Explosive Antics (Genos X Reader)

Star Wars Masterlist

☔ = Angst

🌦️ = Angst to Fluff

💥 = Crack

☀️ = Fluff

💋 = Smut

🖤 = Yandere

🔔 = Request

🟪Imagines🟪

Anakin Skywalker:

■  Drunk Confession (slight 🌦️)

A very drunk Anakin has some very sober thoughts for you to hear.

Kylo Ren:

■ His Mask (Soulmate AU) 🌦️

After your very first mission for the Resistance goes awry, you can’t help but feel a connection to the Supreme Leader sent to interrogate you. However, when he lets you go after reading the name on your wrist, you can’t help but feel like the mission hadn’t accidentally gone so wrong after all.

■  Who Dunnit 💥 (slight 💋)

Someone left their panties in the control room after what must have been a night of fun and Hux is determined to find out who.

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.

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I...I can't not express how good your yandere Michael Gray fic was OH MY GOD it was so well written. Usually I am not a huge fan of Michael but this was just chef's kiss

ahhhh goodness thank you so much I'm happy you like it!! bruh i mean michael gray is such a cutie i wanted to try my hand at making him a yandere since there's not many fics of that so i'm glad you enjoyed it as well!

Just finished shoving the third part down my throat. God! It was so good. I am beyond excited but also patiently waiting, for anything you make next. You've got a talent and I must applaud you for it!

I'm so glad you liked it! I'm just glad I survived to the end of this fic and didn't leave it on a cliffhanger like most of my stories😭

Thank you so much for these kind words---they make me want to keep writing, and there's no better feeling than that!!!💜💜💜

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. 

hey okay so first of all i just wanted to tell you how much i adore your writing ahhh its so good omg!! also i know that you put the reborn (?i think) fic on pause but i just wanted to ask if you could put me on the taglist? bc its so good and i wanna know once you post again hehe

Aksjfkfj Thank you so much!! I’m glad u like my writing🥺🥺💜💜 I’ll for sure put you on the tag list! I’m glad you’re liking it so far🥰

As long as I get food, games, sleep and whatever I want I'm cool... Y'all can leave me be cause I hate going out anyways 😂

I mean same🤷‍♀️

Can we just discuss how hot it is when yandere boys get jealous and go nuts tho😳

Like,,, dude🥵

*Tips toes back into the request box* Hey! It's me again, I got another yandere!Garou idea, what if he had a childhood friend who was always there for him and defended him from bullies and he fell in love with them and he confessed but his crush tried to reject him in a nice way and he just snaps.I'm so sorry that i keep requesting yandere!Garou content but I really love how you write him and portray him (and because I'm a simp for him too),

Turning the Tables (Yandere Garou x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: The monster never gets the girl, but why not? Garou never knew, but what he did know was that that was about to change. He was getting the girl… getting you, whether you want him or not.

A/N: *Almost passes out writing this at 2 am* Ehh, I really wish this one could have been better, but I already procrastinated enough on it. Sorry it took so long, and I really hope it fits what you wanted. This idea was great, and I only wish I had a better time writing for it. But anyways, in all honesty, I hope you like it!

Word count: 2525

        “Haha, look at the monster cry!”

        “Beat him up, he’s evil!”

        “Take him out, hero! Take out the villain!”

        The calls were all the same. Every game, they would cheer as Tacchan stood over him, kicking him and hitting him with the nearest stick. 

        “Take that, monster! And that!” 

        Why? What did I do? What made me the villain?

        “Stop hurting him!” 

        The pain stops as Tacchan is shoved away. A girl-- you-- kneels next to him, surveying him for bruises or other wounds as he stays curled up on his side. 

        “Why are you defending him, YN? He’s not the hero. He’s just the dumb monster.” 

        You fix a fierce glare on the school’s pretty boy, keeping a comforting hand on Garou’s shoulder as you speak. “You know, heroes lose too sometimes.” 

        Those words… someone finally understood. Someone finally believed in what he believed, was willing to fight for what he was willing to fight for. You stood up for him. You stood up for the monster.

        It was those words that left Garou falling for you. Addicted to you.

                                ~~~

        Why couldn’t the monsters ever win? Why couldn’t they defeat the hero or succeed in their plans? 

        Why couldn’t the monster ever get the girl?

        Garou never knew why, but one thing he did know was that, looking at you, he was going to change that. 

        I’m getting the girl.

        “I’m just saying I think you’re overreacting.”

        “Pshh, says you!” You shove him away and stick out your tongue. “Where finals are concerned, your opinion is irrelevant. You dropped out; therefore, I get to bitch about finals all I want!” 

        The pair of you walked side by side down the street. Once in a while, your hands would brush at the proximity, and Garou did all he could to resist intertwining your fingers with his own. 

        Be patient.

        “Well, maybe you should try actually studying instead of watching anime.”

        “Maybe you should shut up.” 

        He only grinned as you pouted, continuing down the street at what must’ve been ten at night. Both of you had just left the cinema after a particularly disappointing horror movie. Garou had vetoed the other options, which consisted of two superhero movies, one documentary, and three cheesy chick flicks. He had hoped that you would duck into his shoulder at any jumpscares, but the movie had been dreadfully bare of any actual horror. 

        Through the glowing streets of City S, you guided Garou back to your apartment building, leading him up the steps and to your door. 

        “Shit, it was freaking freezing out there!” Your hands tremble as you try to unlock the door. After the key finally wiggles its way into the lock, you let out a noise of relief before leading him inside. “Why don’t you stay here and warm up before going back to- oh where was it you said you were staying again? A lovely three-story mansion with a backyard hot tub?”

        Scoffing, Garou observes as you toss your coat aside on the kitchen table and collapse onto the couch. “I’ll have you know my shack is actually quite warm compared to the outside.”

        You hum, unimpressed as he settles down on the cushion beside you and lays an arm out directly behind your head. “Yeah, sure. Because fifty degrees is always considered warmer when compared to forty-nine.”

        “Exactly,” he nods, smirking at the laugh it drags out of you. A comfortable silence falls over your living room as you lean your head back on Garou’s arm. You were always so comfortable and accepting of him. You thought the same way he did, always considering the villain’s feelings along with the hero. You shared his sense of humor, his adoration for children, and his deep devotion to your guys’s friendship. 

        Truly, Garou believed there was no way you didn’t feel the same. Every hug and kiss on the cheek you gave him assured him so. He just had to tell you. 

        If he confessed first, he knew you would feel confident enough to say the same. 

        “Garou.” All too suddenly, he’s dragged out of his thoughts of you by you yourself. He doesn’t mind, though; listening to your voice was a million times better than imagining it in his head. One too many times had it not been enough when he sat in his hideout, imagining you lounging around and planning out his next hero attack by his side. 

        Your hand stretches over his lap to grasp his own as you sit up and turn to him, one leg folded while the other hangs off the couch. “Honestly, I really think you should stay here tonight.” 

        No, he would never refuse that. Not in a million years. You wanted him here. This time, you invited him to stay in your home. 

        It was much better than when he used to settle for intruding while you slept, crawling into bed beside you and watching you slumber long before the sun rose. It was always harder to leave than it was to enter. 

        “YN…”

        “I know, I know, but I hate to see how you’re living right now.” You tear your gaze away from his intense one and shake your head. “My spare room is always open.”

        No, no, that’s not what he wanted. 

        “It’s got a mattress and everything. It’s gotta be better than the bale of hay you settle for.” 

        “I don’t sleep on a bale of hay!” 

        You raise a brow and he rolls his eyes, grumbling his response. “It’s not as uncomfortable as you think.” 

        “C’mon Garou, you need this. And honestly, I don’t mind you staying here! I promise.”

        That wasn’t his issue. Of course, he wanted to stay here too, but for different reasons. You wanted to keep him inside and safe like a friend should. 

        He wanted to sleep on your bed and hold you in his arms. He wanted to wake you with breakfast in the morning, kiss you before you left for school, greet you and help you with homework when you returned. 

        He wanted to make love to you on the counter, in the shower, on the sofa you both sat on right now. 

        No longer could he stand this platonic bullshit anymore, and he knew you felt the same. 

        I’m getting the girl. 

        “I’d be a shitty friend if I didn’t let you stay here for at least tonight-”

        “Why don’t we both sleep in your bed then?”

        Garou finally shifts his body to face yours, mirroring your position and pulling the arm off the back of your couch to drop it into your lap. His fingers splay out along your thigh but you don’t bother to stop the movements. 

        Jaw dropped, you stare at Garou in shock. “W-What?!”

        “You heard me.”

        “Yeah, I heard you, but I don’t think I did it too good.”

        “Then I’ll repeat myself.” Garou leans closer, face just inches from your own as he whispers, “Why don’t we sleep in the same bed for the night?”

        Never before had you seen the look in his eyes. With enlarged pupils forcing away their natural yellow, they practically glow with desire as he leers over you. Part of you wants to lean back, but you just keep thinking no, this is Garou, my friend. He’s just teasing.

        “Very funny, Garou,” you snort, placing two hands on his solid chest to push him away, but you gulp when he doesn’t budge. 

        “It wasn’t a joke, YN.”

        God, he was so close you could feel yourself sweating under his gaze. He was too close; his body was too hot. Slipping away from his long fingers, you stand up and stumble into the kitchen. A glass of water, that’s what you needed to clear your head. 

        Rage floods Garou’s chest at the aversion and he doesn’t hesitate to follow you. “YN-”

        You hold up a finger to pause him while you swallow glass after glass of water, hoping and begging that this was just a joke. Surely he wasn’t serious, right?

        After your fifth glass, Garou huffs out in irritation and snatches the water away from your lips, slamming it to the table before folding his arms. “YN.” 

        “Garou.”

        That look in her eyes, it can’t be fear. No, no she loves you just as much as you love her. She’s just shy.

        “YN, I’m in love with you.” His cheeks almost burn at the confession, but he continues. “I have been since the day we met, when you stood up for me.” 

        Guilt floods your features before you turn your head, hugging yourself for comfort. “Garou, I don’t… I don’t know what to say.”

        “Just tell me the truth. Tell me you feel the same, YN, because I know there’s no way you don’t.”

        “But Garou-”

        “Just say you love me, YN, and we can finally be together like we should be.” When he takes a step closer, you take one back, and that’s when the love and hope in his eyes crumbles. 

        “Garou, I’m sorry. I do, a-and I will always love you-”

        “Then why-”

        “-as my best friend.” 

        Cracks fill his chest as the words settle in his stomach like a rock. His heart twinges at the words as they echo in his ears. 

        A friend? That’s all he was to you? A FRIEND?!

        “Take it back, YN.” His head has dropped, shaking back and forth incessantly as he mumbles the words. “Take it back.”

        “Garou, I’m so sorry.” 

        Crash.

        You flinch at the sight, watching water drip down your walls as broken glass falls to the floor. A chair at your kitchen table gets kicked into the wall as well, splintering off a wooden leg and leaving a hole in the paneling. 

        A scream rips its way out of your throat when Garou picks up your table, throwing it in the same direction and not even flinching when it breaks into flying pieces. Fear holds your heart tightly in it’s grasp as he approaches you, face scrunched up in fury. 

        “Why, YN?” The words are spat with disdain. “Why won’t you just admit you love me back? What’s stopping you?”

        You whimper and back away slowly, scared to anger the beast more. Too bad the damage had already been done. Garou kicks a dent into your fridge, allowing the cold air to hiss out and fill the now-dusty room. 

        “Garou, please!”         “I won’t use you, YN! I won’t cheat on you, or go behind your back! I love you and only you!” 

        “Garou!” Fearful tears slide down your face after you run into the counter, completely and utterly helpless. You feel trapped in your own home. 

        “And I won’t hurt you…” he trails off, ignoring your flinching as he looms closer, “...not unless I have to.”

        “Please, just stop!” Your emotions are at an all-time high as you frantically draw in breaths, filling your lungs as fast as you can when this monster approaches. “I’m sorry!”

        The more you speak, it seems, the more furious Garou becomes. While you slump to the cold floor of your kitchen, he turns your house into a war zone. 

        His voice, heightened with pain, never stops talking as he trashes your house, punching holes in the walls and chucking furniture everywhere. 

        “Why YN?!”

        “Why don’t you love me?!”

        “You’re mine!”

        “I’m not letting you go!”

        “I’ll make you love me, I don’t care what I have to do. You will love me.” 

        Even after ducking your head into your knees and plugging your ears, you couldn’t block out the shouts, the crashes, the tornado that was Garou ripping through your house and destroying everything you owned. 

        “You don’t love me?” he scoffed, running his bloody hands through his hair and shaking his head. “She doesn’t love me, she doesn’t love me, she doesn’t love me.” 

        When he returns to the kitchen to see you, he can’t help but crumple to the ground.

        Your face is tucked between your legs and your body visibly trembles on the floor. Garou bites into his lip at the sight, rage wilting into despair as he kneels in front of you.

        “I can fix this,” he shakes his head. “I will, I promise.” Without a second thought, he nudges your hands away from your ears before dropping his head to your shoulder and letting out a shaky sigh. 

        Tears soak through your shirt for all the wrong reasons, but you can’t get away. By now, he’s pressed your forehead against his chest and wiggled his way between your knees, mumbling words you assume he thinks are reassuring as he runs his lips up and down your neck. 

        “I can fix this, YN. I’m not gonna lose you. I swear, I’m not letting you go ever again.”

        Before you can do anything to get away, he’s rising to his feet and taking you with him. 

        Your arms instinctually wrap around his neck so you don’t fall back, bile crawling up your throat when he smiles and hums in approval against your skin. “Good girl.”

        By force, your legs are wrapped around his waist by his hands, now settled below your thighs as he squeezes the flesh appreciatively. “Yes, YN, let’s get out of here. I’ll fix all of this, just let me get us out of here and then we can discuss this.”

                                ~~~

        Garou got the girl. The monster finally won.

        He couldn’t fight the grin off his face as he held you tighter, brushing the hair out of your eyes as you slept without a care. 

        The gentle touch woke you from your pleasant dream, leaving you forced to confront the nightmare that was reality. 

        “Morning Angel.” A kiss to your forehead left your skin crawling. 

        “Garou… please-”

        “Ah, ah, ah, none of that today. I don’t want to have to gag you again.” His finger booped your nose as if he had just teased you with a toy. The horribly familiar grip on your waist was just as bruising as it was yesterday, and the day before, but it was still a pleasant exchange for the shackles that had kept you in place for the first two weeks you were in Garou’s hideout. The gag had stayed on your face for the same amount of time, but even the memory made your heart seize. 

        “You’re a monster.” 

        God, he actually smiled at that.

        “Oh, I know, Angel. And soon, you’ll love me for it.” He pauses only to hug you closer. “Just like you used to.”

MY DUUUUUDE- part six of Reborn hurt me!! really bad!! i read the last line and was like ?!?!?!?? >:OOOO ?!?!?!? it was an absolutely wonderful read though, keep doing what you're doing! <333

Aww I’m glad you liked it!! Sorry to say it was supposed to hurt😚 I’m so happy for all the support it’s getting tho bc I was feeling a tad insecure about it🙃 it’s kinda been a while so Ive been hoping it was a smooth transition from chap to chap, and thank you so much for the love☺️💜

I want this job