(I’m the anon who requested a part 2 of the Michael grey fic) I have some ideas :) if Michael grey is in the process of healing but still isn’t strong enough, what if his darling began missing home more than she loved him, and tried to escape to go home? Or maybe it could be when he’s healing he becomes very clingy and his darling is there for him to cling to? Have a good day/night!
*GIF not mine*
Summary: Michael is weak and desperate for you after being bedridden with his gunshot wounds in the hospital, but after weeks of caring for him, you know your feelings for your former kidnapper have grown into something you don’t dare confess. One night, when you almost let your feelings slip, you decide to flee. Michael won’t let you go so easily.
Part 1
A/N: not exactly what was requested, but it was an idea I had rattling around in the ol' hat rack for a while. Can be read as a standalone, but it is part 2 of "Gray Chains," so either way ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ enjoy!
Word count: 2664
You can see him approaching you now. Through the crowds of swaying people, of hazy smoke and jazz hanging in the air of the dark, gilded nightclub, dressed in a tuxedo of white with a red bowtie at his throat.
There’s a hungry look in his gaze, but that’s only because he’s been starved of you for hours. Five weeks of sitting in that hospital room with him, catering to his every need, his every desire. All because you’d accidentally fallen for the man that had left you tied to his bed for days on end.
In that white, suffocating room full of antiseptic and nurses filtering in and out, you’d sat there one night in a chair, pulled up next to his bed. Your bottom was numb and hot from the sheer number of times you’d been in that same position by his side.
His hand had been curled around yours, and according to the dimmed lights around the room and the darkness creeping in from the window, it was around ten or so at night. On his hospital bed, he lay flat on his back, still wrapped in surgical tape and stitches. The blue patches of skin under and around his eyes had begun to fade paler, almost matching the yellowed, stitched skin on his chest. His eyes drooped, the gunmetal blue in them tainted with exhaustion.
Still, somehow though, he found it in himself to smile at you, pulling your hand up to his lips with a doting sigh and peppering kisses along the back of your hand. His hair fell into his eyes during the act, and you brushed it back from his forehead into alignment with the other, freshly dampened strands.
He paused his ministrations. Pressing his lips one final time against your knuckles, his gaze found yours. “I love you,” he whispered, his breath warm on your skin.
He said it every night. He said it every morning too, and at least twice during each midday.
You’d never said it back. You never felt the need to; to you, he was just supposed to be the kidnapper you’d found yourself forced to take care of. You’ve had the deplorable feelings and thoughts that came with you being around his loving self every day, but you’d never dared to give in to the words.
Now, you’d felt them ghosting your lips. You’d felt your resolve break, and you’d actually told yourself there was no harm in returning the sentiment. He had won you over.
A panic struck your chest at your realization, and you fumbled back into your chair, mind frantic.
Michael was completely unaware. Like usual, his brows twitched and furrowed at your lack of response, and he released your hand, settling himself carefully underneath the blanket and watching as you did the same in the chair beside him. Dutifully, he waited until your eyes fell closed and your breath steadied before giving into his own exhaustion.
“Goodnight, love.”
And when his soft snores began to fill the room, you fled. With a pocketful of the stack of cash Tommy had delivered earlier to pay for Michael’s hospital bills, you walked, carefully blank-faced, through the quiet, marble halls and out the door before hailing a cab to London.
Eden Club.
The pub the cab driver had recommended to you after the look on your face and your voiced need for a drink. You’d nodded absentmindedly, and now you found yourself in the heart of the thumping room, chandeliers twinkling on the ceiling and gold laced throughout the alabaster floor. At one of the few tables surrounding the group of dancers, you sipped on a red wine, the strong, thick flavor intoxicating your senses until you couldn’t understand why you were in the pub at all.
But you knew it was Michael. It had to be. Who else would approach you in this pandemonium of sweaty, inebriated bodies? Saxophones wailed as a singer of sorts crooned into his microphone so many feet behind you, and you flinched as someone bumped into the back of your chair while making their way to the party floor.
No, it wasn’t Michael, you realized now. The waiter in the all-white suit approached you now, a sommelier, in all actuality. The wine cloth over his arm was stained from many former visits, and you realize now that the bottle in his hand is of the same kind as the drink in your glass.
The sommelier catches your eye, and before he can open his mouth to offer another glass, you shake your head, waving away the bottle.
Not Michael.
You watch as he nods, approaching the other tables around you in turn, the same offer filling their ears.
No, you think to yourself, cupping your wine glass with both hands and losing yourself deeper in the crimson liquid. No more tonight. Your hands tighten, the one around the stem feeling so close to cracking the glass.
A breath, not quite relieving after the fright you’d just had, escapes you. You’re not quite sure how long it’s been since you’d left, but it must be somewhere close to two a.m. by now. Michael will have awakened at least once or twice in the span of time you’d left, and certainly now he’s asking around about your whereabouts--presumably impolitely.
Presumably with threats and torture, if his cousins had received a call.
You try to care about the people who may have been hurt in your wake, but the fog that’s come to muddle your mind is making sympathy difficult. The rich, sweet taste is still on your tongue, and you wonder vaguely if your mouth is stained red at all.
Jewelry clutters and chimes on the dance floor, women’s bracelets and earrings and even men’s stopwatches jingling around the room. Some men, few and far between in the effervescent club, idle about with their canes, abrupt claps of solid wood against marble floor interrupting the beat of the song.
Behind you, that same clinking piques your ear in a steady rhythm, the pace surprisingly uninterrupted by the large number of people bumbling about. Though you haven’t seen the waiter with the cane before, his presence is uncomfortably close behind your back now. His hand reaches around, grasping the pair of yours in his own before his wine bottle comes into view.
“No--sorry,” you stutter, watching a bit flustered as the glass fills substantially, “I told the other waiter I don’t need any more.”
“Believe me, love, you’ll need another drink.”
You snap your mouth shut, eyes locked on the glass as Michael keeps pouring until the wine is level with the rim. He slams the bottle onto the table, trembling the surface so hard liquid sloshes out and onto the tan tablecloth.
He comes into view from behind you, and you draw a line from the clinking to the cane in his hand. You suppose you should have figured. Prior to leaving, one of the doctors seeing Michael had decided that he would soon be ready to walk, though with aid.
He sets the cane’s handle against the table before settling into the seat across from you. The lines in his forehead are angry and deep, especially in the dim lighting of the pub. Out of the pocket of his black overcoat, he pulls a pack of cigarettes, not bothering to offer one to you as he lights it with a match and adjusts himself. His mouth twists into a frown, and he hisses under his breath in pain.
One cloud of smoke floats from his mouth through his nostrils and then escapes in one long stream. Then he draws his eyes up, and the second his gaze locks on yours, you know you can’t run any longer.
You swallow. His eyes follow the movement, and when a flush crawls up onto your face, he inhales again.
“You found me.”
“I did.”
You fall silent, and an air of sobriety seems to clean out the fog in your mind. You can feel it now, the pounding heartbeat in your ears down through your fingertips. Despite the implications of his presence, you can’t help the comfort that buzzes underneath your skin.
Michael found you like he always did.
That was supposed to be a bad thing.
“Didn’t take you long.”
“You didn’t cover your tracks well.” He exhaled, two streams of smoke filling the air as he watched you. “The second you were mine, you were a Peaky Blinder. You left as a Peaky Blinder, so all eyes were on you.” His jaw tightened. “Perhaps you should have thought your escape through better.”
You pause, lips screwing shut as you traced with the rim of your wine glass. The room seems to have grown hotter, and for a second you feel like your breathing is far too audible. Underneath the table, a pressure against your knee causes you to flinch.
Michael crosses one knee over the other, a brow raised as his eyes bore into you. His stare crawls over your skin, claiming your face, your bare collar bones, down to the arms and then the fingers you can’t seem to keep steady. He’s unimpressed on the surface, especially with your performance tonight. Beneath all of that, though, you know he has some plan formulating in his mind. Perhaps it’s already in motion.
The look in his eyes is calculating, critical. As always, you feel as though he controls your next move. He was always so good at predicting you. That was how he got you in the first place.
He takes another drag and taps the ashes out in the tray set on the table, waiting expectantly.
“It wasn’t planned,” you look away when Michael scoffs, “if that… makes you feel any better.”
“Do you think it does?” he jeered, leaning back into his seat with a curled lip.
You shook your head. “You don’t even know why I left.”
“I have a few guesses, love, but please, enlighten me.”
“Do you remember what happened? Before I left?”
“Only the usual things.” He huffed. “You fell asleep, or at least pretended to, and when I did, you bolted.”
“Before that.”
His jaw twitched, and he dropped his crossed leg to the ground, leaning forward and smothering his cigarette out with a slam of his hand, every movement quick and violent. “When I told you I fucking loved you, was that it? Was that why you did it?” He reached out and tore the glass from your grasp, throwing it against the floor. “You think I’m some fucking monster for loving you, for wanting you for myself.” His eyes flashed with rage, and with his teeth bared, he spat, “You left because I love you.”
“I left because I love you,” you hissed.
Michael’s eyes widened just as yours did. His lips fell open, and all anger on his face softened and disappeared.
“W-what?” he whispered breathlessly.
While a breath caught in your throat, you felt a tightness in your chest fade away. The fog that seemed to swim around inside your head for the last hour had finally dissipated, and you could clearly feel the regret clawing at your heart while battling another emotion.
“It’s not right—it’s wrong. So fucking wrong.” Tears begin to prick at your eyes, and you try to fight them away with the pressure of your palms.
“That’s why you left.” Michael sounded in a daze. “Because you love me.”
You stayed silent, battling a headache as the tears finally fell. It was hard to breathe, but at the same time it was as though you’d caught the first breath of fresh air in weeks.
Fingertips grazed your wrists, peeled your hands from your eyes.
“You really love me?” he asked quietly, almost desperately.
You fell back into an old habit, the words I hate you grazing your lips, but even the thought of letting them fly pained you as much as you knew they would hurt him.
God, you didn’t even want to hurt him. You loved him.
“This is so fucking wrong,” you muttered again, a sob almost following.
All it took was a smile on that fateful day.
You saw the cute boy—man—on the street, the one whose eyes were watching you with fascination, and you’d smiled back.
The next time you saw him, he was breaking the glass of your bedroom window, fumbling to get inside and barely snagging your ankle when you’d tried to flee.
It’s all so wrong.
Until recently, you could still feel it, that chain around your wrist, like a phantom that haunted you every other day you’d fallen asleep in the chair at his hospital bedside. The one he used to keep you in his bed, his home, the one that stopped you from fleeing and made it so that all you’d known for months was Michael and his overbearing, delusional love for you.
You couldn’t even feel that anymore. He’d finally gotten through. He won.
So, so wrong.
Michael caressed the skin of your wrists, pulling your hands closer and littering kisses along your palms. “Love, you’re perfect, do you know that?” His lips ran along your fingertips. “Just perfect,” he hummed.
He rose to his feet, releasing one of your hands to grab his cane before rounding the table toward you. Beneath his shoes, broken glass crackled.
Using the hand in his grip, he lifted you to your feet.
“Let’s get out of here, love. Come on,” he released you and instead placed a hand on the small of your back. “I have a cab waiting outside. Let’s get home.”
Michael ushered you past the swaying, sweaty crowd, out from underneath the smoke that hung in the air of the club, and into the clean, cold atmosphere of the outside. You barely registered the nodding of the club bouncers at Michael, nor the familiarity of your cab driver’s face as he led you into the back seat, his long coat draped over your bare shoulders.
On the way back to Birmingham, Michael never stopped touching you. Either his hand held yours, or his arm was wrapped around your waist or shoulders. One of his knees always pressed against one of yours, and when you dropped your head onto his shoulder, his head leaned atop yours.
When exhaustion began to nip at your fluttering eyelids and softened your mind, you lifted your head to look at Michael. He stared back, blue eyes wandering adoringly over your face. “What’s wrong, love?”
You bit your tongue, wanting to restrain the gentle pulsing in your chest in some way, but you couldn’t help it. You can’t stop how it slowly overtakes your senses, especially when Michael raises a hand to cradle your cheek, thumb caressing your bottom lip.
“I love you.”
His hand begins to tremble against your skin, and his lips twitch into a smile as pure reverence floods his vision. “I love you too,” he breathes.
And when he rushes forward to press his lips to yours, you wrap your arms around him openly, hold him lovingly. He accepts everything you give him, every whine, moan, and whimper, and in return he worships your body with his hands, petting and stroking and clutching onto you with every fiber of his being.
“I won’t let you go again,” he murmurs against your lips, and his arms tighten around you. “I can’t lose you anymore.”
“It’s okay,” you cup his face, pulling him impossibly closer. “You found me.”
Can i be tagged in Reborn please? ♥️
Of course my friend🙏I got u💜
*GIF not mine*
Request: Uh hi I don't know if I had already asked this but I was wondering if you could do Garou with a s/o who is Bang's granddaughter who knows the same level of martial arts that Bang does.
Summary: You were interested in Garou ever since he stepped foot into your grandfather’s dojo. But after he attacks the others and gets expelled, you have to try and forget every emotion that’s ever festered for him over the years.
A/N: Sorry, I went a little overboard. But I loved this idea so much, and thank you for the request! Dear God, I hope and pray this one posts. (Edit: GUH I dont know how to post thisssss) Anyways, hope you like it!
Word count: 3145
You’ve watched him for years, and over that time you had grown to admire him. Grown to admire his ambition for power.
***
“Teach me how to fight!” the white-haired boy demanded. He was roughly your age, maybe a year older, but as you watched from behind the sliding door of your grandfather’s dojo, you couldn’t help but gasp at his words. Bang, however, only smiled.
“Okay, you can train alongside my granddaughter in the back during classes. She can teach you many things, and help you when necessary.” You preened at his praise and stepped into view, only to flinch at the snarl the new boy threw you. Well he’s mean.
The next day, whenever you commented on his amateur form, Garou would sneer at you and deny your words. After Bang had backed up your claims several times following this, however, the boy began to lower his walls, only slightly, but enough to trust you.
Months after that, the two of you became great friends, and harbored elementary crushes on one another like most at that age would.
“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” you both shouted, Garou squealing after you smack him on the head viciously.
“That hurt, YN!” You giggle.
“It’s supposed to!” He glares at you playfully before attempting to tackle you, only for you to kick him back harshly into the dojo walls mid-laugh. The crash causes everyone in the room to freeze and watch Garou wiggle himself out of the indent it had created.
“YN!” Bang’s shout causes you to jump up and stand at attention. “What have I always taught you.”
“Restrain and control are necessary for peace,” you recite like a prayer, keeping your eyes low in an attempt to ignore your grandfather’s disciplinary gaze.
“Good, now go help Garou wash up. And apologize.” You nod hastily and grab your friend’s hand, leading him out of the room.
“I’m not sorry, you know,” you smirk at him with mischievous eyes. The boy copies your expression with willing ease and chuckles.
“Are you ever?” he asks, and you proudly shake your head in response. “Oh, YN, what would your grandpa think if he knew?”
“Don’t be a snitch, Garou,” you scold, leading him into the bathroom and gesturing for him to give you his uniform to wash.
“I would never betray you, YN. But seriously, you gotta teach me that kick one day, it’s super powerful!” He trembles with excitement while shimmying off his karategi and handing it to you.
“I-I don’t know. My grandfather has been teaching me since birth, I wouldn’t know where to begin with you.”
“Ugh,” Garou huffs irritably, “that old man has never been willing to show me anything more than the others. How do I-...” he trails off while staring at you, obviously plotting something.
“I don’t like it when you think, Garou, it usually ends badly.” His lips slowly curl up into a sly grin.
“YN,” he drags out your name with a pleading expression, “could you be the best girl in the world and ask your grandfather to help me get stronger?” You raise your brows at him and cross your arms.
“Garou, you know we practice restraint here. It’s all about using our opponent’s strength against them, not always using our own.” His Adam's apple bobs before he nods his head frantically.
“Yeah, that’s what I meant. I want to learn to get better at… you know, that stuff.” He was your best friend in the dojo, and you always had a soft spot for him. You suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask Grandpa Bang to help him. Plus, his puppy dog eyes were killer.
“Ugh, fine!” You wave your arms at him before dropping them at your side, giving in. “I’ll do it-”
“Thanks YN, you’re the best!” Garou engulfs you in his arms and squeezes you tightly, choking the air right out of you. But he was so warm, and you couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged you. So you didn’t resist his grip.
“I am the best,” you grumble, and Garou laughs before holding you tighter.
***
Unconscious bodies of people you had known since you were a baby were scattered all over the dojo floor. Your friends. As you returned to the training room of the building, you gasped at the sight of them all, and whimpered at the figure standing in the center of it all.
“You’re all so weak,” Garou kicked the body next to him away before observing the rest. “To think I ever had to train at the same level as you numbskulls.” He sneered cruelly at every single one of them, not minding to step on a few hands on his way to the exit.
“I’ll never get stronger here, learning restraint and all that other bullshit.” He whipped open the doors before stopping at a small voice.
“Garou,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. At some point in the ten years that you had known him, he had changed drastically. He had grown mad with a hunger for power, and every spar session he had with the others became serious and bloody. It seems today he had finally snapped.
“What have you done?” Your vision blurs as your cheeks dampen. Your whole body is trembling, not only with fear but with utter, complete betrayal.
Garou doesn’t say a word. The lines on his forehead deepen and his eyes sadden, looking away to avoid your wounded gaze. In an instant, his form disappears out the door, and at the same time a presence arrives behind you.
“He became corrupt,” your grandfather solemnly states behind you, setting a comforting hand on your shoulder. “He grew obsessed with gaining power, and now he is expelled from this dojo forever.” You blink rapidly to dry the wetness of your eyes, but your cheeks are still stained. How could he? You scrunch up your nose to hold back another flow of tears. Why did he have to do this? Your efforts fail.
“I’m sorry, YN.” Bang has always been a strict grandfather. Never showing physical affection, always done through praise of your abilities and gentle smiles. So when he pulls you into a once-in-a-lifetime hug, you can’t help but break down into convulsing sobs in his arms.
Why wasn’t I enough to stop him?
***
Power had always come easy to you. It flowed through your blood, literally. Your grandfather’s genes had influenced you to become a strong, capable person. But you didn’t care to nurture that power after what Garou had done. From that day forward, you took one section of Bang’s guidance and transformed it into a future job prospect. You wanted to be a teacher, but not in the dojo.
However, you were still only in high school, so you held onto that dream and began a job as a babysitter.
“Tareo!” You searched high and low for the child. Every inch of that playground had been scoured by you.
Where is that little bastar- I mean, wonderful little biscuit.
Using rude names in reference to others was a hard habit to break, but necessary for how often you found yourself around children. You had gotten it in your time around him, always hating on others and being distrustful of them. In the time that Garou had left your life, you realized how much of an effect he had on you in your younger years. He had been, after all, your only friend.
“Tareo, where are you?!” you shouted, checking under the slide for the third time. You groan aloud when you come up empty, receiving weird stares from the rest of the park’s patrons.
“I’m not a bad babysitter, I swear,” you laugh nervously to the crowd of parents and kids, “the boy is just a little rat-” you cough awkwardly, “I mean, fun child.” Smiling sarcastically, you walk past the families who jump out of your path dramatically and try not to flip them off.
Maybe he was right. Humans are soft. Bunch of sissies can’t even agree out loud that kids are a pain in the-
“...and this one shoots bullets using a slingshot!” Tareo! You finally found him!
“Mmhm, interesting. Can I see the book?” A random man hanging around the child you’re supposed to be surveilling! Fucking wonderful!
“Tareo!” you push through the bushes and try to ignore the fact that there was a sidewalk five feet away, dusting off the leaves your sweater had collected. “Where have you been, kid? I’ve been looking all over… for… you.” Your semi-pleased tone dies off when you notice the man next to him. Your whole body tenses, rearing for a fight while you clench your jaw angrily.
“Aww, and we just got to the good part too!” He spoke, smiling pleasantly at you. On the other hand, his eyes held an emotion you didn’t care to identify in the moment. You were trembling under his gaze, not with terror, but with rage.
“Tareo, we have to go right now,” you seethed, curling your hands into fists while you stood frozen in place.
“Or you could join us, YN,” Garou suggested, relaxing a strong arm along the bench behind the child.
“Tareo, now!” you ordered, practically erupting with fury. The kid only sighed.
“Sorry, old man, I gotta go. See you next time!” Tareo cheered, hopping off the public seat and stepping in your direction.
“Bye bye, twerp.” Garou smugly waved and you sneered at him, snatching Tareo’s hand and dragging him away. “Good to see you again, YN!” he called after you. This time, you didn’t hesitate to show him the bird, much to the horror of the parents around you. Gasps mingled with Garou’s chuckle in the distance, and you tried not to revel in the nostalgic sound.
***
Grocery store sales attracted you and your grandfather like a fly to a piece of crap. Sadly, Bang had to stay behind today to teach a class, but said you were free to go without him. Occasionally, you would help him train the younger students at the dojo, but you tried to avoid doing it for too long, not wanting to remember a damn thing about him.
“Ooh, Genos look! Eggs are on sale for cheap!” You tried not to stare at the bald man and his cybernetic friend beside you while you grabbed your own carton and tossed it into your basket.
“Excellent find, master.” Master? “Eggs also promote healthy hair growth.” Oof.
“I didn’t say it was for my hair!” You snickered all the way to the checkout line, hoping the bald one hadn’t heard you. You were dreaming big, because when you had first heard the robotic blond’s comment, you had choked on your own spit.
“Twenty-seven, thirty-five is your total.” The cashier smiled good-naturedly at you, but her empty eyes whispered “kill me.” Giving her an awkward, apologetic smile, you held up the cash, only for a hand to reach in front of your own and hand her a fifty.
“I got it,” a deep voice sounded beside you. Son of a bitch! You glared over at Garou and gave him the most disdainful sneer you could manage. “And just my strawberry yogurt too.”
He followed you out of the store, ignoring every dirty look you threw at him.
“Not even gonna thank me for paying? Where have your manners gone, YN?” He shook his head and pursed his lips. All right, you could play along.
“I thought you hated strawberry yogurt,” you monotonously say, itching to sucker-punch Garou every passing second.
“Well, I did, but recently, it’s been uh… growing on me.” He gave you a sweet smile that almost stopped you in your tracks. Faltering, you return to your earlier pace and spot a dark alley up ahead. The sun was beginning to go down, so now was as good a time as ever.
“Cool. I like it too.” You speak distractedly, waiting for the perfect moment.
Garou sighs deeply. “I know, that’s why I started-” Now!
Nobody was anywhere in the nearby vicinity, so you swiftly upper-cut Garou with enough force to knock him into the dead-end alley. Tossing your broken bag of groceries aside, you clash with him just as he returns to his feet, blocking your punch in the nick of time.
“You son of a bitch!” you scream, delivering rapid kicks and punches wherever you can find an opening. “You evil bastard!” Blue mist begins to trail after every blow you deliver, and this encourages you to go faster.
“YN-” he blocks a rather sudden jab to his face, only to receive a kick in the no-no square. He keels over and groans painfully. “Fuck,” he mutters breathlessly.
You step back and gather enough momentum to deliver another roundhouse kick directly to the side of his head, watching as he goes flying into the brick wall of the side-alley.
“Rot in hell, you dickhead!” Your voice cracks and your eyes water. You hadn’t realized you were crying the whole time until you felt your soaked, puffy cheeks.
Garou, on the other hand, is twitching on the ground, fists digging into the asphalt to find enough support to rise once more, only to flop back on the ground like a dead fish.
“I certainly don’t miss that move,” the white-haired male chuckles, turning his head to spit out a loogie of blood. He lets out a loud groan before rolling onto his back, breathing heavily and letting out a small laugh every few seconds.
“Why did you do it?” you whisper, head ducked and staring at your shoes, “Why did you attack them?” Your words are shaky and unstable, much like your emotions in this instant.
“I never wanted to hurt you, YN.” He lifts his head to observe you before dropping it back down once more, losing energy instantly.
“Then why did you do it?!” you roar, eyes wide and watching him with pure, uncontrollable rage.
“Because,” he laughs bitterly, spitting out more blood before making eye-contact with you. His pupils are dilated wildly, almost completely blocking out the beautiful yellow that was once there. “You had it. Bang had it. His old brother, that bastard had it too.” He comes up to his elbows, leaning on one to run a bloody hand through his hair. “The power.”
“What are you talking about?” you beg, knees beginning to grow weak. God, you were worn out, not only from the fight but also from the conversation, both wreaking havoc on your emotional stamina.
“Water Stream, Rock Smashing Fist,” he wheezes out through crushed teeth. “You can take anybody’s power and use it against them.”
“Garou,” your voice trembles again, “you already have that. Why do you want more? What else is there?”
“You don’t know your own limits, YN! I don’t know mine either. Because we don’t have any.” You scoff brokenly, shaking your head and backing away.
“Garou,” you swallow around the lump in your throat, “your search is only gonna bite you in the ass one day.” With a bitter smile, you back away and leave the alley, not wanting to look at his bruised face for another second.
***
Only a month had passed since you had beaten the shit out of him, and a lot had changed in that time. Garou had tracked you down to your own house, begging, pleading for something you don’t even remember. Maybe he wanted forgiveness, or comfort, or help and healing.
That night, you provided it all. And he hasn’t left your side since.
“YN! You’re home!” you smile at the white-haired man jumping up from your couch and rushing to greet you with a warm hug.
“Yep, and you’re still here. What a shame.” You jab at him playfully and he sticks his tongue out at you before licking the side of your cheek with it. The reaction is instant.
“Gross, dude!” you push away his face and scrub your own frantically, “What are you, a dog?”
“I followed you around like a lovesick puppy for most of my childhood, what did you expect?” He nuzzles his nose against yours, pulling you closer via your hips and brushing a strand of hair away from your face. Every touch he provides leaves a tingle you find pleasure in easily.
“True,” you mumble, staring deeply into his eyes while he walks backwards, still holding you. You yelp as he falls back onto your couch, taking you with him. Giggling against his chest, you try to scramble out of his grip, but he squeezes the breath out of you to prevent an escape.
“Don’t leave yet,” he whispers against your neck, “I want to cuddle you. I’ve missed you.” You sigh happily at the feeling and relax in his hold, slipping your legs around his own to straddle him before resting your head on his warm chest.
“I was only gone for two days you know.”
“I’ve been missing you for much longer than that.” You rest your chin on his chest and stare up at him while he looks down at you. Your arms reach up and into his hair, combing through the white strands gently while his eyes flutter closed.
“I know,” you whisper. Your heart pains at the thought of losing him again, even after all the terrible things he has done. The truth was, however, that deep down he was still the boy who came into your grandfather’s dojo asking for revenge. He was still the boy who fell for you, and you were still the young girl who loved him at first sight. Even though he was kind of an asshole. “I missed you too,” you whisper hesitantly. Garou smiles with his eyes still closed, and he reaches down to brush his lips against your forehead tenderly. The soft caresses of his fingers up and down along your back contrast wonderfully with the firm muscles you’re lying on and running your hands over. Every divet of his begs to be memorized by you, so you listen in the silence of the room. One of Garou’s glowing, yellow eyes pop open, this time dilated from love rather than pain.
“You’re not gonna become one of those annoying heroes, are you?” You laugh whole-heartedly and turn your ear down onto his chest, listening to the quick thumps of his heart.
“I just might if I get to kick your ass again.”
*GIF not mine*
Summary: Terushima’s got your heart held in his hands. And your earrings stuck in his ears.
A/N: It was soft and cracky at first, but then it grew serious, so idk. I kinda like it, and I hope y’all do too! Btw, thank you so much for the support recently, it makes me happier every single day!
Word count: 1812
“Yuuji, I’m back!” You shut the door to your house and kick off your shoes, ready to relax the night away with a fun movie and a hot boyfriend by your side. His response to you is unsettling, however.
“You’re not supposed to be home yet!” What? Your brows furrow at the words and you set down the DVD you had bought for the night.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He doesn’t answer. The rest of the house is dim and the only visible light is coming from under your door, so you follow it. Ever so curious, you sneak your way up the stairs, cringing at every creak that occurs.
“Get out of me!” You can hear Terushima’s panicked whispers from inside your room. “Get out, get out, get out!” Oh god, was he cheating on you or something? In your own house? What a jerk!
“Terushima?! What are you doing?” You feel betrayed, but you needed proof before you could smack the shit out of him. He used to always flirt with other girls before he chose you. I should have known.
“I’m busy! Don’t come in!” Anger flooded through you. Now he didn’t even want you in your own room. You’re crossing the line, mister.
“What are you doing, Terushima?” Your shout echoes throughout the house and you slam open your bedroom door. And there, not here, there, he sits. Your blond, erratic boyfriend is slumped in the center of your bed, looking winded and terrified all at the same time. That wasn’t what caught your attention. It was his ears.
“Umm… nothing?” He nervously smiles at you before looking away, lowering his hands from the hoop earrings currently stuck in his pierced lobes.
“Pshh, damn baby you look good!” You burst out in laughter, watching the blush on your boyfriend’s face grow.
“Shut up!” He’s embarrassed, and that’s a new look for the playboy. Instinctively his hands slink back up to the hoops caught in his ears, hiding them from sight. Your giggles grow into breathless squeaks at this point, no different from the mating call of a desperate hyena.
“Ohhh my God, you are the cutest hoe on this side of the block! How much?” You collapse onto the bed next to him and he doesn’t hesitate to vengefully poke you in the side. You yelp at the tickle it causes.
“Sixty-nine bucks. Plus tips,” he miserably quips, standing up to look in the mirror on your wall. “Now help me get these stupid things out of me.”
“Hey wait a minute, hold on now. If it’s Barbie dress-up time, we gotta get the whole garb together-”
“Hush it.” He glares at you playfully before pulling at the silver circles with twitching fingers. You chuckle and hop off your mattress, coming to his rescue.
“I’m just saying I have some heels in my closet too if you wanna-”
“Shut up!” You snicker before swatting his hands away, inspecting the issue.
“Please tell me you at least cleaned them before you put them on.” Your squint at the swollen piercing before giving a swift tug.
“Of cou- OW SON OF A BITCH-rse I did, I’m not an idiot.” While stepping closer and redirecting his head closer to the light on your ceiling, you give him a doubting look. “I’m not always an idiot.” He corrects himself while rolling his eyes. Your triumphant chuckles are swapped out for a silent gasp when his hands land on your hips. Terushima raises his brows while his signature smirk grows. His thumbs lift your shirt little by little and caress the soft skin of your waist.
“You like that?” he whispers, leaning closer to your burning form. You nervously clear your throat and return to the task at hand.
“Of course I do. What I don’t like is the inevitable sacrifice my butter will have to make to unwedge my hoops from your ears.” His confidence never dies that easily, but his smug look drops and he pulls back slightly. It’s a small win for now. “What were you even doing anyway?”
“I was trying to….” His voice trails off into mumbles while he finds interest in your dirty carpet.
“What was that?”
“I wanted to…” he murmurs too quietly to hear once again.
“Excuse me?” You tug on the earring to grab his attention and he hisses at the sensation. His hands grip harder at your sides.
“I wanted to see what I would look like! You know… with them in.” His brown eyes strike through your own as he shyly awaits your response.
“And the verdict is…?”
His eyes glow proudly. “You have the sexiest boyfriend on the street.” The hotshot arrogantly simpers at you and you smile back before rubbing your nose against his.
“Yeah, I noticed.” You stick out your tongue at him before worming out of his grip and leaving your room. His heavy steps trail after you.
“Aww, no need to be jealous, baby.” Terushima’s reassurances are less than helpful, “I only got my eyes on you.”
“Good.” The sincerity in your usually-playful tone halts him in his steps.
“YN, I’m serious. You know that, right?” He grabs your hand and draws your attention to him just as you open the fridge door. A blast of chilled air ruffles the single blond tuft hanging down on his forehead and it almost makes you forget what you were doing.
“You want Tillamook or Country Crock?” You turn back to the refrigerator dismissively.
“YN-”
“This one’s fat free-”
“YN!” Two hands urge you to face him, both rough but tender against your cheeks. His eyes capture yours and he bites his lip apprehensively.
“Do you think we should melt them-” He pulls you into a bear hug and squeezes the sarcasm right out of you. Man, I was saving that up, too.
“Hug me back, coward.” There’s no room for argument, not that you wanted to resist anyway. You squeeze him back even tighter and fend off the burn in your eyes by pressing your face into his neck. Who knew you needed a hug so bad?
“YN, what’s wrong?” His arms slither around your back and his fingers crawl up into your scalp, scratching back and forth comfortingly.
“I’m scared.” Oh shit, tears.
“Why?”
“You hold my emotions in your hands.” Your fingers dig into his back harder.
“I won’t hurt you.”
“I know.” Your throat grows tighter. “But I’m still scared.”
“Why?” He repeats. His chin digs into your shoulder with every syllable, but you don’t mind.
“This is new for me. You’re new for me.” This was your first relationship ever, and it was with one of the most flirtatious, attractive, panty-dropping guys at Johzenji. He was dangerous.
“I won’t hurt you. You’re new for me too.” Your heart skips a beat before running a marathon, and you pull back for a split second. It was the same racing that occurred when you had heard him alone in your room. In that moment, you had been so afraid. Your heart had constricted the moment his voice worriedly spoke. Your chest had grown tight and you couldn’t breathe. It hurt to think he could hurt you, and that he held that power in that moment. But now, after his confession, you were both in the same boat, floating on trust alone. Your heartbeat quickens at his words this time not from fear, but from anticipation.
“My emotions for you,” his timid tone draws you back into reality. “They’re just like, really strong and that’s kinda new for me, and umm....” He’s grown shy and scared, mumbling like a nervous trainwreck. You understand the feeling and gently pat his back to regain his attention.
“I know. I feel the same.” You smile comfortingly at him, and the world that had been fading around you both returns in an instant. Your back is cold while your entire front is on fire. Why… “Oh shit, the fridge!” You whip around and slam the door, the mood temporarily dampened by your outburst. Terushima snickers at your panic until you return your gaze to him. His eyes darken and he bites his lip seductively.
“Do you want to-”
“I still have to get those earrings out of your ears.”
“Right, right. Priorities.” The swelling around the hoops is now an unsettling bright yellow.
“What the hell did you do, by the way?”
“I may or may not have not washed them-”
“You said you did!”
“I panicked!” You groan and shake your head at him. The butter in the fridge is just awaiting its fate, and as you bring it over to him, freshly melted, your boyfriend has the gall to speak up once more.
“So why were you so scared when you busted into your room? You looked about ready to bust a crime there, copper.” He raises a brow while nervously leaning away from the steaming bowl, only for you to tug him back forcefully.
“I was- STOP MOVING- I was scared you were cheating on me.” You shrug at your own blatant admission. Although the fear of him actually cheating on you one day is still present, the loving looks he keeps serving you even though you might just burn his ear off any second is making you soft.
“In your own house?!”
“That’s what I thought!” Terushima laughs and you catch a glimpse of his tongue piercing. Damn.
“OW!” Oops.
“Sorry.” You hastily pull back the scalding dish of melted butter and tug at the earring, whooping victoriously when it slides out. “Got it!”
“Holy shit, that hurt like a-”
“Next!” You push his head into the table and turn it to view the other ear. Totally ignored, he grumbles under his breath.
“Just be careful this time, damn.” You “mhm” distractedly and peek your tongue out of the corner of your mouth in concentration. “By the way, you know I would never hurt you that way, right-”
“I know, I know. But it’s just hard to believe that when you’re, you know, you.”
He scoffs. “And who exactly is ‘me’?”
“A player,” you respond simply before completing the same task but with faster, more experienced hands this round. Terushima’s silent in thought, and only whimpers once when it happens.
“I’m not like that anymore. Not with you. You know that, right?”
“Uh huh, sure.” You inspect his earlobes before grabbing a couple ice cubes and pressing them to the swelled piercings.
“What do you mean ‘sure’?!”
“Hey, I’m just saying, the bigger the hoop, you know?” You mockingly dangle the silver earrings in front of his face with a playful sneer.
“Oh come on!”
hii is the taglist for reborn open? if yes can i please be added to it? thank youuu 🥰
Yep, you’ll definitely be tagged in the next chapter!💜
*GIF not mine*
Summary: You and Nishinoya have some pretty weird sleeping habits.
A/N: Just some little shorts for my favorite boy bc he’s the best! My god, if you want to love life, please search up the weirdest things people have said in their sleep. You will die laughing. Anyways, please enjoy!
Word count: 1068
“DON'T FORGET THE APPLES!” You flinch out of your sleep to find your boyfriend sitting straight up in bed, eyes still closed.
“Yuu, what the hell’s-”
“GODDAMN GOPHERS… ate my… fucking carrots.” He flops back down onto the bed, letting out a loud snore as the mattress shakes from his fall. You lie beside him, eyes still open wide with fear.
“What the fuck was that?” you whisper to yourself, scratching the side of your head and watching Nishinoya warily. After he stays silent for a while, aside from a couple snores similar to a honking semi, you slowly close your eyes once more and cuddle back into his side, smiling when his arms instinctively wrap around you.
~~~
“Pizza.” Nishinoya’s eyes blink open and quickly adjust to the dark bedroom.
“Babe?”
“Pizza babies,” you mumble beside him, worming your way out of bed and blindly trudging out of the room with unopened eyes.
“YN?” Nishinoya huffs before clambering out of bed and following your sleep-walking path. “What are you doing?”
“SHHH!” you harshly hiss against your finger. “Don’t blow our cover!” Your voice is slow and mumbled, and you are visibly unconscious during your actions. Nishinoya covers his mouth and snickers while you stumble into the kitchen, hands feeling blindly for something.
“Hehe,” you giggle softly as you caress a watermelon before snatching it up and walking past your highly-confused boyfriend. He trails behind you as you step back into the bedroom and set it on the windowsill.
“YN, whatcha doin’ now?” He observes you as you pet the fruit like an animal.
“The cat likes to see the sun rise,” you smile blissfully, stroking the melon once more before stumbling back to bed and passing out in the middle of the sheets.
Nishinoya glances at you, then at the watermelon, then at you again. He rubs his temples and grumbles, “We don’t even have a cat,” before nudging over your body and falling into the bed beside you. He’s too awake now, so he settles for watching you converse randomly in your slumber until his alarm goes off.
“I have clown school tomorrow.”
“Oh really?” Nishinoya smiles at you.
“Goddamn Tina’s always late though. Fuck Tina.”
Jesus, poor Tina, he thought.
~~~
The comparative sound of a loud, rapturous trumpet echoes throughout your room, disturbing you from your peaceful slumber. The stench that follows urges you to flee the bed and air out the blanket.
“What the hell was that noise?” Nishinoya grumbles, opening one eye to look at you while you continue the necessary task. Your shirt is lifted over your nose to prevent further nasal contamination.
“You ripped ass.”
“Oh.” He nods before closing his eye and returning to sleep once more.
~~~
“Oooh, right there,” you whined. Nishinoya smiles in his sleep before turning and gazing at you.
“Right there, huh?” he eggs you on with a smirk. You nod and whimper.
“Mmhmm,” your voice is breathless. “Don’t move it.” His brow twitches in confusion.
“You don’t want me to move? At all?” You sigh happily.
“Yeah, keep it there.” Your nose scrunches up and you shiver while biting your lip. “Mmm, then put that one there.”
“There’s another one?” Nishinoya’s eyes widen. Who the hell were you also picturing while you were dream-fucking him?
“Yeah, there’s seven-hundred of them,” you scoff.
Suddenly, Nishinoya doesn’t want to play this game anymore. “S-seven hundred?” he hesitantly gulps, “What’s wrong with just having the one?” He’s not sure if he wants to hear the answer.
“If you’re gonna whine so much, then don’t help me build my fucking puzzle, Noya.”
~~~
“I don’t wanna die.” Your eyes fly open and you groan. It’s 4 am, what now? “I sometimes wish I’d never been born at all…” your boyfriend’s voice trails off and he begins to hum under his breath to a random tune. It was vaguely familiar to you, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it. Then his tempo sped up and his hands began to pat the mattress rhythmically.
“I see a little silhouetto of a man,” Nishinoya suddenly speaks up once more.
“Bum, bum, bum, will you…” he slows down once more and you think his solo is finally finished, thank God.
“THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTNING, VERY, VERY FRIGHTENING, ME!” You screech in terror at his sudden outburst and roll off the bed. The room grows silent while you stare at the ceiling on the cold, wooden floor. Then your boyfriend’s head pops into view after he groans, finally, finally awake.
“YN?” he asks in a gruff tone. Although you want to revel in his husky morning voice like you normally would, you’re currently busy being totally pissed off at him.
“Yes?”
“What are you doing on the floor?” Your eye twitches at the question.
“It looked lonely.”
~~~
“Hey YN!” Tanaka waves at you while you enter their gym just as they finish practice. He jogs over to you and Nishinoya spots his actions in the distance.
“Tanaka, no!” Your boyfriend sprints towards you and his friend, but he’s not fast enough this time.
“Did you know he screamed out your name in the middle of our overnight stay at the volleyball camp?!” Tanaka erupts into cackles and holds his stomach while you giggle along with him. Nishinoya tackles him to the ground before popping up in front of you and pointing an accusatory finger.
“Don’t you dare laugh, we both do some weird-ass shit!” he warns, throwing a warning glare at Tanaka when he begins to howl happily at the information.
“I’m not surprised, honestly,” you shrug, stepping closer to your boyfriend and holding his hand, “I’m more flattered than anything, I promise.” You give him a loving smile and Nishinoya returns the expression.
“I’m glad,” he draws you closer to you before whispering, “Now how about I help you return the favor.” You bite your lip and nod, following as well as you can while your energetic boyfriend hastily leads you home.
“OH YN!” A familiar voice mockingly moans in the distance.
“Shut up, Tanaka!”
Hey, I don't know if I sent this already (if I did, I'm sorry), but do you still write for OPM?
Nah, you only sent this in once, so you’re totally fine👌 I do still write for OPM, but my request box is currently closed💜
Side note: if you do send in a request, that’s totally okay. I’m just trying to balance out my life and this blog right now, so it will take me a while to get to your request and get it out.
Bokuto, looking at conditioner in the store: “Apply generously”? Interesting.
Bokuto, in the shower two hours later: HERE YOU GO HAIR. YOU DESERVE ALL THE CONDITIONER IN THE WORLD BECAUSE I LOVE YOU
Bokuto: TAKE SOME MORE, BECAUSE YOU DESERVE IT
Bokuto: I WOULD GIVE YOU THE WHOLE BOTTLE IF YOU WANTED IT
Can we maybe get a part 2 of the yandere Garou 'the gift-giver' fic?? I love how you write him!
This is so sweet! I'm glad you liked the fic!
Sadly ma brain's got zero ideas for any further scenes for that fic :( feel free to send me ideas if you got any tho!
Guppy Love was A+++ and if u have time I’d be forever grateful if u wrote another story like it😔👌
Thank you😊, I will try my best🙃💜💜
No context just oreo. <33
Oop😳
Oreos really do make the best pets tho😌😌
Ps he’s laying on my stomach rn sos I can’t breathe
18+, minors dnrI write sometimes ig maybe, we’ll see🫠Masterlist . . . . . . Side BlogRequests? What requests?
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