains you sold us out too.” Dick said calmly, his face getting closer to your own. “Now.”

You smile and lean closer to him. “You free after this?” He backed away with a frustrated look and Batman put his hand on Dick shoulder. “Oh B is tapping in now- great!”

“Your the only person who knows who we are.” Another voice said you looked behind you and saw Damien.

“That you don’t trust. Maybe check your inner circles before punching a poor thief! God… you’d think the world greatest detective would fact check- oh wait isn’t the greatest a chimp or something? I’ve always loved monkeys- oh maybe I’d get a monkey for my pent house.”

“You have no family, no friends, no birth certificate- before last week you didn’t exist. There are no records of you being born or traveling to Gotham. Who exactly are you?” Batman leaned close to you.

You stayed silent, thinking of your options. "I was with a traveling circus..." You began, "Then one day someone rigged the equipment for my parent's routine and then batman adopted me, and that was how I began robin..." You spoke solemnly, you noticed how a certain blue suited bird man tensed up. "Aw, don't tell me we have the same backstory!" You accused the Nighwing, "well one of us is going to have to change it and I hate to tell you, but I make it work."

"She knows more about us than our names... or at least more about Nighwing." You heard a robin mutter, the red one.

"Okay being red was his thing” you look at red hood, “and you took it, so you have no place to talk about me and penis's copycat situation- Even though I totally did it first and he should change it." You nudged your head towards Red Hood, "Kinda like how you took his role as Robin, but you know what Ima stay away from that can of worms haha." You laughed awkwardly as Jason stood up from behind you and walked towards you menacingly.

"This is a Major Turn Off for me you know? The costumes just don’t do it- maybe if you strip-“ and your mouth was tapped shut.

_____________________________________NOTE: Y/N is supposed to be Deadpool coded because I was watching Deadpool and laughing my ass off earlier.

[psycho-pills]

A Second Life for Strays! ฅ (•˕ •マ.ᐟ sylus x reader fanfic // prev // next

౨ৎ⭑˚ RATING; 18+ (mdni)

౨ৎ⭑˚ PAIRING; sylus x afab!reader (not the mc)

౨ৎ⭑˚ SYNOPSIS; you are a soldier reincarnated into the world of love and deepspace, except you're not the mc. she still exists. despite looking exactly like her, you don’t act or sound the same. and to make things stranger, cats follow you everywhere.

౨ৎ⭑˚ GENRE/WARNING; angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn, (mutual?) pining, eventual fluff, eventual romance, eventual smut, cursing, graphic descriptions of violence, blood, mental breakdowns, ptsd, death, isekai, reincarnation, cats/cat puns, mc is named serenophe to avoid confusion/reader is not mc

౨ৎ⭑˚ AUTHOR'S NOTE; a gentle reminder: this is written in third-person limited with she/her pronouns. only the prologue is written in second-person. i use the terms [name] [surname] instead of (y/n) (y/ln) because it's easier for me to write. also, i know this idea is kinda weird and outlandish, but i love cats and love and deepspace, so why not combine the two? ;v;

౨ৎ⭑˚ LINKS; ao3 // masterpost

ch. one — a cat-astrophic realization! ౨ৎ⭑˚ word count; 3.9k

Where… She thinks. Where am I?

Her eyes flutter open before immediately squinting from the fluorescent lights above. The constant beeping of the patient monitor spikes in sound as her heartbeat increases. Instinctively, her hand reaches to shield her eyes, only to stop short with a sharp tug. A flash of pain shoots up her arm, drawing her attention to the thin IV tube embedded in her skin. She grits her teeth and lowers her hand, squinting through the blinding lights.

Gradually, her vision adjusts. One eye peeks open, the other still closed in protest. She slowly sweeps over the room. As her surroundings come into focus, her heart rate steadies.

The hospital room is bathed in morning light that filters through the large windows. As [Name] glances toward the windows, long shadows cross the room. Outside, there's a breathtaking view of the bustling, futuristic city below. The overall view of the world is serene, completely unlike the storm of confusion in [Name]'s mind.

The room is comfortably sized. Modern yet contemporary furniture and pale grey walls accommodate the small space. Sleek medical equipment lines the side of the room, but there's a sense of luxury present. Crisp linen sheets, plush chairs, and a vase of fresh flowers on a side table. It's more like a boutique hotel than a hospital room. 

A soft beige blanket covers her body, and the scent of jasmine whiffs up her nose. An unoccupied recliner sits in the corner near the windows, perhaps meant for a visitor; however, the room is isolated. The medical equipment strap to her arm and chest drones on. The rhythmic beeping indicated the steady tracking of her vitals. A small monitor occasionally blinks, recording her heartbeat and oxygen levels.

As she begins to stir, her body drags her down. Everything feels heavy. Her limbs, her eyelids, even her thoughts. There's an overwhelming sense of disorientation like she's floating between worlds. Memories stir, hazy at first, but slowly they sharpen. One after the other, they trickle back—chaos, pain, death. 

Her death.

Her body feels sore, but her head feels worse. She remembers the battlefield. She remembers succumbing to her bullet wound. The sensation of death still lingers like a cold shadow. Yet now, with her eyes fully adjusted, she takes in the pristine hospital room, and it becomes apparent that something is wrong.

I'm alive. 

The thought feels impossible. Absurd, even. And yet here she is—breathing, heart pounding—fully conscious. It was like she finally woke up from a long, deep coma.

With more awareness, she takes in the room. Across from her bed is a small, flat-screen television, turned off, reflecting the room's dusky mood. Besides it, a small door leads to what she assumes is an adjoining bathroom. Everything about the room is carefully designed to be soothing, sterile, and impersonal. However, it's oddly welcoming in a way she can't quite grasp.

Her body protests as she fumbles to sit up, mindful of the tubes and wires attached to her arm and chest. As she adjusts herself, she catches a glimpse of her reflection on the dark, glassy screen of the television. With some effort, she leans forward to take in her appearance better.

Instantly, [Name]'s breath catches in her throat. She pauses. Her reflection stares back at her, but something is off. Her face is hers, but it's not. All of her features are the same. Hair, eyes, mouth, nose… However, everything is just sharper now. Clearer. Her skin smoother, and her hair fuller. If she didn't know any better, she'd swear she looks almost identical to the female lead of her favorite otome game. 

But that can't be right. Can it?

A chill runs down her spine, and her eyes dart downward to her chest. Panic flares in her gut as she remembers the battlefield, the bullet wound that should have taken her life. Slowly, as if afraid of what she'll find, she hooks a finger under the collar of her hospital gown and pulls it away from her body, expecting to see a scar, a wound, anything.

There's nothing. Her skin is smooth, unmarked. No bullet wound, no scar, no evidence that she has ever been injured at all. Her heart stutters in her chest, and the panic she's been trying to suppress starts to rise like a wave, threatening to swallow her whole.

"What the hell is going on?" She croaks.

Her throat feels dry and scratchy, like it hasn't been used in days. A rough cough forces its way up and makes her wince. She tries to settle her breathing, but it's no use. The confusion, the fear—it's smothering her.

Just as she's about to lose herself to the spiraling thoughts, the door to her room clicks open. She jerks her head toward the sound. A man steps in, tall and composed, his black hair framing his face in sharp, elegant lines. His demeanor's cool but professional. There is a slight air of authority that immediately draws her attention.

She blinks, and her stomach drops.

There's no way.

Her eyes widen in disbelief as she stares at him. It can't be. It can't be. But there's no mistaking the man standing before her, his confident stride, the careful way he carries himself. His gaze idles before settling back on his notes. She knows that face, that presence. She can practically hear her heart pound louder as the impossible claws at her.

She glances at the name tag pinned to his coat, just to be sure. Zayne. It's there, clear as day. The doctor with a cold exterior and a reputation for being emotionally untouchable. Yet beneath it all, there's a hidden tenderness. He was one of them: a character she had admired, the one whose storyline was as complex and fascinating as the others.

Her mind reels. Oh, my Gods. This can't be real. 

She blinks several times, expecting his face to change into something else, but nothing happens. He's still there, as composed and meticulous as ever. The exact character she once admired behind a screen now stands right before her.

The disbelief overtakes her. It's suffocating and all-encompassing. How can this be happening? She died—she remembers dying—and yet, she woke up here. Her body tenses. Her muscles tighten as the pieces of her situation fall into place, and realization sinks its teeth into her.

She can't breathe. It's impossible. All of this, everything around her, feels like a nightmare. A twisted dream she can't wake up from. There's no way, there's no way she's been reincarnated. And not just anywhere. In the world of Love and Deepspace, the very game she escaped into for fun is her new reality now.

"You're awake," Zayne says calmly, but verging on something more unreadable. Confusion? Suspicion? He takes a step closer, his gaze lingering on her face longer than a doctor's should. [Name] can tell he's trying to remain composed. However, his eyes hold hesitance, like he's looking at something he can't believe.

Slowly, as if worried she might vanish if he speaks too quickly, he continues, "I'm Dr. Zayne, and you will be under my care for the foreseeable future." His voice is smooth, but his words are cautious.

"And you must be Miss…" He pauses and glances down at the file. His eyes squint as if the name doesn't match what he was expecting. "…[Name] [Surname]."

She swallows, almost choosing silence, but her raspy voice escapes anyway.

"Yes?"

The word barely sounds confident. She's frozen under his gaze, trapped in disbelief. Zayne's sharp eyes roam her face, drifting down to her upper body. It's not the casual assessment of a doctor checking on a patient. No, this look—it's familiar. It's the same gaze she used to see when playing the game, the moments when his character's cold exterior would briefly soften during some of his bonds and memoria. Her stomach churns with anxiety.

What. The. Fuck.

Zayne pushes his glasses up, and his professional mask slips back on. He steps closer to the bed, his expression shifting, but she can sense the tension beneath it. 

"I'm just checking for any signs of concussion or physical injuries," he says. However, it sounds more like he's reassuring himself than her. 

He leans in, and his eyes dart over her face. He scans her features for any signs of bruises or swelling. "Given your condition when you were brought in, we need to monitor for potential head trauma."

[Name] stays silent as he gently lifts the edge of her gown at her shoulder. His fingers brush her skin as he places the cold metal of the stethoscope against her chest. His touch is light and purely professional, but she can't help but feel a rising discomfort. 

Zayne may act like this is routine, but she can see the tension in his posture and how his gaze keeps finding her face. He's trying to hide it, but she can tell—he's scrutinizing her for more than physical injuries. It's like he's trying to fit together puzzle pieces from different boxes.

The metal is cold and harsh. She inhales deeply without him even asking. Then she exhales, and the stethoscope leaves her chest not a moment sooner. He scribbles something down in his notes. Almost hesitantly. 

"Everything seems to be in order. There doesn't appear to be any visible scarring or physical trauma," Zayne mutters. A bit too neutral. As he steps back, his eyes idle on her a beat longer than necessary. "Regardless, we'll run a few more tests to be sure."

She gives a slow nod, observing how his jaw tenses as he adjusts the equipment by her bedside. He's trying to play it cool, but the cracks are there. Something is bothering him, and she knows exactly what it is.

He recognizes her face.

She looks too much like the heroine of the game, the one who's the center of this world's story. [Name] isn't supposed to be here. She isn't the main character of the game. She's something else—an anomaly.

Zayne frowns when he catches her staring at him. He quickly returns to his task, clearing his throat like it can shake off his weariness. "If you're feeling any discomfort, let me know. We'll have the results of your tests soon." He says calmly, but his eyes still carry that hint of confusion.

As he jots more notes on her chart, her mind spirals. This is far more than she expected, far more surreal, terrifying, and overwhelming. She never anticipated finding herself in this situation, least of all being reincarnated into her favorite otome game. But here she is, alive in a world she once thought was fiction. 

Zayne looks at her again, his lips parting like he's about to speak. His face is composed; however, there's a shadow of skepticism beneath. Yet before he can get a word out, the buzz of his pager cuts through the moment. Instantly, the room's atmosphere shifts and his posture straightens.

The hospital's overhead speaker crackles to life, the receptionist's voice urgent: "Code Blue. Code Blue. Paging all medical personnel to surgical room two, please."

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he hesitates. Zayne gives her one last look, like he's trying to commit her to memory. When the voice over the intercom repeats the emergency, he finally breaks away. His eyes tear from her face with visible reluctance. 

"Please excuse me," he says with urgency as he prepares to leave. "If you need anything, Nurse Yvonne is down the hall." 

Without waiting for her response, he sharply turns and exits the room. His footsteps fade down the hall, leaving her alone with her racing thoughts. In his absence, the room feels eerily still, like the air is holding its breath. Then, the silence starts to eat away at her. The impossible truth digs into her, and something inside snaps.

In one swift motion, she throws the sheets away from her lower body. [Name] swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands—albeit too quickly. Her legs, frail from disuse, buckle beneath her. She stumbles, catching herself on the IV pole.

The cold metal anchors her as she settles down. Her muscles are weak, but determination propels her forward. [Name] drags the IV stand along as she shuffles toward the attached bathroom. Her steps awkward and sluggish.

Reaching the door, she kicks it open with the bare heel of her foot, too focused on her next task to bother with formalities. She lumbers inside, not even closing the door behind her. The thirst clawing at her throat is unbearable, a raw itch that she can no longer ignore. Like a starved animal, she ducks under the sink. She twists the faucet open and lets the crisp, refreshing water pour into her mouth. The liquid soothes her parched throat, the cool sensation spreading through her body as she gulps down as much as possible.

When finally sated, [Name] wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and turns off the faucet. However, just as she's about to leave the bathroom, her eyes catch something in the corner of the mirror—her own reflection. She freezes, seeing her face a lot clearer in the bathroom mirror than with the television's blackened screen. 

Slowly, she leans closer, her hospital gown brushing against the wet edge of the sink. Her breath catches in her throat as she studies herself. "It’s me," she whispers. "But… Different."

Her fingers rise to touch her face, to trace the contours of her facial features. [Name] turns her face left, then right, her brow furrowing. Despite the striking resemblance to the game's protagonist, there's something off—something that makes it evident that she's different. Something subtle but undeniable. She's not the protagonist, but she's dangerously close. It's like she's staring at a near-perfect replica with slight imperfections that make it clear she's an outsider.

A thought jolts her back to the present. Actually, she thinks, why did Zayne call me by my real name? If I look this much like the protagonist, shouldn't he have called me—

Her mind goes blank. She tries to recall the heroine's name, the one who should be at the center of this world, but… nothing. She can't remember. Her forehead creases as she struggles to dig the name out of her memory. Yet the name remains out of reach, like a forgotten word on the tip of her tongue. [Name]'s mind is foggy; that part of her knowledge yet to recover from her reincarnation. 

The blankness gnaws at her, but she pushes it aside. She can't focus on that right now. Her mind races to piece together what little information she has. Considering Zayne's reaction, he knew she wasn't her despite how closely she resembled the protagonist. That may be why he called [Name] by her real name instead. Yet this realization only poses more questions. How does he know her name? And, more importantly, who had brought her to the hospital? Zayne's words implied that someone dumped her here, but why?

Her thoughts swirl as she steps out of the bathroom, a little steadier now. [Name] is exhausted, mentally and physically, and all she wants is to make sense of this unfathomable situation. She heads back to bed, ready to collapse. But just as she's about to sit down, she stops dead in her tracks.

A plump tuxedo cat is lounging on the sheets. Its round face stares at her with a manner that borders on playful mischief. Its green eyes gleam with amusement at her shock. The sight is so unexpected that she blinks several times in a row.

"Um," she stammers, gesturing the cat away from the bed. "Can you move?"

The absurdity of talking to a cat doesn't even faze her anymore. After everything she's been through, who will judge her? She's all alone in this strange, new reality.

"Sure," the cat replies. High-pitched and child-like.

Her heart skips a beat. The cat just spoke. 

Like everything's normal, the plump creature hops off the bed and waddles to the counter. [Name] stills. Her mind struggles to catch up with the sheer insanity in front of her. She can only watch as the cat leaps onto the counter and grabs a clear plastic bag hidden in the sink with his mouth. The cat drags the bag out, dropping it unceremoniously with a dull thud. The contents of the bag spill out in front of her—her military uniform, stiff with dried blood around the breast pocket. The sight of the uniform jolts her, the memories of the battlefield flooding back too quickly for comfort.

"Change," the cat orders, his tone matter-of-fact. "We're leaving."

Her mind stalls. She doesn't move. She doesn't breathe. All she can do is stare in utter disbelief. It takes a moment before her body reacts at all. When it finally does, she starts laughing. It's loud and hysterical, almost tipping on sobs. She's dreaming. She has to be. It's the only logical explanation for everything. 

"I've officially lost it," she gasps between fits of maddened laughter, clutching her sides as tears sting her eyes. Suddenly, the room feels uncanny, like she's trapped in some B-rated horror movie. She crawls onto the bed with shaky hands, diving under the sheets and wrapping herself in darkness.

She shuts her eyes tightly, curling into herself and willing everything to disappear. A soft chant escapes her lips. Fragile. Desperate. "Wake up. Wake up. Wake up."

The silence that follows is almost palpable. Heavy. The only sound is the soft patter of paws on the tiled floor, growing louder as they approach. Suddenly, she feels the bed dip next to her head. The cat's weight presses into the pillow. Before she can react, the tuxedo cat tugs at the edge of the blanket, pulling it back just enough to reveal her face.

"Stop playing around, Human," the cat says impatiently. "We gotta scram before they find you."

Her eyes snap open, her heart hammering in her chest. The weight of reality—or whatever this is—crashes down on her like a tidal wave, leaving her breathless. 

"Who?" [Name] croaks out, barely above a whisper. "Who's coming to get me?"

The cat lets out a huff, a sound that might have been a purr if it wasn't laced with annoyance. "Do you really want to find out?" His tone is sarcastic like the answer should be obvious.

[Name] shakes her head slowly, her body unable to process the fear and confusion fast enough. She barely understands what’s happening, but something deep inside warns her that whoever—or whatever—is coming for her won’t be friendly. Sensing her resignation, the cat sits back on his haunches, his green eyes glinting with satisfaction.

"Good," the cat says with a slight nod. "The name's Spots, by the way. Not that you bothered to ask."

Another silence settles between them, until [Name] realizes Spots is waiting for her to get up. She stills for a moment, weighing her options. 

She could stay here, close her eyes, and hope this dream fades into nothingness. Maybe everything is just a product of her exhausted mind. A hallucination caused by trauma and stress. Maybe, if she holds on long enough, she’ll wake up in the real world, back to the life she knows. However, something tells her this doesn’t end with a simple waking.

The next best solution is that she could believe what’s happening. As impossible and terrifying as it seems, she could trust the cat—or at least trust that he knows more than she does. [Name] could just ignore the absurdity of a talking cat and follow him, because the alternative is facing whoever is coming for her alone. Zayne might return, but even that possibility feels unsettling. There’s too much confusion between them, and she doesn’t know if she could handle his reaction if he discovers what she’s beginning to accept: that she doesn’t belong here.

But Spots knows. He knows something about her situation. He knows what’s coming. And right now, that makes him the only source of guidance she has.

A frustrated heave escapes her as she finalizes her decision.

"Fuck it," she mutters.

Against her better judgment, [Name] slides out of bed, her legs no longer shaky as she drags the IV pole with her. She crouches down to pick up her clothes and combat boots. She glances back at Spots. He's swinging his tail lazily, eyes closed, a Cheshire grin permanent on his fluffy face.

Like ripping off a bandage, [Name] grits her teeth as she yanks the IV tube from her arm. The sharp sting makes her wince, but she pushes through the pain. She's quick to regain her composure. Without hesitation, she slips out of her hospital gown and into her military uniform. The fabric is stiff with dried blood, a cruel memento of her death.

But as she dresses, a disturbing thought begins to nag at her. If this is a dream, then… will she wake up back on the battlefield? Back in the grassy outskirts, far from the perishing city, fighting some meaningless war? Did she really want to go back to that? Can she even go back to that?

Her hand instinctively drifts to her heart, to the spot where the bullet pierced her. Her fingers brush over the dried blood. The hole in her uniform is the only proof of her last moments. She sighs and shakes her head, trying to dispel the unwanted thoughts. No. The mere thought of waking up back there—back in the war—terrifies her more than this new reality ever could.

Moving to the sink, she grabs a paper towel and runs it under cold water. Carefully, she dabs at the bloodstain, trying to clean it, but the water only spreads the mess. A frown tugs at her lips as she realizes her mistake. Spots hop down from the bed, noticing her frustration, and he is far too impatient to wait. He strolls over to her and stretches his paws against her leg, nudging her to pick him up.

Taking the hint, [Name] heaves and scoops the plump tuxedo cat into her arms, holding him close to her chest. Conveniently, Spots’ round body covers the bloodstain on her uniform.

"Ready?" Spots ask.

He gestures toward the closed door with his head, his green eyes narrowing to urge her forward.

Reluctantly, she nods and moves toward the exit of her hospital room. Her hand wraps around the cold doorknob, but then she hesitates. Frozen with uncertainty. Afraid of the unknown guaranteed outside this small, contained room. Her fingers still on the knob as she takes a shallow breath.

"Human," Spots purrs. It's a soothing rumble against her heart. "It's okay. Whatever happens, you have me now. You're not alone in this."

[Name] presses her lips into a tight line, reassured by the cat’s comforting words. Something about his presence, about his gentle confidence, calms her. It doesn’t make sense, but she doesn’t care to question it. Right now, she craves stability, no matter how strange the source. 

Without another word, she pulls the door open and peeks her head out. She scans the hallway. The sterile, quiet corridor stretches out in both directions. Unbeknownst to her, that first step beyond the door will set a chain reaction of events into motion, incidents and experiences that will shift the story she once knew, casting her into a role she never imagined playing.

"Here goes nothing," she whispers, stepping into the unknown.

ao3 // masterpost // prev // next

[gay-dorito-dust]

Isekai Reader, currently floating in mid-air: this is fine this is normal...

Isekai Reader: FUCKIN GET ME DOWN!!!*flapping their arms and just trying to get down*

Dick: just calm down maybe you might float down

Isekai Reader: I TRIED EARLIER!

Dick: you really need to be calm

Isekai Reader: FUCK YOU GRAYSON!

......

Duke: how did that happen?

Isekai Reader, stops struggling a while ago and just float mindlessly: my best bet is that after mama wayne possessed me*shivers remembering what happened the week before* is that I gained a but of ghostly powers look I can phase through the chandelier if I want to

Duke: would kryptonite work on you?

Isekai reader: I'm not kryptonian

Isekai reader: wanna find out?

Duke: sure lemme go grab it

Isekai reader: m'kay

....

Alfred: why thank you for cleaning the ceiling and the chandelier

Isekai Reader: no problemo does that mean I get the last snack you made *hopeful*

Alfred: go right ahead

Isekai reader: YAY!!

....

Bruce sipping coffee as he looks at the picture he took with his parents, reader cropped out(you know what I mean): mom.. dad.. *ignores his eldest son running away from reader*

Dick, runs away with the said snack reader wants: ITS JUST ONE SNACK! THE HELL

Isekai Reader, zooming through the air: I DID WHAT ALFRED TOLD ME TO AND THAT SHIT IS MY REWARD GET BACK HERE GRAYSON!

Isekai! Reader/ you: *floating* coming here was already weird enough, but having ghost powers is another thing.

Dick: what’s your hero name?

Isekai! Reader/ you: *smirks* Danny Phantom *waits for applause*

Duke:…is that another one of your references or?

Isekai! Reader/ you: *pouts as you being to phase through the ceiling into Jason’s room* boo, you’re both boring I’m going to hit on your hot brother.

Dick: DO NOT HIT ON JASON!

Duke: you’re even starting to sound like Bruce.

Dick; aww man. *pouts* but seriously who’s Danny phantom?

Duke: *shrugs*

…

Jason: I can feel you staring at me babe.

Isekai! Reader/you: no you can’t.

Jason; just because you’ve got powers doesn’t mean I can feel that stare that you always give me.

Isekai! Reader/ you: …you knew?

Jason: you don’t exactly make it subtly to be honest.

Isekai! Reader/you: …*phases through the floor*

…

Isekai! Reader/ you: *to dick and duke* HE FUCKING KNOWS!

Dick: you don’t exactly make it subtle.

Duke: I mean you stare at his back, thighs, biceps, chest and his face so intently I got concerned for your health.

Isekai!reader/ you:…he’s really pretty!

Dick: am I pretty *batts his eye lashes*

Isekai! Reader/ you: …I guess…

Dick: WHY DID IT TAKE YOU SO LONG TO AWNSER!?

…

Martha: do we think we did something wrong with possessing them?

Thomas: no, what makes you think that my love?

Martha: *points at Isekai! Reader/ you -now having learnt how to fly and go invisible- go after Dick, Tim, Jason and Stephanie for reasons unknown*

Dick: WHAT THE FUCK

Jason: WERE SORRY FOR SPOILING THE SHOW!

Tim: IT WAS ALL DICK’s IDEA!

Dick: WHAT THE FUCK TIM

Tim: IT’s TRUE!

Stephanie: MY PHONE ISNT WORKING! *it’s screen glitches as the words ‘you spoiled it for me’ are scrawled across it*

[missbunnybunny]

Full version.

I got this idea. Here me out, it ya think this idea is good enough to become a story lmk.

Isekai!reader - how finds herself in an otome game. One she played so long ago that the memory is distant.

She woke up as the oldest daughter of the Duke that was not needed in the story but also not forgotten.

Reader is confused on how to return to her world. And the Duke is of no help.

From what she can see, he is a loving father and husband, but he works so much that he neglects his loved ones.

Yandere!prince that sees reader eating outside a restaurant with her maid and knight. His wearing a hood to hide his aperance.

He eyes remain on your figure, frozen as he sees you eat a piece of cake.

Wonders why you entrance him so much. But he has some important business to take care of. So he takes his leave.

Yandere!Knight that spotted you walking around the capital while he was on patrol.

He thinks that the dress you're wearing suits you.

Can't stop looking or thinking about the way you smile as your maid excitedly points you towards a food stall.

Wonders from what family your from.

Yandere! Sorcerer that unexpectedly gets helped when reader gives him an item he dropped.

He has not seen you around, but he thanks you for your kindness.

He asked for your name, but before you can tell him, your maid tells you that it was time to go home.

You apologize and leave.

Yandere!second prince who helps you as you're about to fall.

He asks if you're okay. Before he noticed that your heel had broken.

He tells you to wait as he runs into a store and buys you a new pair of shoes.

Reader bushes as he kneels and helps her put her shoe back on. She can't help feeling like a princess.

Yandere! Duke, who meets you when you enter your estate. Your father is seeing him off, as your carge arrived.

Your father greets you with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Yandere!Duke looks at you.

Your father introduced you to the Duke. Yandere!Duke that smiles at you, takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it.

Yandere!Duke smiles when he sees you blush and look around at anything but him.

Yandere!Duke waves goodbye as he leaves your state.

In a party that your father held, you meet the female lead. You didn't realize that meeting her unknowingly changed the course of the kingdom.

Will you survive?