I Just Cached Up With The One Punch Manga And Ahhhhhh Spoiler Alert I Can't Get Enough Of Garou I Feel

Story Time (Ushijima x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: When you are assigned a partner project with the intimidating Ushiwaka, you start to realize he’s not all that scary, and maybe, just maybe you could teach him a thing or two about Happily Ever Afters.

Author’s Note: I’m just gonna say it now: Ushiwaka would be a big softie for his s/o. There, I said it. Anyways, he’s a lil OOC in this fic, but suck it up bc he’s adorable… well, at least to me, he is. Enjoy! 

Word count: 3344

        The rain drops on the window were having a race, and droplet number three was winning. You, the referee of this epic face off, sat in class quite boredly, barely comprehending the teacher’s droning on about a new project. You were going to have a partner and a syllabus, so there was no reason for you to listen that intensely. Your neck was sore from being held in it’s turned position for such a stretch of time, and so was the hand that held your chin, but you couldn’t care less. A tune popped into your head, and while humming slightly you began to bounce your knee to the beat as well. 

        “That song is super old, you know,” the redhead who sat beside you piped up, “try singing a newer one, like ‘Filter.’” 

        “Tendou, is there something you and YN would like to share with the class?” the teacher announced, giving your desk mate a pointed look. 

        “Sorry, miss, I was just suggesting YN change her radio station. The song she was on wasn’t really my style,” he teasingly remarked. A couple of students chuckled at the facial expressions the class clown and the teacher exchanged, but you were just glad the attention was once more off you. Finally, the teacher backed down and returned to the list she was reading aloud, and Tendou gave you a victorious smirk. 

        “’Serendipity’ is not that old,” you whispered to him while keeping your eyes on the front of the class. 

        The redhead raised his brow in return, opening his mouth to counter, “You know it's from three years ago, right. They’ve made plenty of new-”

        “YN.” The teacher’s call instantly grabbed your attention, and you looked up at her in fear of a scolding. “You’ll be partners with Ushijima.” The statement startled you, until you remembered oh crap, there’s a new project. Dark green eyes found yours from across the room, and you blushed before glancing away. Your desk mate beside you had noticed, however, and let out a small hum with a devious smirk before moving to join his own partner. 

        Tendou’s intimidating teammate sauntered over to your desk, completely dismissing the lack of personal space and invading your precious bubble. He didn’t smile at you, but he never smiled, so that was to be expected. Ushijima was known as a terrifyingly strong, but equally handsome, man, and with that information, you received the same amount of pitying looks as you did jealous. 

        Ignoring the eyes on you, you watched in your peripheral vision as Ushijima pulled up a chair right next to your desk and crashed down into it. His lumbering body wasn’t as graceful as it seemed on television, and you couldn’t help but spiral into a mental rabbit hole at the thought of him, or more specifically, his volleyball team, and the games you had seen them play on local sports stations. There was always one player your eyes never strayed from, but to be fair, the platinum blond setter was highly attractive. 

        You were drawn from your thoughts by a throat clearing at your side. This time, the man’s spine-chilling presence was too close to bear, so you scooched your own seat away slightly, only to cringe at the loud screech it made against the floor. A look flashed in Ushijima’s eyes, but it was gone too quickly for you to identify, especially as you chuckled nervously at your own blunder. Finally, he gruffly spoke up. “I think we should read books to the local elementary school.”

        Silence fell over you. Yep, that was definitely the last thing you expected to hear from the stone-faced ace. “W-we should what?” you asked incredulously.

        “For our ‘Give Back to the Community’ project. I think we should read to elementary schoolers.” Oh, so that’s what the assignment was about. However, your fellow third year’s suggestion was just as jaw-dropping as when you first heard it. To make sure he was serious, you inspected his dark orbs, only to find they were just as indifferent as when he first approached you. Well, no point in arguing with him now, you thought, instantly adhering to his admittedly good plan. In any case, you already had a younger cousin who attended that school, and would love to see her again. 

         “I think that’s a great idea,” you declared while flashing him a small smile. “What kind of books were you thinking?”

                                ~~~

        Walking through the halls, you glanced back down at the note you had for Ushijima. It was a reminder he had wanted you to make for both of you, along with a time and place of when you would read at the elementary school. Last night you had contacted its principal and had gotten the go ahead for your project. Now where is that brute, you thought as you searched for his olive-brown hair. At first, you thought it would have been easy given his hulking form. But now, after trying to hunt him down for at least twenty minutes, you were starting to grow agitated. 

        “Hey YN, looking for someone?” A voice sounded behind you. Turning around at its familiarity, you expected to also see your partner, only to flush at the sight of your crush. Tendou smirked at your red face, but he also appeared disappointed. You didn’t notice a thing, though, as your eyes hadn’t strayed once from Semi. The blond looked at you almost unimpressed, and you subconsciously wondered if there was something on your face, or if your hair had been mussed up. 

        “Y-yeah, umm,” you cleared your throat at the stutter. “Have you seen Ushiwaka anywhere? I have our project time for him.” 

        Tendou smiled at something, or someone behind you, and kept his mouth shut when a deep, stiff voice spoke, “Hello YN.” Whipping around, you beamed victoriously at the sight. The action must have blinded the ace player, because he looked away directly after. 

        Shoving the note into Ushijima’s hands, you informed him, “We got the appointment on Friday at the elementary school closest to here. I already spoke with our teacher, and she gave us permission to miss school for it, thank God. It’s around lunch, so we’ll have to leave a little before that time.” Your eyes shined with pride at what you had already done for the project, and you talked almost excitedly. You had always wanted to work with children, so you adored Ushijima’s idea. 

        “Sounds great, I’ll see you then.” 

        “Okay, see you guys around.” Waving as you walked away, you turned back and held your cold hands to your cheeks. While you had only ever truly spoken to Semi once, it was still just as nerve-wracking to speak with him directly behind you. 

        As you left down the hall, you failed to notice the three pairs of eyes on you: one indifferent, one cocky, and one… abnormally bright.

                                ~~~

        Sitting in one of two main rocking chairs of the school’s library, you were even more nervous than usual when Ushijima approached you, arriving right on time while you had chosen to roll in twenty minutes ahead of schedule. The teachers you had talked to said they would release their students at 12:30 to the library, giving the pair of you thirty minutes to choose a story and hope it would keep their attention. 

        “Hey,” you greeted your project partner, observing as he took the seat next to you. 

        “Hello,” he responded bluntly, sitting uncomfortably stiff in his chair as it began to rock on its own. The conversation seemed to have hit a dead end; that is, until you remembered something. 

        “Oh, what fairy tale did you want to read to the kids?” you asked him, standing up and approaching the section of the library evidently labeled “Fables.” While waiting for his response, you chose to busy yourself by checking out the many options available on the shelves. 

        “Preferably a calm one. Maybe… without princesses?” For the first time in your whole life, Ushijima sounded unsure of himself, almost as if fairy tales were unknown territory to him.

        You grew confused. “Well then, what’s your favorite one from when you were a kid?”

        “I never really read fairy tales as a child. Though I do remember hearing about one that does pique my interest.” You stopped and stared at your partner in bewilderment at the first half of his statement, and a frown stole the place of your smile at the confession. Who’s never read fairy tales as a kid? What a sad childhood that must have been, you thought to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief. 

        “I’m so sorry, but fairy tales are great, you should read some when you have the chance! Some are a little more sinister than others if you read from certain authors, l-like Cinderella! In the original, the stepsisters like cut off parts of their own feet, but-,” you cut yourself off, surprised at your own word vomit. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling.” Your jaw almost dropped when Ushijima, the Ushijima, brandished you a small hint of a smile, the corners of his lips slightly upturned. 

        “It’s okay, I like hearing about them. Maybe not those kinds of scenes but…” his deep voice trailed off and he gestured for you to continue. Quickly, you changed the subject and looked away to avoid making contact with his sharp, olive-colored orbs. You knew that if you had kept staring, a blush would’ve been inevitable. 

        “Umm, okay, that’s cool,” you mumbled out. “Anyways, you were saying one piqued your interest. Which one?”

        His eyes seemed to glimmer at the mention of his evidently beguiling fable, and he announced, “‘Little Red Riding Hood.’ That’s the one that has always interested me. Although I hear there are many different versions of this one, so I fear I might not be thinking of the right story for the kids. What do you think?”

        You shake your head and say, “No, no, no. That is a good one, but what happened in the version your thinking of that's got you so interested in it?”

        “Well, in the one I’ve heard about, the wolf and Little Red Riding Hood-” Ushijima is cut off by the sudden chatter of young children entering the room. Eyes widening in surprise, you check the time, only to be confused when you realize that they are a few minutes early. A teacher stumbles over to Ushijima and hurriedly explains that the kids had finished their music class ahead of schedule, so the reading would need to start prematurely.

        Hastily, you wrack your mind for the author’s name of the age-appropriate Little Red Riding Hood story and “Aha” victoriously as your eyes spot the book you were looking for. Retrieving it from the shelf, you strut over to your project partner with the slim picture book in hand, motioning for him to join you in front of the twenty-something group of elementary schoolers in your two given rocking chairs. 

        You give him a small, reassuring smile before you announce, “Hey kids, my name is YN YLN and this is Wakatoshi Ushijima and today we will be reading ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ to you guys!” Attempting to keep your voice cheerful, you are relieved when the children respond positively instead of groaning like you had expected. Spotting your little cousin in the front row of the class, you return her excited wave softly and accompany it with a large grin. Winking at Ushijima, you don’t have time to question your cheeky action before you hand him the book, allowing him to start reading his coveted fairy tale. 

                                ~~~

        As more time passes, you start to realize Ushijima is growing more and more confused with his fable. After you close the book with the classic “Happy Ever After,” you throw him a confused smile as the class of children shout a loud, rambunctious “Thank you!” Before you can question him, however, your younger cousin approaches and gives you a large hug.

        “N/N, that was so fun! I wish you would read to our class more! Can you please read to our class more?” Her voice began to transition from begging to whining, and you started to panic internally while wondering how to handle the situation. After all, you had only babysat her once before, and that night, you had done just about anything to get her to stop crying. 

        You were fearing the same result when, thankfully, her teacher came to the rescue, telling her that she needed to rejoin the class. Grumbling under her breath, your cousin gave you one last hug while glancing at Ushijima, who had been awkwardly watching the encounter from his chair. Looking away with fear, your cousin hesitantly whispered, “N/N, your boyfriend is scary.” Your cousin’s teacher was quick to usher her out of the library before you could explain that, no, the scary man was not your boyfriend, and please don’t tell the rest of the family as they will flip.

        Sighing in exasperation, you whip around and give Ushijima a shy smile and laugh before saying, “Sorry about her, she just assumed, I’ll tell her later. If she doesn’t forget by then.”

        Ushijima ignores your lame joke while responding, “That’s okay, I didn’t mind.” Hearing those words, you flush slightly and wonder if he meant it how it sounded. 

        Rapidly changing the subject, you asked him why he seemed so confused while reading the ‘Red Riding Hood’ fairy tale.

        “Well,” he admitted, “In the one I’ve always heard about, the wolf and Little Red Riding Hood fall in love, and the wolf is actually just a kind werewolf who looks scary most of the time. And Little Red Riding Hood isn’t a little girl, but an adult just like him, who ignores his flaws….” Ushijima trails off and he looks away as he begins to blush as well. Your eyebrows raise softly at his unexpectedly sheepish admission, and you smile widely. 

        “You know, if you wanted a story like that, we could always read ‘Beauty and the Beast.’ That one’s pretty much on the track you’re looking for,” You tell him, grin not stopping for an instant. 

        “We?” he asks gently and you almost choke on the oxygen in your lungs. 

        “You! You! I meant you. You could always… read it on your own, not we.” You fail to miss the way the smug glimmer in his eyes falls, and you smirk while lightly suggesting, “Unless you do want us to read it?” 

        With that, Ushijima seems to gain his confidence back, only for it to drop once more when he mutters, “I couldn’t do that. We shouldn’t do that.”

        Bewildered by his sudden change in attitude towards you, you quickly question, “Why?”

        “Because.”

        “Because?”

        “Because I’ve seen you around Semi, and I… I don’t want to ruin whatever you guys may have,” Ushijima admits, his hands subconsciously curling into fists. While watching this, your eyes widen in realization and you wonder to yourself, Am I really that obvious? Shaking away the thought, you quickly grab the man’s hand and unfurl it, holding it in both of yours while looking him in the eyes.

        “I’ll admit, before today, I did like Semi, but for appearances only! I’ve never even talked to him. Well, only once, but that was because he helped me pick up my books when I dropped them, tripping over God knows what-,” you cut off your own rambling once again, and wonder to yourself why you do that so often, especially in his presence. “Either way, my crush on him is purely visual, if that’s what you want to call it. Now... well, I’m really hoping we get a chance to read ‘Beauty and the Beast’ together. Or at least watch the movie…?” you trail off suggestively, timidly awaiting his response. 

        Ushijima is silent for a moment, and you begin to lose your confidence, loosening your grip on his hand, but he quickly grasps both of yours once more in an instant. 

        “I’d like that. A lot.”

                                ~~~

        Glancing at the clock on the gym wall, you groan and look back to the court while whining, “Wakatoshi, come on. We’re gonna miss the movie.” You bounce up and down on your toes impatiently, watching your boyfriend once again spike the ball so hard into the floor on the other side of the court that it bounces up and lands in the stands. At least I don’t flinch at the sound anymore, you thought, watching Goshiki grumble under his breath before racing up the stairs to retrieve yet another volleyball. 

        “Sorry, babe, just one more I promise,” the ace replies distractedly.  

        “Babe, huh?” Tendou asks, wiggling his eyebrows. “You guys must be getting serious. Who’d have thought Mr. Scary, Blank-Face Man would get a girlfriend, and call her ‘babe’ nonetheless!” The redhead laughs to himself loudly and cheekily elbows Shirabu in the side, who responds by shooing his hands away in irritation.

        Ignoring his teammate’s taunts, Ushijima tosses up the ball again to Semi, who sets it perfectly in place for his favorite spike. The ball hits the other half of the court so harshly you’re surprised it doesn’t pop from the pressure. Following as it travels once more into the public seating on the second level of the gym, your amazed expression drops in exchange for amusement. Everyone witnesses as it rebounds back down onto the court as a result of the ball hitting a chair. 

        “Thank God,” Goshiki mutters, dropping the first ball he got into the basket and picking up the second one just as it rolled over to him. “I am so tired of this job,” he tells you, and you giggle at his worn out expression. 

        Noticing this, Ushijima jogs over to you and swiftly kisses your cheek, giving a pointed look to the first year before packing up his gear. You roll your eyes at his possessive action and decide to help the boys clean up while waiting for your boyfriend. Just as you reach for a stray volleyball, another hand plucks it away. You glance up and smile politely at Semi while jokingly claiming, “That one was mine, you know.” 

        The blonde third year blushes at your quip, chuckling slightly before replying, “Sorry, I didn’t know you claimed it. You still want it?” He teasingly holds it out to you, but the ball is stolen out of his grip by one stronger, larger hand. 

        Looking up slowly, Semi shivers at the glare he receives from Ushijima who smoothly throws the ball into the basket behind his teammate. “Actually, it was mine.” 

        Scoffing and smirking at your boyfriend’s jealous tone, you grab his now empty hand and say, “Don’t get all pissy, let’s just go before we miss the whole movie.” As the two of you walk through the gym doors, you look over to see Ushijima glaring back at his poor teammate, who keeps his wide, brown orbs locked on the ground to avoid the ace’s wrathful gaze. You roll your eyes once more before pulling his face toward yours. The intimate act successfully captures his attention, and you playfully whisper, “You’re really hot when you’re mad. I like it.”

        Raising his brows, Ushijima’s deep voice teased, “Oh really? Well then maybe we should skip the movie altogether.” 

        You smile flirtatiously at him while biting your lip. “I like that idea. Maybe we could just talk all night long.” 

        “Sounds good, because I’m still confused as to why the little girl didn’t notice her grandmother was actually a wolf. Was she nearsighted?” You groan at his innocent change of the subject.

        “Are you serious? I’ve told you a thousand times, she was just a little girl who didn’t notice for the sake of the story!” 

        “I would’ve noticed if my grandmother was a wolf.”

        “I know, I know, ‘cause nothing flies past you, except for every single joke ever.”

        “Impossible… jokes do not fly.” 

        Your whine of exasperation fades into the night as the two of you walk home to discuss fairy tales. 

In the Black Widow’s Nest (Henry Creel x Reader) 🕷️Chapter 2🕷️

*GIF not mine*

Summary:

Prince Henry of the Creel Dynasty is finally in search of a wife, and in the spirit of courtship, King Victor has invited young royalty from all neighboring kingdoms to vie for his hand. But with so much royalty introduces the need for many more maids in the castle than usual.

Enter: You.

You’re nothing but a servant in his home, an intruder in his prized library, and an utter nuisance in his mind. But then you survive his attack, and in an unexpected way nonetheless. That makes you… interesting.

You’ve caught his eye—congratulations! Now, you must deal with the consequences of loving a heartless prince in a world where far worse things lurk in the castle than dirty garderobes.

Chapter 1

A/N: yay, another chapter! and not a million bajillion months later, either, aren’t u guys lucky? I worked hard on this one! Let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy!

Word count: 4809

The maids of the castle did not have an organized way of awakening. The first one to rise from her cot never rang a bell, nor did she make a sound as she bumbled about the room. The others simply roused at her activity and moved to follow her lead. A soft ray of warmth would peek through window curtains, illuminating the rumpled sheets and the scuffling shoes as the ladies donned their uniforms: white pinafores over black smocks, black sleeves down to the wrists with white cuffs, white bows, black slippers.

A light chatter had begun after one maid, a new recruit hired for the season, had asked another for assistance in tying the pinafore’s bow at her back. By the time the bow was finished, the rest of the room had followed suit. Conversations erupted, and some of the more experienced women had taken to helping the newcomers with their garments. When one began to brush her own hair, so did another. When one adjusted the strap on her own shoe, so did another.

They moved as one body and looked as one body, as was expected of them. None dared to lose their opportunity to work with the castle's wages and living, especially during such a season.

The prince of the Creel Dynasty was finally searching for a wife.

The kingdom had long awaited this announcement from the handsome young heir. In preparation for the many balls, galas, and other festivities promised by this news, the castle staff had welcomed a myriad of new members, all of whom had to be trained before the kingdom could host any visiting royalty.

The maids, therefore, had the strictest schedules and regimens. The nature of their duties made it most plausible to come in contact with a royal, and such required a level of propriety unobserved by them in their previous homes.

But a new fear had struck the collective consciousness of the trainees.

One that made the threat of interacting with royals all the more potent.

You rose from your cot at the tap of the girl beside you. A fierce spasming fired along your spine, where your new wounds must have reopened from the movement.

Briefly, you considered lying back down, letting your headache swallow you whole. Considered Miss Miriam, in a devilish state, screaming at you, dismissing you, dragging you out of the castle. Crawling back home with no money, nothing to show for your promises of dragging them out of the village and whisking them away to a life of less hell. You consider coming out of the castle like you came in. Still nothing. Having nothing.

But a pretty sight struck you—Miss Miriam, with her crop, coming up behind you, and you, twisting and grabbing her by her gray hair, shoving her face into a used chamber pot.

Then swatting the old harpy with her own weapon.

A smile split your face, causing the bruise on your cheek to throb.

One day.

But until that day, you were stuck here under the shameless eyes of your own fellow maids. The show Miss Miriam had put on for the others was one that must be burned into the backs of their eyelids, because the maids did one of two things.

They watched you, or they blinked.

You folded in on yourself, turning away and grasping your uniform tucked neatly beneath your bed. When you rose back up and reached for the hem of your nightdress, you hesitated.

The gazes were so heavy you could drown. Even now, you could feel the oozing blood sticking to the thick fabric. However prominent the bruise on your face was nothing compared to artwork that mangled your back; something was peeling, another splitting, and much was bleeding. It was all one collective wound, one scab healing so slowly that any movement you made renewed the process.

You did everything quickly and quietly. You tore off your dress, peeling off fresh skin with it, and stretched the other one over your head, thankful the black smock wouldn’t stain so evidently. The gasps didn’t slow you down. You tugged on your shoes and straightened your sleeves. You whisked your hair out of your face as you worked, tightening and adjusting and grimacing your way through it.

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. You were surprised you had any left after last night—your own tongue sat as dry as a rock in your mouth. How could there be more?

But they sprang forth when you pulled the pinafore over your sleeves and realized you couldn’t tie the bow yourself. Not as tightly as it should be. Your own body wouldn’t let you do such a thing to your wound.

You needed help. Would any of them be willing to even speak to you? To be seen associating with the first pariah of the group?

You couldn’t imagine yourself doing it. Self-preservation was at an all-time high after your public whipping. Would anyone even believe that you hadn’t wanted any of this? That you hadn’t been a crown-hunting girl begging for trouble? That something bordering on preternatural had invaded your mind and drowned out your senses, and all you could do was cling onto another human as you grappled for reality—who gave a damn if the man just happened to be Prince Henry, the one person women in all the known kingdoms were trying to obtain?

No.

No one would believe you.

Dear God, you sounded deranged. One step away from fleeing into the woods waving sticks and crying demon at every creature you crossed.

The church bells, of all things, being the sounds you’d heard when your own life was slipping away before your eyes. You may as well hang yourself right now, if the king couldn’t decree it any faster.

You dropped the two fabric strings of the pinafore with a muffled snivel, cupping your bruised cheek and letting your eyes fall closed.

Three months. Just three months to shed the new label and secure yourself a permanent position in the castle. Real servants’ lodgings, proper pay, daily meals. You could live the rest of your life not acknowledged by another soul if you could just stay here, safe and content and unheeded.

What more could a person want out of life?

A gentle touch at your shoulder blade drew your attention, and you flinched away before it got any closer to your injuries. You spun around and bumped into your cot, eyeing the other maid warily. Her gaze was kind and bordered on innocent, vibrant blue barely peeking out from behind a wall of curly brown hair. She looked about your age, and at first glance, you would never notice the proud, acute way she held herself.

Like she always knew what she was doing, and yet always knew too much.

And when she offered her hands like a sign of peace, you did not try to back away again. Far be it from you to reject the first kindness you had experienced since you had arrived here.

“I can tie your bow, if you like?”

That same accent, unrefined when compared to what usually bounced off the gilded walls, and you surmise that she must have come from another small village like yours. Unlike you, however, she seemed to have less fear when navigating through unfamiliarities like castles and cruel maids.

Why else would she bother offering the one persona non grata a helping hand?

You pause at her offer, gnawing on your lip as though you had other options to consider. Perhaps there was some ill intent to her aid, but even if there was, you couldn’t figure out what and why and why bother.

“Yes…” you swallowed. “Please.”

She smiled gently and gestured for you to turn around. When her hands tied the bow, it was all light fingers and quiet conversations.

Her name was Nancy, and you learned she had come from the village next to yours. When she couldn’t get a job working for a seamstress, she wound up as something of a governess in the kingdom’s walls, traversing back and forth between her home and those of higher standings nearer to the castle. She was good at watching children, but the castle was offering far more than royalty’s butlers and vicars could afford.

And she was also very sorry for you. What happened yesterday was hard to watch.

You asked her to tighten the bow, dismissing her small hum of concern, and swallowed the bile that rose when the pinafore dug securely into the gashes of your back.

You both knew she had been fixing to leave it loose, letting you decide if the risk of an untidy uniform was worth the comfort.

It wasn’t.

The other maids, it seemed, had grown uninterested the second your wounds were covered for what would be the remainder of the day, and returned to normal conversation. Few glances were thrown your way since Nancy had tied your bow, and you noticed yet another phenomenon.

Caught up in a sea of black and white, the only difference between you and Nancy, between any one maid and another, was her hair. Brunette and blond hair intermixed with black and ginger, all blended seamlessly when plaited or swept up into a bun.

Yours hung loose and knotted down your back, and without a word, Nancy began to wisp the tendrils into a braid. You wanted to stop her, but you couldn’t. Your own arms could barely raise as high as your heart, and your hands shook the second they entered your vision, lifted to stop Nancy’s at your nape.

“There,” she murmured, dismissing your thanks, “now you really blend in. By tonight, the others won’t even remember which bed you’re in.”

“Should I be concerned they know that now?”

She laughed softly. “I suppose not, although I have overheard a few girls bitter about you being with a royal.”

You blanched. “What? That’s what they’re focused on?”

Maybe… maybe you should have guessed some of them might focus on that fact. But look where it got you, and you hadn’t even been trying.

Properly flogged, and now in the sights of one Miss Miriam.

Nancy shrugs. “Just a few. Most have been scared for you. But,” she pauses, pursing her lips, “you must understand that we’re… thankful, in a cruel way.”

Of course. You could understand that.

It terrified you, angered you to no end, but you understood it. Someone had to be a lesson for the others. A demonstration. The new maids needed a spectacle to understand where the power lied—that power did not lie solely within royalty. There were pockets of it left scattered throughout the castle, and cruel-enough servants snatched it up whenever possible, and lorded it over whoever would listen.

But… you wanted to cry at the unfairness of it all. You never thought it would be you.

The collective consciousness reigned over the servants once more, and they began to line up. You spotted a girl, younger-looking than most, step away from the door, and guessed she must have heard footsteps. Nancy nodded at you before joining a line, and you followed.

Like clockwork, the door slammed open, and Miss Miriam entered with a silencing swoosh of her black smock. When her second-in-command entered, goosebumps ran down your spine.

You could still feel yourself struggling in her arms, sobs wracking their way through you as she steadied your form for another lashing. Your heartbeat began thundering in your back, right underneath the bow of the pinafore.

“Ladies, today is a day of utmost importance.” With small, black eyes narrowed and surveying each and every young girl before her, Miss Miriam furrowed her brow and frowned, wrinkles tracing the expressions with ease. Her face pinched together so tightly it resembled a sun-dried grape. “The royal family will be welcoming four promising princesses today, and it will be your duty to clean every inch of the castle they will roam upon before they arrive. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Miss Miriam.”

“We will work as one. We will bow as one. We do everything as one, today and all days, ladies. Efficiently, and quietly.” Her eyes fell on you. “No one will cause trouble today. Understood?”

You gulped. The maids chimed together once more, and you could only mouth along with them.

“Yes, Miss Miriam.”

Her gaze left yours, and the tightening of your throat eased.

“Moira will delegate assignments. Those tidying halls will follow me.”

The hallways, all gilded columns and glistening marble, flared victoriously in the morning sun. Most aspects of the castle seemed to emphasize the Creel Monarchy’s pride, their devout sense of self-satisfaction the principal aspect of every painting, vase, and snuffed sconce.

A portrait of the long deceased King James, great-great-great-great grandfather to Prince Henry—though, you pondered calling the number of greats preceding his name into question (and the word great itself)—sneered down at you, seeming perpetually pleased to be two hundred years in the ground and still lording himself over every subject that roamed his halls.

Disdain for all others must have been passed down the family line religiously.

You dragged your eyes down and away, busying yourself instead with dusting the marbleized snoot of Julius Caesar. The crystalline windows of the castle acted like a magnifying glass against you as you worked, adding a heat to the already aching skin of your back. You were a cockroach wandering too close to a flame, and any second now you could burn up from the inside out, crushed with a crunch rather than a squelch.

Using the back of your hand, you wiped the sweat from your brow, eyes wandering dangerously to the maid who worked beside you.

Nancy, owning the more bearable appearance between the two of you, had been sent out to deliver and replace new bed sheets along with thirty other girls. But the girl beside you, taller and owning a mess of dirty blonde hair swept into an apathetic bun, had somewhat of the same spirit of Nancy. A small glimmer of rebellion shone in her eyes each time Miss Miriam wandered far enough down the glittering hallway so as to only be seen by squinting.

Then, with a wry twitch of her freckled face, she’d rasp five blasphemies she’d decided described the witch in that moment.

Musty shrew appeared to be a favorite.

The girl glanced up from where she had been polishing a rickety wooden chair and flashed you a smile, glancing each way before rising from her knees and approaching. She reached out and plopped the brush she had been using on the table holding the marble statue head, and plugged a finger into each of its ears.

“I don’t suppose Jesus here will strike me down for my profanity, will he?”

You looked down. Chiseled above its wrinkled forehead was a laurel crown, and you couldn’t recall a Bible passage describing Jesus’ sabbatical in Rome. You blinked at her.

“I’m pretty sure that’s Julius Caesar.”

The blonde glances at the statue again, gray eyes darting over it before she shrugs. “Same difference. If there is a sculpture of Jesus somewhere in this castle, I have no doubt he’s going to receive the same mouthful of feathers you’re forcing on poor Caesar here.”

“Only if Miss Miriam deems it so.” You nodded your head in the skeletal maid’s direction. “Her words are as good as gospel, after all.”

“And yet, each time she speaks, I feel like I’m taking orders from Satan.”

You let out a ghost of a laugh, biting your tongue when your wounds contract and throb.

Her face splits into a smile, and she lets out a short laugh too. Something flits along her face, though, and you get the sense you didn’t hide your pain well enough. The subject is easily danced around; the maid releases her grip on the statue and instead grasps her skirt, lowering into a teasing curtsy. “The name is Robin, milady.” Her eyelashes flutter rapidly and she waggles her fingers in the air, perfectly, in your opinion, mimicking the interactions between royalty that you’ve seen thus far. Haughty, majestic, and filled with intentions barely skin-deep.

You do the same.

She lets your name roll off her tongue a few times, letting it thud against the crisp white walls in her hoarse tone before saying decidedly, “Very fitting.”

Before long, Miss Miriam decides the hallway is clean enough and herds all the maids, the vast majority of them being newcomers like you, out and away into the next wing.

A chill wracks through you when the word “residential” gets passed down the line of one hundred girls, followed by “prince” and “bedroom” and “handsome.” You scan the white, stone columns as you pass, watching them curve into elegant archways shadowed through the frosted windows. This wing is covered in significantly less dust, and a faint scent of roses and pines floats in the air.

You try to flood out the memories, thinking vigorously about the red carpet before you, the soft slap of two hundred clogs, small shuffles and whispers. Everything around you you swallow up whole, eyes wide as though it will help you take in everything and think about nothing. But you cannot avoid it for long; not when you pass by the entrance to the royal throne room, in all its scintillating enormity, golden thrones set with silk, inlaid with gemstones, all wide open spaces.

And hovering above all four was a single, large oil portrait of the living Creel sovereigns.

King Victor, with his light blue eyes caving underneath the lustrous crown, crisp white beard neatly trimmed. His hand hovered over his wife’s shoulder, smile thin and pale.

Queen Virginia, known for her devout faith and kindness, her amber hair falling in ringlets down to her sides. She sat prim and proper on a ruby-cushioned chair, hands folded prettily, eyes dim.

Princess Alice, the spitting image of her mother, bar her father’s eyes and the last twenty years. Second only to her brother in terms of popularity in the kingdom and out, something distinctly complacent set her brows in such a way you knew instantly why she was desirable to royals and dodged by anyone below them.

And then him.

A part of you hadn’t believed Miss Miriam when she’d called him so.

Your Highness.

But as you looked at him now, standing taller than the rest of his blood, proud and ramrod straight, broad shoulders held back by an invisible force, you knew the portraitist had gotten something wrong.

The hair was right; the golden crown of tousled waves, parted neatly and befitting him far more than any scrap of the earth. The lips, pink and pronounced, and the softness of his brow, and, of course, his posture. All perfect.

But it wasn’t Prince Henry. Not quite.

The eyes. Slate blue and cold, cold, cold. How could the artist have not seen that?

Instead, they were warm and too dark a blue. Almost navy, and gentle, and so soft he almost looked like he was frozen in a smile.

No, no. That wasn’t the Prince Henry you had seen.

Where was the darkness? The cruelty? The evil that shadowed every inch of him?

This was some sterilized version of the crown prince, some unattainable, unreliable, utterly purified visage of him being displayed to the kingdoms in pastime.

He radiated divinity, in and out of the portrait. But without that quality of his that effused danger so potently, you could not help but feel the kingdoms were being sold a lie.

The nervous hiss of your name and a strong grip rattling at your wrist spared you from Prince Henry’s trance once more.

Too much power, he had. Too much… something.

“I get it,” Robin whispered, eyes flitting back and forth as the herd marched on, “completely, I understand. But, you cannot just stand and stare at royalty all day. That’s kind of how you…” she gnawed at the inside of her cheek, “you know, got into your situation in the first place. I’d hate to think what Miss Mule would do if she caught you with a Creel of all people.”

You hesitate to tell her that it was, in fact, a Creel that had gotten you in this position. But if Miss Miriam had decided to hide that information from others, you could only guess there was some merit to hiding that you’d thrown your arms around a prince that was already in high demand.

You had wound up committing one of the worst possible treasons with the worst possible man. You supposed it was quite like learning to swim a day prior and diving into a deep lake the very next day—you’d hit rock-bottom, and you’d only just begun.

To think you shouldn’t already be swinging by your neck right now, face blue and tongue swollen, had the head maid hoarded some minute amount of mercy for you.

That, or she’d known your actions had no great impact upon the integrity of the prince’s pursuits—whether it be accidental or otherwise, Miss Miriam viewed yesterday’s nightmare as a tragic attempt to escape your fate, some sick wishing turned to action wherein you wooed the prince and thus he would marry you.

Of all people. You.

You could retch at the thought.

You’d been raised proper, your parents teaching you well about respect, understanding who deserved it and who did not. They had also taught you that people could be born deserving respect, that it was some inherent betterness of their circumstances that, in turn, warranted curtsies and bowed heads.

Which, in your humble opinion, seemed utter tosh, but so be it. For now, you had a head on your shoulders, feasted somewhat regularly, and slept in warmth. Your clothing had not been sewn by your own hands, and your family was receiving enough coins to not worry about your wellbeing.

No matter that they probably should.

Far be it from you to look gift horses in their mouths, but you felt yourself afforded a nice level of circumspection after your back had been torn to ribbons for a mishap over which you had no control.

You didn’t want to marry the prince. You didn’t want to touch him, and you didn’t want to think about him. And, ignoring all the memories of his larger hands, his blue gaze, his golden strands, and how he may haunt you for years to come, you were quite certain you never wanted to see Prince Henry ever again.

Your back twinged in agreement.

The multitude of fluttering pinafores ahead of you slowed their swishing. Clomping clogs eased into a gentle tapping and finally stopped, and the movements were imparted upon the rest of the maids. A smaller form bumped into your back, and you flinched away, spinning and biting back a cry.

A maid a few years younger than you gaped her mouth, innocence and fear mingling in her expression as brown curls fell over her brow. She seemed so much smaller than the others, more unwitting. Your eyes fell to her hand, a clenched fist in the creases of your skirt, as it hesitatingly fell away.

More distanced shuffling disseminated down the corridor, and you watched the assorted heads of hair in front of you split and separate, clinging to either wall, leaving a wide breadth of distance for someone to pass through. Sunlight filtered between the silent shadows of maids and formed a golden glow of a path.

You followed the others and split off to one side, opposite a window, and grasped blindly for Robin’s hand when she didn’t move to follow. A gentle tug at the fabric of your backside conveyed that the other, younger maid had restored her grip.

From your position, the sun blinded you heavily, and you squinted as a yellow shine overtook everything you saw. White spots splattered your vision when you blinked, but you looked past the maids anyway, curiosity jostling its way down the two lines.

“Your Highness.”

So far ahead, you couldn’t see and only heard Miss Miriam and her staunch and clear-cut announcement. That same loyal tone, somewhat saccharine, frayed your nerves in a second.

The prince?

Curtsies flowed like a wave through the maids, and when you bent low, head bowed, Robin and the young maid followed on either side of you, just as gawky. Nobody rose, and, per Miss Miriam’s orders, nobody would rise until the royalty had passed.

But… dear God, wasn’t it an awful affair that you could tell who it was without even looking? That you could feel a quiet sizzle over the rows of women and girls alike, heard the soft, prideful gait of his finely polished boots.

Back in your village, you’d hated how slowly people could walk. How they’d force you to flounder behind them as they puttered, how they could wander one way and then the other, each footstep a guess. Like they had all the time in the world.

You never would have guessed that a fast pace could be just as troubling. Like he couldn’t stand to be in the same corridor with so many servants, Prince Henry was a brisk wind over the ruby carpets. Even so, you could feel the rise and fall of elation, soft gasps partnered with perfectly timed peeks.

He was a sight to behold—that much had been imprinted on your mind. But he couldn’t possibly be as rumpled as he’d been in the depths of the frosty library, hair thoroughly rakish, white tunic clinging to his golden skin. No; royals held a certain standard of propriety, even as they indulged in the most hedonistic of lifestyles. He must be sheathed in some proper velvet tailcoat, and his face must be severe and sharp, slicing along everything he saw.

Breathtaking in an entirely different way, you were sure.

No, you didn’t look. You couldn’t. You can’t.

Not even as his footsteps approach.

You focus your gaze on your swinging braids, watching them refuse to settle against some unknown breeze. A strain forms in your knuckles with how hard you grip your skirt, and your spine throbs with each heartbeat against the tightened back of your uniform.

Prince Henry slows.

The atmosphere tightens around your little grouping of maids, sun soaking into your black clothing so heavily you can barely breathe.  

We must be in front of a door, some corner he needs to turn to. Something.

Some disturbed pulsing blossoms in your gut when he stops just before you, black boots just inches away. Lithe fingers laden with metal rings hover in your vision.

Prince Henry’s too close all over again.

You want to cry out; you want to say nothing and everything. You want to sink into the furthest recesses of your home miles away just as much as you want to stand at the top of a hill and hold your arms out, waiting for it all.  

Your heart is racing—wild, damned little thing. An insufferable hypocrite after all the ways it had condemned him yesterday for what had happened.

Fingertips, gentle and soft as a single breath, rise and brush over your flaming cheekbone.

A tingle of pain jolts through the bruise so suddenly you flinch away, followed by an indifferent grunt that hangs in the air.

No pity in the sound. No remorse. Barely a hint of acknowledgment.

You want to cradle your cheek and press, hard, at the bridge of your nose, will those wobbling tears to stop. His hand hovers again, twitches near, and, when you lean some scant distance away, falls back to his side.

Within that same second, the boots that hadn’t even turned toward you stalk away. Still fast and proud, no more slows and stops. No more grunts.

But, without a doubt, it was Prince Henry. You’d peeked as the other maids had peeked.

You’d done all that they had done, yet you knew that single touch had doomed you.

That must have been his game. A nice bit of teasing for the maid who'd embraced him; let her be thoroughly beaten down to her station. It was some cruel recognition of what happened to you, some silent sanctioning of a proper punishment.  

Servant does a bad thing; servant gets punished by her peer.

Royal approves. No blood on his hands.

You were right, of course. That portrait was missing Prince Henry’s most vital characteristic: Wickedness.

When the maids rise from their curtsies, trembling thighs and huffed breaths, all eyes fall on you. A range of emotions bombard you before you can rub your cheek.

Wonder.

Awe.

Envy.

And—you can only assume from the thundering footsteps—Miss Miriam’s unparalleled rage.

Previous    Masterlist    Next

Gray Chains (Yandere Michael Gray x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Michael needs to see you. It’s been three days after being shot by Luca Changretta’s men, and he knows you need to see him too--especially since you’re chained up against his headboard for trying to escape from him too many times. 

A/N: I mean gotta admit I’m in a yandere Michael Gray kinda mood, and there’s only like two fics of that out there :( Gotta do whatcha gotta do ig. Enjoy!

Word count: 3068

        Polly’s grip on your wrist is so tight you can barely feel the tips of your bluing fingers. You’re used to such pain, though; underneath her hand are more permanent, more reddened markings from the handcuffs you had been wearing before Polly had found you.

        “We’re almost there,” she mumbled under her breath, head snapping back and forth every few minutes to search each room you passed. Your feet and calves ached from the pace she had set for the two of you, quick and impatient ever since you’d stepped out of Michael’s townhouse. You hadn’t moved this far, this fast for months. 

        Not since you first tried to escape Michael. 

        Even now, you couldn’t breathe. Every gasp of air was caught in your throat, choking you slowly while tasting of antiseptic. A sort of panic-stricken excitement ran through your body from being outside the gray walls of Michael’s home for the first time in who knew how long. 

        Just hours ago that was where you had been, one hand secured in a metal cuff that only reached as far as the bathroom, the other end of which was placed around Michael’s headboard. 

        You knew something had gone awry when Michael hadn’t returned home to deliver you your usual meal every six hours for a straight three days; when he hadn’t shyly knocked on the door to his own bedroom, a tray of homemade cooking in his hands and an innocent smile on his face; “I made you something, love.”

        Three straight days. Your stomach rumbled as a reminder even now. 

        “Speed up now, won’t you,” Polly ordered, still frantically pushing the pair of you past marble hallways filled with nurses and patients roaming. “The room is up here.”

        You’d given up asking what had happened to Michael. Polly was unresponsive to your every question, too focused on lugging you behind her to say anything else but “He’s been asking for you.”

        When you had first heard the door unlock to Michael’s house this morning, you had thought it was him. “Where the hell have you been?” you’d called, a disturbing hint of relief in your frustrated tone. If he was going to lock you up like an animal, you’d thought to yourself, he should at least have planned for times like this where he doesn’t show up for days. 

        But the second you heard the footsteps up the stairs sound lighter than normal, you sat up at attention in the bed, eyes locked on the doorway. Who…?

        Polly. Polly who had almost been hanged, who was now addicted to pills and thought she could see spirits, who was a strong, capable woman that defended others and cared deeply for her family. This was how Michael described his mother to you. He’d wanted you to meet her so badly, but only when you were ready--complaisant was what he really meant. 

        “You must be YN,” she’d said breathlessly, pausing only a second to study your situation. 

        You swallowed, unmoving from your spot on the bed. “Yes.” She was the first person you’d seen for so long aside from Michael. 

        Then she produced a key from the pocket of her coat and approached you swiftly. 

        “Yes, yes--please,” you held up your cuffed hand before her, eyes watering with relief, “please, you must get me out of here. He’s kept me here so long.” Finally, someone had come to save you, you thought. You were leaving this place forever.

        When that small voice in the back of your mind whispered, “What about Michael?” you ignored it.

        The metal chains had hit the floor with soft clangs, and she’d pocketed the key once again. You remembered rubbing a hand over the sore skin of your wrist, eyes wide with wonderment at the sight of your hand unaccompanied by gray metal. 

        Then Polly’s hand replaced your own, tight and unforgiving as she tugged at your arm. “Come along now,” she ushered you out of the house, you willingly following her like a ragdoll. “He wants to see you.”

        “What?” That’s not what you had expected her to say. 

        “He’s been asking for you.”

        You never bothered to ask who. After all, you should have never thought Michael’s mother had come to save you. 

        Gangsters, you told yourself. Criminal scum, the lot of them. You should have never taken a walk down the streets of Birmingham, and you should have never smiled at Michael Gray. 

        “They’re asleep, fuckin’ lazy scumbags,” Polly spat, slowing her pace when she caught sight of one of the larger hospital rooms. She didn’t let up on your wrist but instead pushed you into the room first before following.

        Michael. 

        What happened to him?

        Half of his upper body was wrapped in white surgical tape, while the other half was blanched enough to rival the tape’s color. His eyes were closed, puffy and rimmed with dark circles that hung over prominent cheekbones like upended crescent moons. His pale, chapped lips were held in a thin line that twitched at the new, noisier presences in the room.

        A shiver traveled down your spine at the sight of him in such a way, and suddenly your hands trembled at your sides. You couldn’t feel the pain in your wrist anymore. 

        “On your feet,” you heard behind you. A few moments, and some rustling. “Wait outside.”

        The door clicked behind you, then it clicked again. Locked. Polly came up from behind you a second later, ignoring your presence completely as she set two flasks of alcohol on the table of Michael’s hospital bed before pulling up a chair beside him. 

        Tugging off her coat, she moved to lay it over Michael’s legs until he spoke. 

        “Mum,” he mumbled blindly, his voice raw and strained from lack of use. 

        “Michael,” Polly cooed then, leaning in closer over him to dab his face with a rag. He was so broken that moving his lips to talk was strenuous enough to break a sweat. Even his fingers twitched slowly, weakly. You’d never seen him so frail and battered.

        Your heart stuttered in an unsettling way. 

        “Is she-”

        “Don’t move.” She soaked up the perspiration on his brow next, humming warningly. “You took four bullets.”

        “But-”

        “She’s here--the girl. I brought her like you asked.” Polly didn’t spare you a glance, not that you noticed. You were frozen in place, gaze still wandering over each wrap on his body. One, two, three, four bullets. He’s still alive. He’s still alive. 

        “YN,” he murmured, eyes opening a sliver. “YN. You’re here.” 

        You took a step toward him instinctively, hand raising from your side, before realizing your mistake and steadying yourself in place. 

        A smile tugged at his lips, paining him somewhat but not stopping him. He moved to sit up, to reach out for you as well, but a groan forced its way from him when he tried. With furrowed brows, he sucked a breath through his teeth and clenched his eyes shut. 

        Polly inhaled all the meanwhile, hovering her hands over his form to stop him from moving any more. “What did I tell you? Lie back.”

        “YN, please, come closer, love.”

        Polly turned her gaze towards you, accusatory. “Come!” she ordered, gesturing with her head to Michael’s other side. Her gaze fell back on him again when you drew closer to the bed, and her hard face softened. 

        Even with eyes struggling to stay open, Michael’s stare was adoring upon you. Like always, he stared at you as though you’d hung the moon and stars in the sky. You’d been under that loving, worshiping gaze for months now. Even now, it placed such a heavy weight on your chest that you found yourself stumbling closer, only flinching away when your fingertips made contact with his arm. 

        He drew you in like a moth to a flame ever since you first met. Only after he’d locked you up in his house did your feelings for him leave a disgusting taste on your tongue. 

        You stayed a few inches apart from him, ignoring how his hand struggled at his side to reach for you. 

        “Love, please. I want to feel you. I need to know you’re really here.”

        Two pairs of eyes were on you then. Polly’s glared like a coiled snake, and Michael’s pleaded like a puppy dog.

        You edged closer, letting your hand drop on top of his. Quickly, Michael maneuvered your fingers to interlock with his, and he sighed in relief. You forced your attention away from the warmth spreading in the center of your chest and onto Polly, who dug through her bag. 

        “I’ve missed you so much, love.” His thumb ran over your knuckles. “I was so afraid I’d never get to see you again. I was so scared I was never going to hold you again.”

        His words wrapped around you like a weighted blanket, heavy and overbearing yet warm and comforting. You wanted to throw up.

        “Michael,” Polly gathered his attention somehow, pulling his face toward hers as she laid out a pamphlet on his bedside. Australia, it read. “Please listen. John’s dead, and this whole town’s fucked. We need to get out of here.”

        “No,” he grunted, hand squeezing yours.

        She rolled her eyes. “You can take the girl. Just listen--there’s no mafia, no fucking American gangsters in Australia. Now, the doctor said you can walk in five weeks, and the boat leaves February thirteenth. That gives us plenty of time.”

        Five weeks. You glanced at Michael’s form, practically curling in on itself in pain. It was only held together by stitches and strips of cloth. He wouldn’t be out of the hospital for months, even if he could walk. 

        “We’re not going anywhere, Mum.”

        But you could. How could he possibly come after you, stuck here like a mummified corpse with four bullet holes in it. Without him to lock you up in his house, to tie you down and feed you and hold you, you could escape him easily. You would never have to see Michael again. 

        Your stomach growled, drawing Michael’s attention. His face fell into despair at the sound, and his eyes fluttered closed in regret. “YN, fuck, I’m so sorry. I never thought something like this would happen.”

        “Michael, please,” Polly begged, “we must go there and see your sister.”

        “Mum, later.” He looked back at you, face riddled with guilt. “Love, I’m sorry you were alone for so long.”

        “Michael-”

        “Mum!” His head snapped back to her, frustration barely concealed in his tone. “Please. Just go call Tommy and tell him to bring me a gun for the room. Business needs to be done first before we take any trips.”

        “Michael, it’s not safe. Not if we stay here. Tommy cannot protect us.”

        “Not if you don’t help him, Mum. Please,” he lay his other hand over the pamphlet, pursing his lips before pressing it closed once more in her grasp, “help Tommy first. Help the company first, then I promise we’ll board that train to Australia to go see Anna.”

        Tears began trailing down Polly’s face, and you glanced away out of courtesy. Michael was so different with his mother than he was with you. Around you, he treated you like you could do no wrong. Like you were the perfect woman, the perfect wife. Sometimes he held you as though you were made of glass, and other times he almost broke your ribs in his tight embraces. He’d whisper to you at night about how you were his greatest achievement, his greatest gift. 

        With his mother, now, he treated her as though she were a five-year-old in need of constant supervision and direction. Michael had vaguely told you about the situation with his mother, how he’d only first met her a couple years ago, but never much more than that. You had a feeling that if the Polly in front of you now were in any better shape, that same Polly that so clearly wanted you to act like a better girlfriend to her son and had dragged you down streets and through alleys just for him, then she would never give Michael’s orders a second thought. 

        Polly nodded, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks with gloved hands with a willing, yet trembling, smile. “Fine.” She rose to her feet, grasping her purse off the nightstand and shoving the pamphlet inside. “Fine. I’ll go see Tommy.”

        She moved to leave, snatching the two flasks off the table in the meantime, before she seemed to remember something. She turned back to Michael again, and her gaze flitted to yours once. 

        “The girl. I saw the state she was in, Michael.”

        He tensed, and as a result your hand twinged in pain. 

        “Do you want me to take her back to the house?”

        All of the tension left Michael’s body in a single sigh, and he shook his head once. “No,” he smiled softly, “I want YN to stay with me here.”

        She nodded slowly, eyes falling on you one final time before she disappeared out the door. When it clicked shut, Michael’s gaze latched onto you, half-lidded, exhausted, but still very much attentive to you.

        “You will, won’t you? Stay with me here, I mean?”

        Silence fell over the room. You stared down at the man who just days ago had towered over you on his own bed, hands and lips all over you, owning you. 

        “You know why I do this, love, don’t you?” he’d always say, lips running over the raw skin of your wrist, free of the cuff whenever he was present. “It’s because I need you.” Another kiss. “I will always need you.”

        Then you twisted your hand from his grasp, backing away from the bed with flared nostrils. “I,” you shook your head, “I don’t know.”

        “No, no, love, please, don’t do this to me.” Michael grunted and groaned as he fumbled against the sheets, body fighting against his urge to move. His arms raised slowly and weakly from his sides as if each had been strapped down with weights. When he reached out for you, the sweat on his wrinkled brow glistened in the sunlight. 

        “Don’t, please. I love you so much, love, don’t do this to me.”

        You wanted to argue with logic. You wanted to twist his words and say, well how could you do that to me for all that time, huh? How could you tell me you love me every day, knowing that the only reason I have to listen to you is because of the prison walls around me? If you really loved me, how could you do that to me?

        But you didn’t because--it seemed--he’d finally got what he’d wanted. Oh how you missed the days where he’d begged and pleaded with you to love him and understand him, and how you missed those times where you said you didn’t and that you hated him. And you missed when those words were the truth, because it meant he hadn’t beaten you into submission. 

        Yet.

        But he was winning, wasn’t he now?

        As he breathed faster and perspired harder and called your name louder, you rounded the bed, still just out of his grasp, before settling down into Polly’s former seat. 

        Right then, he quieted himself like a sated child sucking on a pacifier. 

        “Fine, then.” You spat, more angry at yourself than you could ever be at him--because look what you’d allowed him to do to you. “Fine, you fucking win.”

        He remained silent.

        “I’ll stay here with you. And five weeks from now, I’ll still fucking be here, helping you stand up and walk around. And then soon after we’ll go to fucking Australia with your mother. And then after that I’ll fucking follow you there too, won’t I?” You were disgusted with yourself, with the feelings he’d force-fed into you until they were all you wanted. 

        Then you grabbed his hand, still reaching for you from the side of the hospital bed, and intertwined your fingers. Perfect, you’d thought, a perfect fucking fit. 

        Michael pulled the pair of hands up to his lips, kissing along your knuckles and smiling all the while. “Thank you, love.” His lips trailed up your arm. “Thank you.” Kiss. “Thank you.” Kiss. “Thank you.” Kiss.

        He tugged you closer and closer still, waiting until you leant over him enough to pull your lips onto his. 

        You had lost this battle against your own feelings long before Polly had dragged you out of the house, you realized. It was long before the day he’d first missed his meal with you, and you knew it because instead of wondering if you were going to be fed by your captor, you wondered if the man you loved was ever going to come home to you again. 

        You also knew it when his lips separated from yours for a breath, and he wasn’t the only one who had chased for a second chance at the kiss. 

        “Stay with me always, love,” he mumbled against your lips. “I need you. I’ll always fucking need you.”

        “I know,” you leaned your forehead against his, running your fingertips over his lips, his cheek, his hair. 

        “I won’t ever leave you again, love. I promise.” His hands cupped your face, holding you in place just an inch away so you could feel his words on your lips. “I won’t ever let anyone take me away from you.”

        “I’ll hold you to that,” you murmured, tearing your gaze away from his to stare down at the tape lacing his battered form. You hovered a hand over the strips, wondering where each of the four bullet holes was. 

        “And nobody will take you from me,” he tapped your chin, pulling your attention back to his face, “right, love?”

        “Never, Michael.” You shook your head, nose brushing his. “Never.”

        “That’s right,” he hummed under his breath. “Never.”

Part 2

When He’s Your Fellow Actor (BNHA Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

Haikyuu!! Version

A/N: I swear to God, I just write stories with bullet points🤦‍♀️. It’s an addiction I only give into at 2 am tho, I promise…. Maybe 3. Or maybe 6 am when my family wakes up to go to work, idk!! I'M WORKING ON IT. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy these headcanons/mini reminder that I write for bnha cuz it’s been a fucking minute!

Word count: 1781

Bakugou Katsuki: 

The “Hero-Villain on the show but everyone ships them in real life” trope.

Bakugou’s the hero, but you’re the villain😯

In all honesty, you ship your characters together too, but Bakugou doesn’t get it. 

In an interview he did with you, he got so confused when the interviewer asked you both how you felt about it. 

“People are doing what?!”

He got a lil pissy about it. 

“You guys are calling that scene when she tried to throw me in a vat of acid our ‘first date’?!” 

While Bakugou just sits next to you in utter bewilderment, the attention shifts to you and you’re just like, “Yeah, I think they’re cute.” *shrugs*

*shrugs*

*SHRUGS*

Why the fuck were you shrugging?! THIS WAS FUCKING INSANE!!

Bakugou is all angsty for the rest of the interview, and afterwards you two go to lunch (for the convenience of course).

He’s still watching you order with utter amazement and eventually you catch his drift. 

*sigh* “What’s wrong, Katsuki?” 

His lips twitch at the sound of his name, then he reels himself in. 

“Don’t *sigh* at me! What the fuck was that back there?”

You’re just sitting there like “TF??”

He rolls his eyes. “YN, you actually…” he locks his gaze on the floor. “You actually… like that stuff?”

You giggle and it pisses him off even more. “WHAT?!”

“Oh c’mon, Katsuki, you don’t think the two characters would even be a little cute together?”

…

“Fuck no.”

“Just think about it for a second.” 

He reluctantly does as you ask while you order for the two of you. (You always knew what he liked to eat.)

Bakugou stays unsettlingly silent for the rest of the lunch, tearing away bites of his burger with angry chomps.

It’s peaceful, much like it always is around you. Sometimes he likes that about y-

“OH MY GOD IT’S BAKUGOU KATSUKI AND YLN YN!” 

“I KNEW THEY WERE TOGETHER!” 

Bakugou almost flips out on the fans and their comments, so you quickly autograph whatever they threw on the table before ushering them away. 

You paid the bill and snatched up Bakugou’s hand, dragging him out of the restaurant before he could yeet a table or two. 

Days pass after you and Bakugou’s “date.” The pictures of you two at the restaurant spread like wildfire, but that’s not what peeved off Bakugou. 

No, it wasn’t that. 

It was the fanfiction he had found. 

People had not only written highly sensual acts between the two of your characters, but also between you two as real people. 

It was like people had no sense of privacy!

He almost couldn’t face you the next day after reading all of that. 

Oh yeah, he umm… he kinda read it. ONLY TO SEE HOW FUCKED UP PEOPLE WERE THOUGH!

You saw right through him. He had dodged your every move until finally it was time to film a scene together. 

You didn’t hesitate to grab his face and force it to look at you. 

“Katsuki. What’s wrong?” 

“... I read the stuff.”

Fuck.

You shake your head. “I told you not to read that shit. It’ll just flip you out even more.”

“I know but,” he glances around before pulling you to a more secluded area of the set, “how did they know about us?” 

You giggle and cup his cheek. “They don’t. That’s just what people do.” 

He doesn’t exactly buy it, but he accepts your kiss anyway. “So,” he pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours, “we’re still on at my place tonight, right?”

“Yep.” 

(No one could know you two were together yet. He just wasn’t ready to see more “shipping” shit than he had already seen. You knew that. But that didn’t stop you from writing the fanfictions.)

Todoroki Shouto:

The “they’re brother and sister on the show but fans are perverts” trope. 

Honestly, you were both disgusted at the idea. 

You hung out all the time with the other cast members and only heard of it when someone brought it up.

“WHAT?!”

Yeah, you were human, and you both thought it was a little nasty. 

“Yeah,” Kaminari nods with a grimace, “apparently it’s only because you two look nothing alike though.” 

“Still,” your nose wrinkles, “that’s just wrong.” Todoroki nods beside you. 

“Well, people are weird. I don’t know what to tell you.”

You two were both frazzled by the news, barely able to look at each other without even thinking about it. 

The next day, you two had a scene where you had to hug and kiss each other’s cheeks. Not an unusual act between your two characters, but now it was fucking awkward. 

“What the hell is wrong with you two?” Bakugou glared after the director finally said “Cut!” after enough failed scenes. 

“We just found out our characters are being shipped.” 

It wasn’t really what you said that made Bakugou cackle like an evil witch, it was the way you both said it. 

Your eyes were both wide with horror and you couldn’t even stand to make any contact with each other. 

“You two are fucking idiots!” Bakugou screeched, wiping a tear from his eye. “Get over it! Our fans are fucking crazy, and I’m suprised you haven’t noticed that after one too many hotel room break-ins.”

The blond’s words took a while to sink in, and it wasn’t until you were both sitting next to each other on the backstage couch that you finally glanced at each other. 

“So…” 

“So…” 

…

Ugh, you couldn’t stand it anymore!

“Shouto, are things gonna be weird between us now?”

The thought almost hurt. 

Todoroki’s eyes widened as your own darted over his scarred face frantically. 

“No!” He grabs your hands and holds them in his. “... Well… maybe. I don’t know.”

You two had always liked each other. Perhaps a little more than friends. But playing brother and sister while having a relationship was never a good idea. 

A few days passed and you two decided to take a little break from each other. (You had hoped to get over your feelings so you could go back to acting like brother and sister like normal.)

Then you got the scripts for next week’s episode. 

“I’m adopted?” 

The next day, you and Todoroki could finally stand to be in each other’s presence. 

“So….”

“So….”

…

Oh fuck- AGAIN?!

Nope. You weren’t gonna let that happen. 

You threw your hands around his neck and shoved him towards you, pressing his lips against yours. 

Todoroki instantly threw his arms around your back, pressing you closer as he smiled into the passionate kiss.

Kaminari sighed in relief before slipping back behind the wall as you two pulled away from each other. 

“They’re good.”

The rest of the cast let out relaxed breaths while Bakugou rolled his eyes. 

“Why the fuck did you tell them that, dumbass?”

“I don’t know, I thought it would be funny!” 

“Well then I guess you’re just a SHIT COMEDIAN!”

Yeah, it was just one fanfiction about you two as siblings. 

TO BE FAIR… Kaminari only wrote it because he was shitfaced.

Kirishima Eijirou:

The “she was just supposed to be a side character but the fans fell in love with her and started shipping them” trope.

Yeah, you weren’t supposed to last long. 

Kirishima was the main character, a hero, and you were just supposed to be a temporary damsel in distress.

Oops.

Evidently they made your character a little too cute, a little too funny, a little to perfect. 

You were in for about half a season, and in that time, everybody loved you and Kirishima together.

You two had great chemistry on and off the screen. 

Nothing beats that. 

Except for when the writers killed off your character. 

While it ended with a kiss, you apparently died saving Kirishima’s life as one final thanks for him saving yours in your debut. 

The kiss opened both of your eyes and you knew you couldn’t lose contact with each other. 

Initially, his show only lost a few viewers after you were cut. 

But then it dropped by the thousands when fans spotted you two on a date, smiling happily like no one was around. 

Ahh, the power of persuasion.

People were boycotting his show left and right, claiming that they “split you two up wrongfully.” 

Shit went awry.

Everyone panicked. 

Apparently one major funder had a daughter who had a cousin who had a friend who had a dog that loved you two or something.

Idfk

Either way, the writers and directors whipped up some magical mumbo jumbo to revive your character, and the response was instant. 

After some half-assed funeral scene, they had you dig yourself out of the ground like some zombie, claiming that you were of the same superpowered race as Kirishima. 

The ship lived on, and your characters survived multiple seasons enough to make little superpowered babies.

“Man, I can’t believe the fans went so nuts like that. Who knew a little side character death would cause such an uproar.”

Kirishima nodded along with you, allowing a soft smile to grow on his face as he pounced, licking some stray ice cream off your lips before capturing them in a kiss. 

“Mmm,” his hand reached up to hold you in place against him. He only pulled away to press his forehead against yours with a toothy grin. “I have a little secret to confess.”

“Like what?” Your eyes were still closed in bliss as you licked your lips, reveling in the taste of him. 

He turned your head to the side and cupped a hand around your ear, whispering his pretty little secret. Your eyes flashed open in surprise and you pushed away from him to see his face.

You needed to know if he was serious. 

“YOU WERE THE ANONYMOUS ACCOUNT WHO STARTED THIS?!”

Kirishima nods shyly, holding and squeezing your hand in his lap. 

“I just couldn’t let you go. I wanted to keep seeing you.”

God, he was such a babe.

“Fuck Eijirou,” a grin grows on your face and you brush your lips against his, letting out a giggle. “I love you so much.”

You feel his smile grow into a proud beam against your lips. “I love you too.”

Do you think you can do yandere Tomura and yandere Dabi who had to tell their darling to run because they had to fight and when they find their darling they think they tried to run away from them only to be wrong when their darling hugs them crying because they had got lost and grew scared of being away from them

He Tells You to Run During His Fight and You Get Lost (Yandere BNHA Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

Bakugou, Shinsou, and Todoroki Version

A/N: Yes yes yes! I LOVE writing yanderes! Especially this kind of angsty/petty shit. It hits me in my feels y’all. Anyways, I sincerely hope you like it!

Word count: 1075

Shigaraki Tomura:

The heroes-- those fucking heroes!-- they found the lair.

He didn’t want you to get caught. He didn’t want them to steal you from him, so he told you to run.

You were so scared.

“RUN!”

You did.

But… where were you now? 

He had barely escaped the fight with his life and now all he needed was you, but you were nowhere to be seen.

Shigaraki was pissed, constantly scratching his neck and mumbling your name while he searched the streets nearby. 

But he was scared too. 

He thought he was finally getting to you! Just recently, you had finally responded to one of his kisses, so how could you abandon him now?

Oh, you were so going to be punished after this.

“YN! WHERE ARE YOU!”

But there’s no response. The streets are empty at the sight of a man covered in disembodied hands and blood. Not even the slightest scuffle assisted him in finding you.

Hours passed without a sign, and Shigaraki’s heart grew more and more pained.

How… how could you?

“Tomura?!” 

His name is called in the distance, barely audible, but in the most heavenly voice. 

“YN!” 

“TOMURA!”

You sounded so scared. You should be.

When he finally caught sight of you, you were already sprinting toward him at full speed.

Rage filled his chest. 

“WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING- oof.”

Suddenly he’s tackled into a hug, with your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. You squeeze him so close, afraid he might slip away and be lost forever if you let go.

You! You were-... you were... hugging him?

Oh. 

His arms fumble to wrap around your waist and he hugs you. A relieved sigh falls from his lips. 

Oh.

God, he loved you so much.

“My sweet darling, are you okay?”

“I thought I lost you…” you mumble against his chest, sniveling voice muffled. 

His heart beamed at the words, and he runs comforting hands up and down your back to soothe your shaking. 

“Never.” He pressed a dry kiss to your scalp. “I’m not letting you go ever again. I promise.”

You both stand in the middle of the street for a moment longer, Shigaraki grinning and you trying to slow your tears. 

When your body seems to calm in his grip, he leans back and scans your beautiful form up and down.

“Now let’s go home, love.”

“Okay… and Tomura?” 

God, he loves the way you say his name.

“Yes?” 

“Thank you.” His heart flutters.

Oh no, you were never leaving the house again. Shigaraki could never let you go after this. You were his. He would be the only one to hold you ever again.

“Of course, darling.”

Dabi:

It was the first day he had finally let you out of his home. 

He had taken you on a “date” of sorts, going up deep into the woods to watch the stars. It was far enough away that no one could hear your screams if you tried to get away. 

Thank God you didn’t. 

In fact, you seemed almost happy, holding his hand and swinging it back and forth as you both traveled home. He couldn’t help but smirk at the smile on your face.

The peaceful night was ruined when a hero recognized him. A battle was on, and Dabi was forced to let you go.

“YN, run!”

“B-but I-”

“RUN!” 

He loved a good listener, and he loved you even more, but he couldn’t afford to let someone take you away. 

You disappeared into the night, dashing away as he’d ordered. Good girl.

The hero, if you could even call him that at this point, was burnt to a smoking crisp in minutes, because how dare he ruin Dabi’s first date with you?

But… where did you go?

The stitched man wasn’t sure where you had gone, even after searching for however many hours. It was like you had disappeared without a trace.

Surely you didn’t… leave, did you? No. No, you would never.

Another hour passed.

YOU BITCH!

“YN WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!”

Blue flames licked at his palms as he charged down the street, eyes darting back and forth.

“I WILL FIND YOU!”

“Dabi?” 

A meek whisper sounded from the dead-end alley across the street.

“Dabi?” Just a tad louder, your fearful voice mumbled his name, but he stayed silent. 

He could hear the blood pumping in his ears. Fury settled in the pit of his stomach, and he wanted to pounce on you so bad. 

But he wouldn’t. No, he wouldn’t.

He would much rather you come to your predator like a lamb to the slaughter. 

Blue eyes glowing in the light of his flames, he narrows his gaze and skims the murky street for even the slightest movement. Then your head pops up from behind a dumpster.

“Dabi!” your voice shouts in… relief?

Dabi’s fingers itch to wrap around your throat, but the urge falters when you cry out in joy, standing up fully and dashing towards the confused man.

“Wha…?” 

Any air he had gathered is forced out of his chest when you shove his blazing hands away and trap him in your arms.

“YN-”

“I was so scared when I couldn’t find you!” You whimper against his chest, leaving his mind a muddled mess. “I thought- hiccup- I thought that hero killed you and started coming after me.”

The rest of your words grow into a panicked rambling as you break down against him, hands gripping his upper back tighter and tighter with every gasping breath you take. 

You were so terrified, trembling and shivering and crying. It was so beautiful.

A sly grin works its way onto Dabi’s face and he sneaks a hand up to brush through your hair. 

“Shh. Shh. You’re okay now.” 

You were so perfect.

“It’s all gonna be okay.”

God, he loved you so much.

“Nobody’s ever going to take you from me.”

“Promise?”

Oh fuck. 

You were such a good girl, so obedient. 

Dabi’s fingers twitch while combing through your hair, tangling deeper into the strands. Then his other arm encircles your hips and stiffens like solid metal.

Dabi simpers finally, pressing his upturned lips to your cheek. 

“Oh, I promise, darling. I swear my life to it.”

List Of Alternate Universes

Alternate Universe (also known as alternate reality), is commonly abbreviated as AU and it is a descriptor used to characterize fanworks which change one or more elements of the source work’s canon. The term most often refers to fanfiction, but fanart can also depicted the characters in AUs.

Unlike regular fanfiction, which generally remains within the boundaries of the canon set out by the author, alternate universe fiction writers like to explore the possibilities of pivotal changes made to characters’ history, motivations, or environment.

Alien Invasion AU – In which the story deals with an alien invasion when canonically it does not ever happened.

All Human AU – In which characters who are canonically non-human are now humans, with corresponding changes to their backstories.

Alpha/Beta/Omega AU – Often referred to as A/B/O or even Omegaverse. It is a growing trope of AUs originated in kinkmemes in which characters can be Alphas (dominant males or females), Betas (ordinary working class), or Omegas (submissive males or females).

Android AU – In which the main character or most of the cast are turn into androids that serve different purposes, such as bodyguard, solider, caregiver and so on. In other cases it becomes something similar to Absolute Boyfriend (Zettai Kareshi) where they are mail order androids that can be order online or from a cataloged. If not, they may have originally been human but turn into an android for whatever reason.

Angel/Demon AU – When angels and demons exist (in the case of canons that don’t have them) or a character is recast as one of them. However, these kind of AUs don’t necessarily have to have both beings in the story as some tend to focus on only one of them.

Arranged Marriage AU – Similar to the Marriage Law AU, only the difference is that not all the characters are required to be married. It is mostly focused on only one pairing and it is usually a pairing that wouldn’t normally get together such as crack ships or doomed ships. In some stories it is a plausible idea, but in others it is not.

Bakery AU – When most of the cast of a story works at a bakery while the rest are customers.

BDSM AU – Is when the entire cast is either a dominant or a submissive and BDSM relationships are considered the norm. Be advised that while a healthy BDSM relationship is consensual and not dangerous, if handled incorrectly it can result in abusive behavior which is offensive and considered bad BDSM etiquette.

Bookstore AU – When most of the casts works at a bookstore. If not, usually a few of the characters work there, while the rest of them are customers. Another version is the Library AU, in which one or two of the characters are librarians, while the rest of the cast spend their time looking for particular books.

Business AU – In which the story is set in a building and the characters are employees. Sometimes it is focus on one character who works as a secretary and another character as their boss. 

Circus AU – In which the story is set in a circus and the characters are circus performers or customers.

Coffee Shop AU – Also known as Barista AU. In most cases, one half of the main pairing is the barista and the other is or becomes their favorite customer; in some stories the whole cast works at a coffee shop.

Crime AU – In which the characters of a story are various type of criminals, such as burglars, bank robbers, gangsters, drug dealers, smugglers, hitman/fixer and so on. This AU focuses on their criminal lives. It is similar to the Mafia AU.

Darkside AU – Is when the canon villain of the story succeeds in their mission and the AU story focuses on the outcome of it.

Desert island AU – Or an uninhabited island AU, in which a character or most of the characters of a story are trapped on a deserted island, usually from being shipwrecked or their plane crashing.

Dystopian AU – Is set in a dystopian society that is not the original setting of the canon.

Fairy Tail AU – In which canon characters are put into situations and/or settings from fairy tales, such as Beauty and the Beast, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty,  Little Red Riding Hood, etc.

Fantasy AU – In which the story takes place in a fantasy universe where magic or magical abilities is normal, technology is nonexistent and supernatural creatures exist.

Flower Shop AU – Similar to the Coffee Shop AU and the Bakery AU, but instead the entire cast works in a flower shop. Or one of the characters works there and the rest are customers.

Genderswap AU – In which one or more characters in the story switch binary sexes, such as depicting a male character as a cis woman.

Harem AU – Or Reverse Harem AU is when a story that doesn’t contain any polygamous or love triangle relationships turns into one. Usually the main character has something happen to them that attracts the other characters to them, be it from a love potion, experimental perfume, spell gone wrong, and so on.

Haunted House AU – Or Haunted Castle AU, in which a character moves into a new home or castle and doesn’t know that it is haunted (usually by a ghost, sometimes a demon or some other type of creature) or they are dared by their friends to spend the night in it. 

High School/College AU – In which the characters are shown in high school or in college together. They are often done with characters who canonically meet later in life, altering or entirely overwriting their original backstories. Similar to this AU is the Boarding School AU and the Elementary School AU.

Hogwarts AU – In which the characters from other stories are placed into the setting of Harry Potter. These can be coexistent with Harry Potter canon, or ignore it entirely. But they are often portrayed as students of Hogwarts instead of teachers that work there.

Hospital AU – In which the characters of a story are doctors, nurses and patients in a hospital (sometimes it is set in an asylum). 

Hooker AU – Where one or more of the characters is a sex worker. The more common is the Pretty Woman-type fantasy of a hooker with a heart of gold, rescued from life on the streets by a client. Sex work of all kinds is portrayed: brothels, escorts, street prostitution, “call-girls” as well as strippers and go-go boys. Most of the time one character of the pairing is the hooker and the other the client, though some stories have both characters as prostitutes (sometimes along with other canon characters, in either a brothel-type setting or living on the streets).

Hunger Games AU – In which characters from other stories are competitors in the Hunger Games.

Ice Cream Shop AU – When the casts works at an ice cream shop. Possibly one of the characters owns it, while the rest are employees or customers.

Law Enforcement/Military AU – In which the cast are policeman, federal agents, soldiers, marines or whatnot and the story focuses on their lives.

Mafia AU – In which the characters are in a mafia.

Magic AU – Incorporate magic in stories where there is no magic present in canon.

Marriage Law AU – It spawn from the Marriage Law Challenge in the Harry Potter fandom, in which the premise is to forced marriage between a Muggle-born to a Pure-blood (or Half-Blood) due to a new decree passed by the Ministry of Magic to help preserve the magical population. 

Master/Slave AU – In which the cast are place in an universe where slavery is an accepted economic and cultural institution. Some stories treat this as a significant moral problem to be resisted and overthrown if possible; others treat slavery as an unchangeable institution.

Merpeople AU – Or also known as Undersea AU, in which a story is set in the ocean and the characters are turned into mermaids and merman. Sometimes it’s focus on only one character that becomes a mermaid or merman and another character that is a human. When it’s the latter the AU usually turns into a Little Mermaid type of story.

Modern AU – In which characters from a historical (or pseudo-historical) canon universe are placed into a modern setting.

Monster AU – In which the characters are changed into non-human creatures, such as Incubus/Succubus or other kinds of monsters.

No Human AU – Also known as Animal AU, is the opposite of All Human AU, in which characters that are canonically human are now non-humans.

Noir Detective AU – In which the characters are put in a typical ‘40s or ‘50s film noir environment. Or sometimes as a homage towards the style, in which the characters are still their canon selves, but plot or aesthetics are given a noir slant.

Opposite AU – In which canon personalities and backstories are swapped out with an opposite versions of themselves. Such as a quiet shy character may become loud and outgoing.

Pacific Rim AU – In which the characters are put into the world of Pacific Rim (most often as Jaeger pilots). This AU gained popularity due to the concept of Drift Compatibility that made for excellent shipping interactions.

Pen Pal AU – Is when two characters (who have met in canon) have not met each other in this AU. Sometimes they live in the area and other times they don’t live on the same continent. Usually it is their school that sets them up as pen pals. If not, it is because one of the characters writes a letter to the wrong person/wrong address or they accidentally texts the wrong person.

Pirate AU – When the whole cast are pirates and it is focus on shipboard life, usually it is set in early nineteenth-century Europe. Sometimes it’s pirates in outer space.

Prison AU – In which characters meet for the first time in an prison environment where they have to depend on each other.

Private Detective AU – When one of the characters becomes a professional detective while the rest of the cast are their clients or the detective’s contacts in the police department (sometimes they work in other fields, in which the Detective character calls them in for favors to help solve difficult cases).

Reincarnation AU – In which stories with historical canon setting have the characters become reincarnated into a modern setting and in doing so they are quite similar to their canon selves.

Reverse AU – Is when the roles (and sometimes backstories) of the characters are swapped, such as the hero is the villain and the villain is the hero.

Rockstar AU – In which the main casts is a popular music band or one of them is a solo artists with many groupies which may consist the rest of the characters. 

Roommate AU – In which the characters in a fandom are all living together in an apartment or an house. Usually this kind of story is focused on two characters that become roommates.

Royalty AU – Where one or more characters (who canonically aren’t) are members of a royal family. This usually goes hand in hand with a historical period, featuring a Medieval AU or Regency AU, although some works are set in Modern times or even the Future.

Single Parent AU – In which a character has a child or becomes a parent in someway and raises them on their own. 

Soulmates AU – Is when two (or more) characters are fated to be together, sometimes through multiple lives and/or into the afterlife. Sometimes but not always, the pairing might have a characteristic or tell to help them find each other, such as identical or complementary birthmarks, tattoos, scars, or an invisible string that ties to their other half which becomes thicker and shorter the closer they get to them. Some stories only need a character to hear (or just see) their soulmate to know who they are.

Space AU – Where a fandom that is canonically set on Earth becomes set in outer space.

Spy AU – Also known as Secret Agent AU or Espionage AU. The whole cast is turned into spies, sometimes they work for the same organization, government or they operate independently. Other times the AU is focused on only one or two characters that are the spies.

Superpowers AU – In which the characters have superpowers and are either heroes and/or villains. 

Steampunk AU – In which a story is turned into a futuristic/sci-fi version of a 19th Century, usually Victorian or Edwardian containing clocks, gears, springs, steam power, analog computers, airships, etc. 

Vampire/Werewolf AU – In which vampires and werewolves exist (in the case of canons that don’t have them) or a character is recast as a vampire or werewolf. However, these kind of AUs don’t necessarily have to have both species as some tend to focus on only one kind.

Victorian AU – In which characters from a modern or future-set story are relocate to a stereotypical Victorian romanticism era.

Western AU – In which the characters are transplanted into the “Old West”; or sometimes, especially in science fiction stories a Space Western equivalent, which may involve a western-type plot without horses and cattle ranches.

Wonderland AU – In which the story and the characters are turned into their own version of “Alice in Wonderland”.

Zombie Apocalypse AU – Also know as Zombie AU. In which stories that don’t contain an zombie apocalypse have it happen to them.

Note: This isn’t a complete list of AUs, but I will keep updating it whenever I come across something new (or someone lets me know what I’m missing). Also, keep in mind that sometimes an AU story is combine with others elements. For example, instead of the very common story about the characters attending a high school in modern times, it can be a magical school set in an futuristic world. 

The Claw (Nishinoya x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Claw machines are unfair, and your boyfriend is seriously impatient. You see where this is going, right?

A/N: Just another imagine I got to write thanks to this prompt by @otpdisaster​. Seriously, if you ever get writer’s block, go check them out, they’re a godsend. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 914

        Buzz buzz.

        The call scared you out of your homework induced trance. After a certain point, you knew you had to give up on zoning out while glaring at the laptop screen. With a sigh, you snatched up your phone and answered. 

        “Hello?”

        “YN!” There’s a muffled screeching in the background of the call that sounds suspiciously like your name. 

        “Tanaka? What’s going on?”

        “You need to come-” his voice breaks away in a chuckle. “You need to come to the mall right now!”

        “Umm, why?”

        “Just come!” The noises in the background become louder and more frantic. “And bring butter!”

        “Why do I-” the call ends before you can ask what the hell is going on, and why a dairy product seems to be the solution to whatever mess your boyfriend’s best friend has gotten into. 

        “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you mumble under your breath, still staring at your phone with wide eyes. Well, it’s better than doing homework on a Saturday. With a shrug, you grab your jacket and your keys, getting ready to drive to the disaster zone. 

                                ~~~

        It’s not much, but it's the best you could find on such short notice, and with such little spare change in your pocket. Walking into the mall with a tub of ‘I Can’t Believe it’s Not Butter’ held in your grasp, you anxiously search for the bald volleyball player. 

        “Ooh, there he is!” Your eyes catch on his signature buzz cut and you make a beeline for him. “Tanaka! Hey!”

        The arcade he stands in is dim with neon green lights flashing from the ceiling like a disco. Children shout excitedly and button-mash on the machines like no tomorrow while you shoulder through a crowd of people to grab his arm. 

        “Hey!” You’re barely audible over the sounds of tickets printing and Pac-Man chomping, so you raise your voice to a shout. “Why did you need this?” You hold up the tub in front of his face and he can only guffaw at the sight of you.

        “Oh hey YN! I’m so glad you could make it!” He snickers once more before stepping away from the claw machine he had been standing in front of. “Noya, look who’s here!”

        “Fuck you, man!” Your boyfriend, who had been hidden by the taller stature of Tanaka, is seated on the floor, one arm lodged up the prize door of the machine while the other flips off his friend. 

        The bald man only laughs harder, pressing an arm against his stomach while howls. You, on the other hand, can only gape at the sight.

        “Yuu, what are you doing?!” He rubs the back of his neck and smiles sheepishly. 

        “I wanted to get you the little stuffed cat,” he points at the toy with the hand wedged in the machine, fingers just barely visible inside the glass. “But this stupid machine,” he smacks the side of it with a sneer, “totally cheated me!”

        The sentiment made your heart flutter, but the sight made you giggle and avoid eye contact. 

        “Hey!”

        “I’m sorry! It’s just,” you gesture at his predicament, “you know… fucking hilarious!” You can’t hold it in any longer as you join Tanaka in busting a gut while Nishinoya miserably slumps onto the arcade floor. 

        “You guys suck.” You both die laughing at his grumble, holding onto each other for support just in case someone topples over. 

        It doesn’t take long before you get spotted.

        “Excuse me!” It’s a young employee of the arcade, and he looks just about done with all of you from the get-go. “Kid, I’m gonna have to ask you to remove your hand from the machine.” 

        “I’m older than you!” Nishinoya kicks his legs against the ground indignantly and you have to bite your lip to contain yourself. “Plus,” he purses his lips, “I’m stuck.”

        The employee sighs and smacks his palm against his forehead. “I’ll go get the butter.”

        “Oh, no need,” you hold up your grocery store purchase like a prized possession, “I already got some.” The younger man quirks his brow at you before accepting the item and whipping out a handy butter knife from his back pocket. You and Tanaka both gawk and glance at each other at the sight of his preparedness. 

        “Every Goddamn day,” he mutters before getting to work. 

        While Nishinoya’s situation is dealt with, you leave the scene with a promise that you’ll be back to Tanaka. About thirty minutes later, your boyfriend is free as a bird and you pop up in front of him with a gift.

        “Here,” you hand him a stuffed cat with a victorious smirk. Amazement overcomes his features and his jaw drops at the gift. He wiggles excitedly and captures you in a hug, but his appreciation of your present doesn’t last long.

        “Wait,” he pulls away and the overjoyed grin falls from his face. “How did you get this?!” His eyes narrow with suspicion while he observes the toy from all angles like it was a fake.

        “I won it,” you announce proudly.

        “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me!” 

        If only he knew you were now out forty bucks.

Dear Winter - AJR. Thats all i'm gonna give you. have funnnnnn

listened to the song, it was a bop. probably still in my liked songs on spotify, but i never rly came up w an idea for it. one day ill go thru a dilf stage like half the ppl on this hellsite, then i shall revisit this song for inspo

ajr is a great band but hot damn i miss their spongebob song whatever happend to that phase

Your Yandere Micheal series is so so awesome! Do you think you'd write more for Peaky Blinders?

i literally just wrote a michael gray request two seconds ago and it reminded how cute/hot/adorable lil puppy dog michael gray was in the first few seasons

aka yeah i'm totally a lil open to it all the time apparently bc how could i ever forget that lil cutie

I'm so glad you liked the fics!! Thank you so much!!

Can I be tagged in reborn please?

For sure!!