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rejectedanimexp · 5 years ago

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Villain Eraserhead AU part 3

I had to rewrite this because I accidentally deleted the first half and I'm crying because it's not as good as last time. Anyway, there's some torture in this. Beware. Also, I can't believe I made 10 year old Shinso/Puppeteer so freaking mature.

Hizashi slowly opened his eyes as he woke up. He took a moment to remember where he was before yesterday's events came back to him. He pushed himself out of bed and sighed. He put his hearing aids and sunglasses on. He had no idea what time it was nor when the villain would come to check on him. He was awake now, and bored. He went to open the top drawer the dresser out of curiosity. He was startled to find a few shirts in it. His shirts. Checking the other drawers led him to find a few pairs of pants and boxers that belonged to him as well. Even his pajamas were in there. What was up with Eraserhead stealing his shit? Seriously. If it wasn't for the villain's streak of murder and ruthlessness, he would of thought he was an obsessive stalker villain. Speaking of which, how long did he plan to keep him here? Eraserhead said a day or two, but this amount of clothing was enough for at least a week. What was Eraserhead going to do to him anyway? He knew they were going to question him, but what else? Hizashi was startled by the villain's voice.

"Are you going to stare at the clothing all day or what?" Eraserhead questioned. He was leaning against the doorway, watching the hero with amusement. "How the hell you became a hero with such horrible awareness is beyond me. Now get dressed, Yamada. We've got things to do today."

Hizashi looked at the villain warily before grabbing a grey shirt and black pants. He went to the bathroom before locking the door behind him. Eraserhead was not one to be patient with his enemies, and the last thing Hizashi needed was him barging in on him naked. Hizashi quickly stripped off his pajamas before putting his clothes on. Glancing into the mirror, he studied his appearance. He looked like shit. His hair was oily and in clumps from the hair gel he used to do her hero hair style. He looked like he could fall down at any moment. Hell, he felt like he would fall at any moment. The wax burns Eraserhead so cheerfully gave him yesterday definitely did not help at all. With a sigh he turned around to open the bathroom door. Eraserhead was outside it, standing as if he was ready to barge in.

"You're dressed, good. Now give my your wrists." Eraserhead held out some high tech cuffs that were black with lines of glowing yellow lights. Hizashi looked at them questionably. "They're made to limit your quirk to were you can tell but can still talk. Granted, it might be a little hard to speak, but you can deal with it."

Hizashi held out his wrists and Eraserhead put the cuffs on him. Hizashi let the villain tug him out of the room and into the living room. Eraserhead pushed the hero onto one of the couches.

"Now, Yamada. You got any food allergies?" Eraserhead asked.

"Huh?" Hizashi was confused.

"I need to know if your allergic to anything. I can't have you dying from food allergies. So food allergies, what are they?" Eraserhead restated.

"Um... I don't think I have any?" Hizashi responded in a quiet voice. He was having trouble being loud enough to be heard.

Eraserhead sighed. "Thats good. Makes feeding you a lot easier. I'm not going to have trouble with you eating your food, am I?"

"No, I promise." Hizashi replied.

Puppeteer came in from the door that didn't lead to the cellar. He was pulling a cart that had a bowl of miso and rice soup, a bottle of water, a bucket of iced water, a rag, a cup with pills in it, and burn cream. He brought the cart over to them.

"I'm going to go set up for the interrogation in the cellar."

"Okay, we'll see you later." Eraserhead responded.

Puppeteer left the room and Eraserhead grabbed the pills and water and held them out to the hero. "Pain killers, take them. They'll help with the pain from the burns you got yesterday."

Hizashi grabbed the pills and water and took the pills. He didn't realize how thirsty he was till he took that sip of water. He ended up gulping down the rest of the water.

Eraserhead handed him the bowl of miso and rice soup. "You better eat it all. This is all you're getting til later."

Hizashi nodded before taking a bite of food. He was suddenly aware of how hungry he was and scarfed down the food. His need to eat overriding his need for manners. Eraserhead was amused by his eating habits. That jerk. Hizashi hesitantly held out the empty bowl to the villain. Eraserhead took the bowl before grabbing the rag.

"Yamada, pull up your shirt and lay down. I need to properly clean your burns." Eraserhead ordered.

Hizashi repositioned himself so he could lay down. He then pulled his shirt up to his chin and held his arms up to keep them away from his chest. Eraserhead gently wiped the burns clean.

"Thankfully, for you, the burns aren't that bad. Only one or two of them might blister. Overall, you were lucky. Next time, I'll make sure to leave you something to remember me." Eraserhead informed him.

Eraserhead then put the rag up and grabbed the burn cream. He carefully applied the cream to the burn. He then helped the hero sit up so he could wrap his burns in gauze. Hizashi had to hold his shirt to keep it up. His whole chest ended up being covered in gauze. Hizashi let go of his shirt.

"Well, Yamada, we've got an interrogation to get to." Eraserhead beamed as he roughly yanked the hero to his feet and dragged him to the cellar.

Hizashi was forced into a chair and his cuffs were attached to the table. Where'd they even get the police table? The two villains sat across from him.

"Now, Yamada. Tell me what you know about the Red Demon drug ring." Eraserhead commanded.

Hizashi looked away defiantly. He couldn't tell them. That's against hero protocol. And what if he knew too much? Southgate put him in danger?

"Yamada... tell me what you know." Eraserhead restated.

Hizashi glanced down at his hands and shook his head.

Puppeteer sighed loudly. "Stop being so stubborn, Present Mic. It doesn't matter how much you know, seeing your hero friends are going to have to drop the Red Demon case anyways if they want you back. So be reasonable and tell us what you know. It's make things a lot easier if you'd just tell us."

Hizashi was shocked. He didn't realize one of the demands that were made in order for him to be returned was the closing of the Red Demon case. He let out a shocked "what?!" His eyes glazed over.

Puppeteer grinned. 'Hook, line, and sinker.' He fell straight into his quirk. "Got him. Now tell us what you know about the Red Demon drug ring."

Hizashi answered, "They sell Trigger and narcotics that make people compliant. They are also using a bakery as a front. They have been trying to overthrow the Yakuza. They killed two pro heroes last week. They also are rumored to be run by a bigger power in the shadows. I now believe that power is you two."

Puppeteer released him from his quirk. "Thank you for your oh so willing cooperation."

"What... how?" Hizashi was confused.

"It's my quirk. It makes info gathering a lot easier." Puppeteer looked at Eraserhead. "We're done here. Anything else you want to ask him?"

Eraserhead studied the hero in front of him who was looking at his hands awkwardly. "I want to know who is currently investigating me."

Hizashi eye's widened and he shook his head. He couldn't answer that! He'd be putting his coworkers in danger! That's a major no no in the hero business.

"Yamada, I asked you who is investigating me." Eraserhead growled.

"I... I can't answer that." Hizashi sighed.

"I just want to know who I need to scare away. So tell me what I need to know." Eraserhead asked.

"I don't really know anyway. I don't pay much attention to that stuff." Hizashi responded nervously.

"Don't lie to me, Yamada. I know you know. Don't make this harder than it already is." Eraserhead seethed.

Hizashi glared at him stubbornly.

"I don't think he's going to cooperate " Puppeteer sighed.

"You're right. Puppeteer, go get my toys." Eraserhead commanded.

While Puppeteer was collecting whatever Eraserhead wanted him to get, Eraserhead unhooked Hizashi's cuffs from the table and dragged him over to a hook that was hanging from the ceiling. He forced Hizashi's cuffs onto the hook and pulled out a remote. Pushing a button, the hook slowly rose closer to the ceiling till Hizashi was standing on his toes.

"Last chance to tell me what I want to know before we get started." Eraserhead warned him. Hizashi defiantly glared back. Eraserhead punched him in the gut. "Fine. Be that way."

Puppeteer pulled the torture weapon cart over to them. "I wonder if you can make him yell even with those quirk dampening cuffs on."

"Guess we'll have to find out, won't we?" Eraserhead grinned.

Eraserhead grabbed the baton and swung at Hizashi's stomach. Hizashi bit back a painful shout. He then swung twice more, hitting the hero's back this time.

"Tell me what I want to know." Eraserhead commanded.

Hizashi glared defiantly once more at the villain. Eraserhead beat the hero with the baton for the next couple of minutes, getting rougher every time Hizashi refused to answer. He aimed for the torso and legs mainly. Hizashi was simply hanging by his cuffs now. Eraserhead put the baton down and picked up the electric escrima stick. He jabbed it into Hizashi's side and shock him. Hizashi coughed painfully.

"Just tell me who's investigating me." Eraserhead sighed

Puppeteer urged, "stop trying to be such a hero. We will find out what we want. Whether you're beaten black and blue or worse, in a coma. It's up to you really. Just give up already. Do I have to bring your little brother into this?"

Hizashi, who lost all sense of rationality when his little brother was threatened, snarled, "Why you-"

Puppeteer grinned. "Got him again with my quirk. Now tell us who is investigating Eraserhead."

"Endeavor, Loud Cloud, Gran Torino, Sir Nighteye, Nezu, and Midnight are investigating Eraserhead." Hizashi responded in a small, hoarse voice. His voice was almost too quiet.

Puppeteer released him from his quirk. "Now, was that so hard?" He looked towards Eraserhead. "Should I call the doctor?"

Eraserhead studied the hero in front of him. Hizashi's body was limp. He was too tired to stand on his toes. His breathing sounded raspy and he was wheezing. He was bleeding a little, not that you could tell with the dark clothing. Eraserhead knew he had to have at least a cracked rib from being hit by the baton repeatedly. The hero would most likely be bedridden if he didn't get medical attention. That would get in the way of his plans if he needed the hero.

Eraserhead relented. "Fine. Call the doctor. But make sure he keeps his trap shut."

"Okay, Nii-San. Need anything else?" Puppeteer asked.

"Bring a bucket of water, a rag, and a bottle of water." Eraserhead answered.

Puppeteer left and Eraserhead went to the back of the room to find a cot. He brought the cot over to the hero. He then pulled out the remote so he could lower the hook and unhook Hizashi's cuffs from it. He then picked up the hero and laid him on the cot. Hizashi quietly watched the villain, too tired to even do anything else. Eraserhead went to the back to grab a blindfold so Hizashi wouldn't see the doctor's face.

Eraserhead held out the blindfold to where Hizashi can see it, and said, "I need to blindfold you so you don't see the doctor's face."

Hizashi let out a quiet okay. Eraserhead helped him sit up so he could tie the blindfold on. He then helped the hero lay back down. Eventually Puppeteer came back with a bucket and placed it down next to the cot.

"I'm going to go back for the water. The doctor should be here soon. He was down the street when I called." Puppeteer informed Eraserhead. Puppeteer left the room to get the water bottle and came back a minute later. "Here you go. I'm going to go wait for the doctor at the entrance now."

Eraserhead sighed. The doctor was not going to let him live through this. Usually he killed heroes, yet here he was trying to get one healed. Dr. Reversal was going to scold him for sure. The doctor showed up ten minutes later, and was indeed annoyed with Eraserhead.

"Eraserhead, what the hell? Since when did you let your hostages live?" Dr. Reversal exasperated.

"He's not that much of a threat to me, and I needed leverage against law enforcement. By using Present Mic, I can easily make them destroy everything they have on me. Besides, even though he's the must annoying hero in the world, he's fun to mess with. There's no other hero out there that will be as defiant as he can get at times. We had to use Puppeteer's quirk to even get him to talk. The torturing did nothing!" Eraserhead explained.

Dr. Reversal huffed, "God, you could of just said he was your arch nemesis."

"Just heal him so I don't have to deal with a bed ridden hostage." Eraserhead pleaded.

"Alright, alright. Jeez." Dr. Reversal studied the barely conscious hero. "Damn, that's a lot of damage. Granted, it's not as bad as you usually go, but still."

Dr. Reversal had the ability to see any damage a person's body has by looking at them. He can also rewind the damage if it happened within 24 hours.

Dr. Reversal rewinded the hero's body to where it was before the two torture sessions he went through since he's been here.

"Well, he's as good as he was before you tortured him yesterday, so there's that. Please don't make this a habit. I'm a villain doctor, Eraserhead. I'm not supposed to be healing heroes." Dr. Reversal chided.

Eraserhead said, "I hear you. Although I can't promise it won't happen again."

The Doctor sighed before leaving with Puppeteer to the entrance. Eraserhead turned his attention to the now sleeping hero. Great. He should of asked Puppeteer for a change of clothes. The hero's current clothing was stained from Hizashi bleeding earlier. Eraserhead carefully took the blindfold off and then went to go get the hero some clothes. The hero was past out so Eraserhead wasn't that worried about leaving him unattended. Eraserhead went to the hero's temporary bedroom and grabbed a pair of green plaid pajamas. He then went back to the cellar. He put the pajamas down on the ground and took the off the quirk dampening cuffs before carefully strip the hero of his shirt and pants.

Eraserhead peeled off the gauze and dropped it on the ground next to the bucket. Grabbing the rag from the bucket of water, Eraserhead started to clean away the small patches of blood on Hizashi's torso and left leg. Thankfully the hero didn't bleed too much. Not that it would have mattered seeing Dr. Reversal would have undone the damage. But still. It made clean up a lot easier. As Eraserhead was finishing cleaning Hizashi's leg, the hero stirred a little. Apparently, having someone wip your body clean while your sleeping will wake you up. Or at least that applied to Hizashi.

"I'm surprised you even woke up." Eraserhead stated as he dropped the rag into the bucket. He then picked up the bottle of water. "You want some water?"

Hizashi coughed roughly before pushing himself up into a sitting position. Hizashi looked questionably at his now non-cuffed wrists and his lack of clothing. Why was he in his underwear? And why didn't he feel any pain from what happened earlier?

Eraserhead huffed, "you were healed by a doctor, so any damage from today and yesterday is gone. I had to clean the blood off of you, so the clothes had to go. The cuffs were in the way of the clothes. Now, do you want water or not?"

"Yes, water sound nice." Hizashi sighed.

"Good. Now drink this then get dressed." Eraserhead said as he gave the water to the hero. He then pointed at the clothes. "You're pajamas are right there. You're going to spend the rest of the day in your room to sleep off the aftermath of the doctor's quirk."

The next part will continue Hizashi's unwilling stay at the villain's base

#mha #present mic #villain aizawa #villain eraserhead #villain shouta aizawa #villain shouta #villain!aizawa #frienemies in future #arch enemies

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esoniko · 7 years ago

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I want to be able to walk up to someone and say, “Excuse me, but you look like someone I can despise forever. Can we please be enemies?” And have them say, “Yes,” because they actually get it.

#frienemies #friends and enemies #arch nemesis #nemesis #I hate you #let's be friends #let's be enemies #thoughts on life #writing

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bitchlessdino · 3 years ago

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i love you the mostie (m)

Pairing: gn!reader x lee chan

Genre: smut, fluff

Word count: 2.5k

tags: established relationship, childhood friends, frienemies, witty banter, shaved ice, chair stuff, name calling, cussing, i love yous, brief spanking, unprotected sex, creampies, whiny chan, good old fashion sex

author note: how is it that a brain rot will last for days but for me to write, it takes weeks. chan rot will keep me awake for years.

You had known Chan for as long as you were sucking on juice boxes. You pulled on each other’s hair, chased each other in the backyard, and fought over toys. You both knew the exact kind of things that would annoy each and made it a point to repetitively bring it up. This did not change when you grew up alongside each other, including through periods and surprise boners. You were the worst of best friends, you were worsties.

However, some things did start to alter as you grew feelings for one another. Chan, being cocky as he was, was reassured that you reciprocate his feelings seeing as dressed more provocatively when he came around. You were practically taunting him with your body and it’s a natural development, swaying its mind-boggling shape. Not to mention that you were not so subtle in your hint dropping that you basically threw out your thoughts in a karaoke battle at one point. He then took the matter into his own hands and confessed, admitting his feelings, to which you replied,

“Let me get back to you with that.”

The words leave your lips all while that sadistic curve of your lips formed across your face. He knew how you loved teasing, and you were thriving on the fact that he admitted to his feelings first. You did eventually update your relationship from worsties to exclusively romantic arch nemesis(es), but then not much changed. The main difference was you spent more time together, maybe held hands sometimes, and had the occasionally locked-on stare. The kind of stares that make you sweat on the back of your knees, or make you blink rapidly from their intensity.

But besides those things, nothing has changed. Nothing, you thought as you straddle in Chan’s lap as he typed his draft for his anthropology thesis. You shift in your seat, picking at strands of his messy hair until it is parted to your liking as the boy sighs in frustration. He had been working on it for days now, but none of the wording was to his liking, and it didn’t help that you were practically sitting on top of his boner right now.

“Hey dork, can you take a look at my paper? Let me know if any of this sounds right.” He nudges you, handing in his laptop.

You take it away from him, hands on either of his shoulders, glancing at the screen behind Chan’s head briefly before stating, “It’s trash.”

“Thanks, Shakespeare,” sarcasm coating his tongue, “What can I do to make it better?”

You place the laptop closed on the desk behind you, quickly turning to engulf his broad back, “Dude, I don’t know. I’m not good at writing.”

You hook your chin to his neck, arms tightening around his body, inhaling the woodsy sage cologne you bought him for his birthday. How it mixed with his natural skin felt comforting, huggable, loveable. He embraced you just the same, stroking the back of your head. You could feel him smile, pressing you close to him as he slouched in his swivel chair.

“I should’ve known better to come to you for internet and advice.”

“I know you came for food too, don’t you lie to me and yourself that the Chinese take-out wasn’t on your agenda, loser.”

He scoffs, “You bought that for me and you know it, even if you ate more than half of the fried rice.”

“Shut up,” you tighten your grip, almost choking him.

“I’m still hungry,” he whispers.

“Well, sorry for being a pig, asshole,” you respond quite brutishly.

“Not for that.”

His hand follows the line of your back, tracing against your cool skin, a shiver running down your back. Your breath hitches as he palmed over the surface, taking in his fingertips memorizing every mole or scar delicately as a feather. Your lips press in a firm line anxiously, wondering where this is all going. His breath heats up your neck, lips grazing your skin.

Salvia drops quickly down your throat. “W-What then?”

Chan chuckles, drawing his lips to your ear. You didn’t think you could get closer than you already were, your heart beating like a marching band in your chest, hoping he doesn’t hear from the proximity. “Shaved…ice…I want shaved ice.”

You huff, pulling away from him. “W-we can get that, stupid.”

“What are you nervous for, dweeb?” He laughs enough for his eyes to form crescents.

“As if, you narcissist.” Your body pulls away from his touch only to have him restrained in place, interlocking with your fingers.

His eyes flicker to your pink cheeks, pacing his breathing to steady a healthy rhythm the best he could and avert to your perfect supple lips quivering as you speak. “We can get shaved ice later.”

His hand curves up towards your cheek, the heat of your skin sensitive to his palms, tenderly observing your features. His thumb swipes across the skin under your eyes, brushing against your bottom lashes. Your mouth hangs slightly agape watching his eyelids weigh down to stare back at you. There goes the back of your knees sweating again.

He guides your head forward to meet his, the curve of your lips fitting his mold quintessentially. You breathe out a breath of relief, as if you were holding it back this entire time, and flutter your eyes shut. You balance your hands on either of his shoulders, tilting your head to the side for a proximal advantage point. Your torso closes up to his toned frame, losing your mind over the pillowy texture of his lips. You shift in his lap, erupting a twitch to the development in his pants, and Chan softly gasps.

“L/n, you—”

“Stay still,” You grasp his cotton fabric with much desperation. “I’m gonna ruin you…Lee Chan.”

Names were intimate between you two. Usually, nicknames, tauntings, and straight up insults were how you acknowledge each other. It had been like that for as long as you knew one another. You only called him by his name when you got serious or needy and vice versa. Then again, it felt natural to say the name of the person that brings the euphoric sense of climax. It was the perfect way it rolls off the tongue and was the only word comprehensively pronounceable at the time.

“How are you gonna do that?” He taunts with a crooked grin.

“Watch me.”

Chan drinks in your gaze, impossible to resist your advances, and only reacts as you unbutton his blouse. One plastic piece at a time, you pulled it off of him, adoring the skin underneath. He flushes under your touch, his hands tingling in anticipation. You kiss his chin and then up to his jaw. His soft tenor voice aching as you bit into his soft flesh, relieving it by licking the bruises.

Chan’s nails dig into your sides and your frame flinches. “Hey—” “Mmh, so…good…”

You bury your face in his neck, blushing from his commentary like it was strawberry picking season, and continue pricking his skin, not forgetting to leave him something to remember you by. His hands held firmly on your hips, grooving your body against his erection. You felt his length brush against your arousal. The stained thin fabric stuck to your sopping skin, craving a sweet sense of fullness.

You throw your head back, landing your forehead against his. Your perspiration merges together and all you think about is how every time you both get intimate, you both get quiet like how you are now. It was different from the snarky remarks that you throw at one another. All those conversations go straight out in the window when Chan gets his hands on you. Your hands find his bulge, creating a dome to play with its size.

“Your cock was just made for me, was it? Perfect to play with,” you rub along its shape, Chan’s whimpers sending you close to the edge, “Perfect to hold…Perfect fit to cum around.”

“Y/n, please.” He begs.

He grips around your torso, taking shallow breaths, his nails creating white crescents along your skin. His cock twitches in your hands, causing a sly smile on your face. “I want to play with you, Chan.”

“I-I want that too.”

You begin to unravel his trousers, pulling his length out from under his briefs. Chan stands stiff in your gaze, watching you rub your thumb along the slit of the head. It secretes a thin layer on the pad of your thumb, raging a bright red. You lick the corner of your lips, the heat of his cock mouth watering at the sensation.

You lean back into the desk, pushing aside your undergarments beneath your shorts, exposing your arousal leaking out of you. Chan gulps, leveraging your body with one hand, prodding your hole with the other. “Shit...”

You allow the full length you slip in your entrance, easing down and feeling him squeeze into your walls. You involuntarily moan, relaxing against Chan. You brush against his lips and he ensues a heated kiss. His hands underneath the fabric of your shorts, he digs into your flesh and holds your ass in his hands, following the pace of your motion. You bite into his lips, quickly licking away any soreness you left behind.

“You feel so fucking good,” Chan expresses, a hand prying behind you to ensure doesn’t slip out, and jerks himself back into you slightly.

“Mmh, Chan…so hot…fuck me…good…”

“You’re so good with your words,” Chan chuckles, lifting your body up and propping you for an advantageous position.

Your ass bounces staccato rhythm in his lap, his hands bring you up and down, your skin slapping against his harmoniously. Chan was finally the one in control. You clasp your hand to his cheek, holding your gaze with his effortlessly. His glass eyes just wearily stare up at you, weak to your every quality, but otherwise, he moves with determination. His body is hot to the touch, but comforting all at once, you feel yourself get close and more audibly incomprehensive.

“Hold on.” Chan manages to pick up and place your back against the chair.

Slouched in on the swivel, he takes your legs in the air and meets them with either of his shoulders. He pops his cock back in its designated place and flicks his hips. Your mouth opened ajar, Chan firmly grips your thighs and fucks you deep, throwing his head back. You’re disheveled this time beneath him, but not any less sexy than before.

“You’re so pretty,” he exclaims breathlessly, “you’re so perfect for me.”

He smooths his hand over the side of your thigh and slaps it underside, earning a yelp from your end and a fat red patch of skin. You grip his chair arms and whine his name relentlessly, getting louder as he pushes up against you. He narrows his eyes in your vulnerable expressions, red across you cheeks, and hair flying in all directions; you were all fucked out for him.

“You gonna cum for me? You’ve always been good at that.”

You chokingly nod your head, biting your lips until they bleed, and shutting your eyes as you drown in your own pleasure. A string of obscenities leave your lips and Chan holds on to you for dear life, his hips moving faster than the beat of his own heart. The sloshing of your arousal seeps out of you, dripping down the side of his legs, but even so, he persists.

The way he buries himself into you is overwhelming, yet comforting. He wouldn’t let you go no matter what the reason, even his own climax. His burning white spills onto the nylon seat, filling you to ensure you'd be seeing for weeks, his scent on you as if it were your own. He’ll make you become his as much as you made him become yours.

“…I love you,” he softly mutters.

You smile for the first time this session, his voice relieving your irregular heart beat, “I love you too.”

“Are we gonna order shaved ice now,” he offers half jokingly.

“Sure.”

After a bit of cleaning up, you both return to your lives of bickering and insults. This time it was about what flavor and the sizes of your dessert (Chan thinking a medium was too small for the both of you and you thinking a big was too large). The whole flavor debacle was another issue, but it quickly settles when you both decide to get your own small servings.

Chan seats parallel to you on the sofa with a healthy amount of distance, melting the mango shaved ice on his tongue while paying you no second glance. You are a mirror image of your partner, giggling and lost in your own world of flavors. You both moan simultaneously, erupting in laughter after hearing each other's questionable sounds. When you meet eyes, Chan’s gaze softens, and he huddles closer to you.

“…Can I have a bite?”

You scoff, “What do I get in return?”

“Mmm, a kith?” He purses his lips.

You bop him on the mouth with your spoon. A soft ‘ah’ escapes him. He stares at you with a sincere pained expression. “Are you actually my girlfriend, or a live-in bully?”

“You wished you lived here, come on.” You gesture to come closer as you scoop a spoonful of your strawberry shaved ice, shoving it into his mouth, giving him a brain freeze.

He taps against the side of his head and looks back at you with the same irritation. “You’re actually trying to kill me!”

You throw a fit of laughter watching his pain persist until you tug his collar and plants a warm kiss, melting the ice leftover in his mouth, the sweetness of the fruit bringing you both to pure domestic bliss.

Chan’s eyes jolted awake, reaching for the small of your back and deepening your frivolous gesture. When you part, you realize how good you have it. Chan to smile at you every day even in your most childish and pettiest of antics, to love and hold, to cherish and remember, to be the one by your side always.

“I knew you wanted a kiss.”

“I can kiss you anytime I want, stupid.”

#lee chan #chan #dino #seventeen dino #seventeen smut #dino smut #lee chan smut #chan smut #seventeen dino smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen

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hannahhook7744 · 2 years ago

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Stranger things ocs part 1;

Name:

Tiffany Esther Hammond

Born:

April 29 1966-1967 five minutes after Steve.

Age:

16/17 (season one)

17/18 (season two)

18/19 (seasons three and four)

Aliases:

Tiff

Tiff the Metal Head

Tiff "The Rat's nest" Hammond

Tiffany "The Dreamer" Hammond

Tiff "The Gut Buster" Hammond

The Angel of Vengeance

The Swashbuckler

Captain Elora Everstone of the Stormbringer (DND character)

The pirate (graffiti name)

Residence:

Forest Hills Trailer Park at Hawkins, Indiana

Family:

Unnamed Mother

Benny Hammond (father)

Diane Hopper (God mother)

Jim Hopper (God father)

Sarah Hopper (God sister)

Jane Hopper (God sister)

Vance Hopper (God cousin)

Griffin Stagg (God cousin)

Friends:

Steve Harrington

Tommy Hagan

Carol Perkins

Eddie Munson

Robin Buckley

Argyle

Fred

Gareth

Jeff

Chrissy Cunningham

The Party

Erica Sinclair

Murray Bauman

Joyce Byers

Other:

Nancy Wheeler (frienemy)

Jonathan Byers (frienemy)

Billy Hargrove (arch enemy)

The Harrington Parents (enemy)

Neil Hargrove (enemy)

Keith (coworker and frienemy)

Vecna (enemy)

Martin Brenner (enemy)

Dr. Sam Owens (ally)

Claudia Henderson (acquaintance/parenal figure)

Jason Carver (sympathetic enemy)

Connie Frazier (father's killer/enemy)

Affiliation:

Corroded Coffin

Hellfire Club

Scoops Ahoy

Family Video

Benny's Burgers

The Party

Occupation:

Member of the Corroded Coffin (-1986)

Member of the Hellfire Club (1980s-1986)

Employee at Family Video (1985-)

Employee at Scoops Ahoy (1985)

Waitress at Benny's Brugers (-1983)

Owner of Benny's Brugers (1983-)

Student at Hawkins High School (1981-1985)

Gender:

Female

Height:

5'4 1/2 (177.8 cm)

Weapon:

Sword

Pencil

Fork

Lighter

Matches

Shoe

Frying Pan

Hobbies:

Playing with fire

Stealing small things

Reading

Drawing

Fencing

Archery

Listening to music

Playing the keyboard

Eating

Trying to cook

Playing video games

Playing board games

Playing card games

Role playing

Treasure hunting

Hanging out with her friends

Making weird food combos

Bad graffiti

Dying her hair

Doing stupid things with her friends

Street racing

Swimming

Collecting things

Playing dnd specifically

Personality:

Creative

Sentimental

Street smart

Slightly rebellious

Bit of a chameleon

Anxious

Playful

Protective

Constantly confused

Bit of a day dreamer

Bit of a smart ass

Temperamental

Annoying on occasion

Secret delinquent

Well-liked

Good in school and around most adults

A bit bossy at times

Tomboyish

Insecure

Outgoing

Vengeful

A bit of sailor mouth

Kind of a loud mouth

Almost zero brain to mouth filter

Open minded

Eccentric

Impulsive

Has a taste for justice

Bit of a punk

Bit of a metal head

Fan girl before it was popular

Fears:

Arachnophobia

Atelophobia

Musophobia

Autophobia

Theme Song:

Fight For Your Right by Beastie Boys

Relationship status:

single but crushing

Story:

Stranger Us

Name:

Misa Rosè Buckley

Born:

March 19, 1971.

Age:

12 (season one)

13 (season two)

14 (season three)

14/15 (season four)

Aliases:

Misa Madrain

The ranger

Bow Master Misa

Miss Popular (given by Mike)

Frasier (graffiti name)

Residence:

The Buckley House at Hawkins, Indiana

Family:

Minerva (grandmother)

Richard Buckley (father)

Melissa Buckley (mother)

Robin Buckley (older sister)

Susan Hargrove (maternal aunt)

Neil Hargrove (maternal uncle via marriage)

Billy Hargrove (Step-cousin)

Max Mayfield (maternal cousin)

Friends:

The Party

Erica Sinclair

Steve Harrington

Argyle

Chrissy Cunningham

Tiffany Hammond

Bob Newby

Other:

Eddie Munson (friend)

Nancy Wheeler (acquaintance)

Jonathan Byers (acquaintance)

Jim Hopper (acquaintance/parenal figure)

Joyce Byers (acquaintance/parenal figure)

Claudia Henderson (acquaintance/parenal figure)

Billy Hargrove (enemy)

Jason Carver (frienemy)

Vecna (enemy)

Scott Clarke (former teacher)

Martin Brenner (enemy)

Dr. Sam Owens (ally)

Demogorgon (enemy)

Connie Frazier (enemy)

Troy and James (enemy)

Demodogs (enemy)

Hospital Creature (enemy)

The Flayed (enemy)

Jake (enemy)

Troy (enemy)

James (enemy)

Angela (enemy)

Affiliation:

Hawkins Middle School Cheerleaders (former)

Hawkins High School Girls' Soccer team

Hawkins High Drama Club

Hawkins High Band

Hellfire Club

Hawkins High School Band

The Party

Hawkins Middle School AV Club (formerly)

Occupation:

Member of the Hawkins Middle School AV Club (formerly)

Student at Hawkins Middle School (1982-1985)

Cheerleader at Hawkins Middle School (1982-1985)

Student at Hawkins High School (1985-)

Member of the Hellfire Club (1986-)

Member of the Party (1976-)

Gender:

Female

Height:

4'11" (149.86 cm)

Weapon:

Pocket knife

Screw driver

Bow and arrow

Hobbies:

Archery

Gymnastics

Cheerleading (formerly)

Acting

Singing

Playing the Clarinet

Soccer

Taking care of her cat

Playing dnd

Graffiti

Street racing

Drawing

Listening to music

Riding her bike

Running from the cops

Stealing

Personality:

Cheerful

Cloaked smart ass

Has a lot of attitude

Creative

Smart

Good at blending in

Annoying when she wants to be

Street smart

Eccentric

Rebellious

Confident

Fears:

Cynophobia

Theme Song:

Material girl by Madonna

Relationship status:

Single but crushing

Story:

Stranger Us

#stranger things oc #stranger things original character #stranger things moodboard #stranger things original characters #stranger things ocs #stranger things oc moodboard #stranger things #my ocs #my ocs stuff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger us

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shmorp-mcdurgen · 2 years ago

Note

What if they still have their tiny habits, Gabe gets up at like 7 am and Seth sleeps in till 10-11 am so there's a span of time where it's Just Gabe, or alternatively Just Seth. They get up and AUGH the body is twice as heavy bc Seth's not awake to help lift his part of the body. Also, if this is Before the loss of Sarah maybe it like. Prevents it. Sarah and her 2-in-one frienemy and dad.

"yeahh that's Sarah. We don't go near her on account of her personal 7-foot-tall-bends-metal-like-clay bodyguard."

YEAH like they still act like themselves and. Sometimes one of them is in control cause the others “asleep”.

Also I believe this takes place post fateful reunion, but it would be pretty cool if it was before and Sarah and Cesar just have. Their father figure fused with their arch-nemesis-

Very confusing at first I imagine

#asks are neat #goodness what to call this au au….#alt Gemini au

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mortimer-writes-sometimes · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request something where sans keeps making excuses to keep Grillby talking? And when confronted, he admits that he just likes hearing Grillby’s voice? 👉👈

Haha, so this was going to just be silly fluff, I swear, but... Look I swear it all works out and it’s really cute in the end. I hope you enjoy!

Talk to Me

Word count: 3323 Summary: Sans wants to hear from his boyfriend more, but he goes about it the wrong way.

“Hello Sans, this is Grillby. I just wanted to call and make sure you’re alright. It’s been two days since I’ve seen you at the bar… I asked Dogamy and Dogeressa if they’d seen you and they both said they haven’t. Are you ill? If you are, I could bring something for you and Papyrus, or- ah, well, I’ve been talking long enough. Forgive my rambling. Just send me a message to let me know you’re alright? I hope to see you soon.”

Sans let the voicemail play as he laid in bed, relaxing a bit. It had been months since Grillby left that message. Sans had some kind of flu and was bedridden for a week. As soon as Grillby heard, he came over with canned soup, cold packs, and audiobooks, giving Papyrus a break to rest and ensuring that both of the skeletons were well cared for. The audiobooks had been nice, but they’d been nothing compared to Grillby’s voicemail. When Sans heard it, it occurred to him that he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Grillby talk for that long in one go. The even rhythm of his voice was remarkably soothing. Sans had fallen asleep to that insignificant message more than once.

The skeleton felt a bit silly. He and Grillby were dating now. He had more than enough opportunity to talk to him. Something still felt off though. Even when they were outside the bar, Grillby was always a one-or-two sentences kind of guy. He never told any stories, he didn’t ramble on about his favorite subjects, and he never vented in length about his day. And then there was that phrase. “Forgive my rambling,” Sans muttered to himself, frowning. He’d heard that twice since he’d started dating Grillby, and something about it didn’t sit right with him. Speaking about dates with Grillby…

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Sans’s watch went off and he shot up. Shoot, he was late! Grillby had the evening off and they had agreed to meet up at the bar before going to MTT Resort for dinner. Grillbz made a reservation and everything! Sans hurriedly put on a black tuxedo-print shirt and then threw his freshly-washed jacket on top. That was about as close to fancy as Sans got.

Grabbing his phone, the skeleton took a shortcut to Grillby’s, where the bartender himself was waiting outside. Damn, he made Sans feel underdressed. Grillby had a black suit jacket on over his navy blue dress shirt, and it looked like he might have even ironed his usual bowtie for this. He was looking at his watch, making Sans feel a pang of guilt. This was what, the fourth time in a row he’d been late for a date?

Grillby didn’t seem to mind it. He glanced up and caught sight of Sans, smiling a bit. “I see you’re all dressed up,” he chuckled. “You look nice.”

“Not as nice as you, hot stuff.” Sans grinned, holding out a hand for Grillby. “Ready to go?”

Grillby nodded and took his hand. “Ready.”

Dating Start!

One moment, they were in Snowdin. The next, they were at MTT Resort, barely in time for their reservation. Sans had done a few comedy gigs at MTT before, so it wasn’t like it was a new place to him, but somehow going there with Grillby made it feel different. The lighting felt softer, the music seemed gentler, and when the two of them sat at their table, the smile Grillby gave Sans made the skeleton feel like he was dreaming. For the first time, MTT Resort Restaurant felt romantic.

“What are you thinking about?” Grillby asked, breaking Sans’s train of thought.

Sans chuckled. “You,” he responded honestly. “You make the whole room light up wherever you go.”

Grillby arched an eyebrow. “Well, I am made of fire.”

“Oh my god, you know what I meant,” Sans managed through his laughter. As he calmed, he gave the bartender a soft smile. “This is nice. I’ve been here a thousand times, but it’s different when it’s with you. A good different. You make everything better.”

Grillby blushed, smiling. “Sans… that was the sappiest thing I have ever heard.”

Sans grinned at his teasing. “Aww, you know you love me.”

“I do.” Grillby rested his arm on the table, opening his hand to Sans. The skeleton took him up on his offer and mimicked the gesture, holding Grillby’s hand on top of the table. Grillby ran his thumb over Sans’s knuckles, thoughtful as he looked at their joined hands.

Usually, from there, Sans would start the conversation back up with an onslaught of puns or start talking about his day. The skeleton’s thoughts drifted back to that voicemail. ‘Forgive me for rambling.’ Their talks were always pretty one-sided, huh? It didn’t seem to bother Grillby at all, but it bothered Sans. He wanted to hear his boyfriend ramble. He wanted to know what was going on inside the fire monster’s head. And, if he was being honest with himself, he just wanted to take a moment to bask in Grillby’s even baritone voice.

“What are you thinking about?” Sans asked.

Grillby hadn’t expected that question, looking up. “Us,” he answered simply, smiling a bit.

That wasn’t a satisfying answer! Sans pressed a little more. “What about us?”

“About the time we spend together.” Grillby met Sans’s gaze, eyes full of tenderness and beautiful firelight. “I have never felt greater happiness than I do by your side.”

Man, how did he manage to sound so romantic in so few words? Sans flustered, dramatically fanning his face. “I’m swooning. And you said I’m a sap? If I’m a sap,” he joked, “Then you’re the whole maple.”

Grillby chuckled. “So tonight’s joke theme is going to be trees, I take it?”

“You better be-leaf it.” Sans winked at him. “Hey, why do trees make the worst frienemies?” He waited for a beat, then said, “Because they’re the best at throwing shade!”

Sans sometimes wondered if Grillby would have laughed at that joke if it came from someone other than him. Whether or not he would, he was laughing now, and Sans wanted it to go on forever. Unfortunately, it didn’t. Grillby regained his composure and let go of Sans’s hand, picking up a menu. “While I hate to interrupt the pleasant-trees, we should figure out what we want to eat.”

“Heh, good one,” Sans mumbled with a smile as he picked up his menu. Aha! This could be the perfect opportunity! “You know,” he began, “I’ve been here for gigs, but I’ve never actually eaten here. All these fancy dishes sound super complicated. Can you explain some of this stuff to me?” Grillby was passionate about cooking, so surely he would have a few words on the matter. More than a few, hopefully.

Grillby glanced up over the top of his menu. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Uhh…” Good question! Sans hadn’t really thought about it. “I dunno. I’ll figure it out as we go?”

Grillby nodded and looked back down at the menu. “Alright.” He considered the dishes on the menu for a long moment. “What about the swiss steak? It’s a tenderized steak cooked in a pan with onions and tomato sauce. It appears in the recipe they use here they also add mushrooms. I can’t be sure, but as far as spices go I would guess- well. I’ve already explained the basics. Forgive me for rambling.”

“No no, you’re good! I…” Sans wanted to groan. Oh, come on! For a moment there, the skeleton had been able to get completely lost in Grillby’s voice, taking in every word. “I, um, I think that sounds good, but I want to hear about some other stuff first.” He scanned the menu, picking a random dish. “What’s, uh… beef stroganoff?”

Grillby tilted his head, locating the name on the menu with interest. “Oh, that’s another good dish. Stroganoff is made with small pieces of a marbled cut of steak, ideally sirloin or ribeye. The sauce is made with…” Grillby trailed off and adjusted his glasses. “Well, it’s a white sauce. It’s usually served over noodles.”

So. Freaking. Close! “Yeah, great,” Sans mumbled, looking for another food that might get the bartender talking. He’d seemed excited to share for a minute there, so why did he stop? It was so frustrating! “What about… how do you say this one? Cock-ow-vien?”

“Coq au Vin,” Grillby corrected gently. “It’s a chicken dish. The chicken is slow-baked with vegetables in a wine sauce.” He stopped there instead of going on as he had before. Darn. Operation Have-Grillby-Explain-The-Entire-Menu was a bust.

Sans ended up going with the ‘Coq au Vin’, mispronouncing it on purpose when he ordered so Grillby would give him that fond look of exasperation he loved so much. The skeleton chuckled and played innocent, shrugging. “What’s with that expression? I said it eggs-actly how you did!”

Grillby just rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I wonder why I ever chose to date a comedi-hen,” the bartender sighed, smiling a bit at Sans’s resulting snicker. “So how was your day?”

Sans shrugged. “Eh, pretty much the usual. Papyrus tried out that waffle recipe you gave him today. It was… interesting.” Usually, he would elaborate, but he had something else on his mind. Time for Plan B: Make Grillby the center of attention! “Hey, you used to live around here, didn’t you?” Sans asked, abruptly changing the topic. “What was that like? As a kid?” If there was one thing any monster could go on about, it was childhood memories. Right?

Apparently not. “It wasn’t significantly different from living in Snowdin,” Grillby answered simply, eyeing the water the waiter had brought him as if it were going to jump out of the glass. “Just warmer.”

And… that was it. That was all Grillby had to say about it. If anything, the bartender seemed to be talking even less than usual. Sans was starting to get a little frustrated. “I’m sure it was different. More monsters, the construction of the Core… C’mon, Grillbz, don’t be shy about it. What was it like?”

“Noisy.” Grillby pushed the glass of water a bit further from himself. “That’s part of why I moved to Snowdin.”

Sans picked up the distracting glass and threw it over his shoulder. “Well then tell me why else you moved to Snowdin. Lava to snow seems like a pretty big shift just to get away from the noise.”

Grillby was caught a little bit off-guard, glancing over Sans’s shoulder before meeting his eyes again. “W-well, I’m an adult. It’s natural that I would leave home at some point, haha…”

“Yeah, but don’t fire monster families usually stick close together?” Sans asked.

“That’s correct.” Grillby adjusted his glasses, gaze falling to the table. “But I chose to open a business in Snowdin.”

Well, now they were just going around in circles. It seemed no matter what Sans asked or what buttons he pushed, Grillby was going to give him short, distant answers. The skeleton was beyond frustrated. Was it so much for him to ask to hear his boyfriend talk for more than a few seconds at a time?! He sighed inwardly as an oblivious waiter came by with their food, setting it on the table and cheerily asking if they needed anything else before walking off. The food looked nice, but the conversation tonight was… well, kind of nonexistent.

An awkward silence settled over the table as the two monsters looked at their plates. Unsurprisingly, Sans ended up being the one who had to break the silence. “So… Looks good. Why don’t you eat some and tell me what you think?”

Grillby wordlessly picked up his fork, taking a bite of the steak he’d opted for. He noticed he was still being watched and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I-it’s good,” he mumbled. Did Sans realize his eyes had darkened? Was everything okay? The fire monster was starting to feel like he was being interrogated.

“Yeah? Care to elaborate on that?” Sans knew he was being pushy, but he didn’t know what else to do. He wanted to hear Grillby talk. He wanted to see him let down his guard and ramble for once. Just once, he wanted to be the one listening instead of the one doing all the talking. Was that too much to ask?

Yes. Yes, it was.

Grillby suddenly stood up, keeping his gaze on the wall, the floor, anywhere but Sans. “Excuse me,” he mumbled, “I need to step outside for a moment.”

Sans sat up straight, finally snapping out of his thoughts long enough to pay attention to his boyfriend’s body language. Grillby was on the defensive, tension evident in each flame of his body. Before Sans could say anything to stop him, the fire monster had rushed off, walking past him and exiting the building. Well, shit.

“What the hell just happened?” Sans mumbled to himself, going over the events of the evening in his head. Yeah, maybe he’d been a bit pushy with Grillby, but it wasn’t worth getting that upset over, right?

“What was it like?”

“Noisy.”

“Don’t fire monster families usually stick close together?”

“That’s correct.”

“Ah, well, I’ve been talking long enough. Forgive my rambling.”

“Forgive me for rambling.”

...Grillby’s been talking plenty, Sans realized, eye sockets widening. He’s been telling me he’s uncomfortable all evening. I just wasn’t listening.

Grillby sat against the wall outside of MTT Resort, sighing as he took off his glasses and hung his head. He felt so embarrassed. He just couldn’t figure out what he had been doing wrong, and if Sans had kept questioning him he was sure he was going to cry or yell or- or something unpleasant. It had been weird when Sans started asking about the menu as if he couldn’t read, but Sans was weird like that sometimes. It went from weird to uncomfortable when the skeleton started asking personal questions, practically demanding answers. The bartender wanted to answer them. It wasn’t fair that Grillby knew so much about Sans’s personal life and Sans knew so little of Grillby’s, but…

...well. The fire monster had his reasons for not talking about it on what was supposed to be a romantic date.

People talked to people. Grillby knew this. His patrons at the bar were always making small talk and rambling and telling their stories, and that was a good thing. That was how people got to know others and become friends. On more than one occasion, he’d find himself listening to a conversation and thinking of just the story to tell or just the comment to add.

On more than one occasion, he felt a hand on the back of his neck, shoving him down and reminding him that children were seen and not heard. Even as an adult, that inclination to only say what needed to be said and to say it as concisely as possible stayed stubbornly in the back of his throat, choking any stray chatter that might make trouble for him.

People talked to people. Grillby knew this.

It was just… hard, sometimes.

“Takeout for Gr- Grail-bee? Is there a Grail-bee here?”

Grillby put his glasses back on, looking up. Sans stood over him with a plastic takeout bag, the skeleton looking sheepish as he offered a smile. “Hey there, firefly. You okay?”

“I’m alright,” Grillby mumbled, moving to get up. Sans stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, sitting next to the fire monster instead. Grillby relaxed back against the wall, looking at the bag and immediately feeling guilty. “I’m sorry. I-” Grillby’s voice cracked and he took a deep breath, choking back the tears he’d been trying to avoid in the restaurant. “I ruined dinner, didn’t I?”

“No, no, Grillbz,” Sans quickly reassured, turning towards Grillby and putting a hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t ruin anything. C’mon, don’t cry- come here, it’s okay, I’m sorry.” He pulled Grillby into a hug, rubbing his back. “Shh, I’m sorry. I made you real uncomfy back there, and that’s on me. I should’ve been paying more attention.”

Grillby wrapped his arms around Sans, taking deep breaths. “Sans,” he finally mumbled, “I understand that you are curious about me and my background, but why were you so… insistent, tonight?”

“Weeellll…” Sans rubbed the back of his neck. “I honestly didn’t care about the question itself so much as I… wanted to get you to… ramble? You know, it sounds really dumb out loud, heheh…”

Grillby took a moment to process that, pulling away after a moment. “You wanted me to ramble?”

Sans chuckled nervously. “Yeah, I mean, I… I-i like the sound of your voice? It’s, um, calming.”

“It’s calming,” Grillby echoed, dumbfounded. All of that stress, just so Sans could listen to him talk for a few minutes.

Sans braced himself for the worst as Grillby lapsed into silence once again. He was going to be pissed, wasn’t he? “Look, I really am sorry, Grillbz. I don’t know what I was thinking, I just-”

Sans was cut off by a quiet snort of laughter. Grillby was… chuckling? Not just chuckling, he was laughing. He started to laugh and then couldn’t stop, resting his head on Sans’s shoulder as the fire of his hair danced with mirth. Needless to say, the skeleton was very confused. “So… Am I missing the punchline here or something?”

Grillby sat up, smiling at Sans with that fond, exasperated look again. “Sans, you numbskull… Why didn’t you just ask me to read you a book?”

Oh. Oh yeah. That probably would’ve been the easiest way to do it.

Sans groaned and put a hand to his skull, sending Grillby into another fit of laughter at the skeleton’s expense. Sans figured he deserved it, after all the pressure he’d put on Grillby that evening. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I’m guessing this means you forgive me?”

Grillby calmed down, smiling at Sans before planting a kiss on the top of his skull. “Yes,” he said softly, “I forgive you, bonehead.”

“Cool,” Sans chuckled. “Sooooo… If I were to ask you to take me home with you and read to me…”

“The answer would be yes,” Grillby said with a small smile, standing up and offering Sans a hand. “I’ll even let you pick the book. But first, you have to go for a walk with me. We can take a shortcut once we reach Waterfall, not a moment sooner.”

Sans took Grillby’s hand and stood, opting to hold his hand as they walked instead of letting go. “Wow, that’s sweet, Grillbz. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a crush on me.”

Grillby rolled his eyes fondly. “Good thing we both know better.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence, walking side-by-side through Hotland. Grillby looked around himself as they did, smiling softly. Usually, Sans would be the one to break the silence, if it needed to be broken. Well, it had already been a fairly unusual evening, hadn’t it?

“I used to walk to school down this road,” Grillby suddenly commented, smiling fondly at the memory. “My brother Cole always walked with me, just in case something happened. Of course, the only time something did happen, he was at home sick and I was walking to school alone.”

“Oh?” Sans looked up at him, smiling brightly. Was he dreaming? Or was this really happening? “What happened?”

“Well,” Grillby began, “They had just started construction on a new steam puzzle nearby…”

Another day, Sans would sit down with Grillby and ask him why he moved to Snowdin. Another day, Grillby would be ready to tell him everything. For that evening, though, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was which book Sans would choose and how many pages Grillby could get through before they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Thanks for reading! If you like this, consider reblogging/leaving a comment telling me your favorite part! If you want to send me a prompt, my ask box is open! I hope you liked this!

#undertale #grillby #sans #sans x grillby #sansby #undertale fanfiction #undertale sans #undertale grillby #dustyfic #ask answered

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made-me-deep-blue · 5 years ago

Text

high school au poppy x bea - things i want to tell you.

based on @somewillwin ‘s post: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/somewillwin/626841598185160704

tw; injury, hospital

In the span of about an hour, Poppy Min-Sinclair found herself in the brightly-lit hallway of Eastwood General Hospital, along with Bea’s parents tapping their feet and bouncing their legs in anticipation of the doctor attending to their daughter’s exit from the ward.

She slid against the wall and hugged her knees close to herself. She inhaled with counts of three, and shakily exhaled, gripping her arms as her knuckles turned white.

Never in Poppy’s high school life had she ever experienced this kind of a brawl during a football match, and Bea had to get herself injured in the process.

It was the most anticipated game against their arch-rivals in the Class AAAAA State Championships. Everyone in the state knew that Eastwood and Acadia had a history in their football matches, especially who Acadia’s captain calls “mad dog”, Brent Kaylen. The nickname is pretty self-explanatory, but he is the decoy of Acadia Academy’s football team.

“You will be careful, won’t you?” Poppy crossed her arms as she said, watching Bea tie her cleat’s laces on the bench in the locker room. “You know Acadia’s reputation, especially with “Mad Dog” Kaylen in the starting lineup.”

Bea scoffed, tucking her helmet under her arm and faced Poppy as she stood. Poppy had already gotten used to the height difference, but something was different with Bea today. It was as if she could see a menacing shadow of someone inhuman looming over her lean, well-muscled body over Poppy’s small stature.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Poppy,” Bea smiled softly, the corners of her eyes crinkling. She bent down and gave a small kiss on the shorter girl’s cheek. Thank god they were alone.

When the two girls walked out of the locker room and before they left to take their positions, Bea wore her helmet and looked back at Poppy.

“I’m a beast in this sport, remember?”

“...not like the mad dog, babo*-yah.”

Nearly half of Acadia’s boys got a red card and sent off the field after the brawl, along with some of Eastwood’s players too. Bea, unfortunately, knocked hard in the side of her scarred head and went in and out of consciousness before eventually passing out by the time the paramedics arrived.

Poppy had never screamed and ran so hard ever in her life when she saw Bea collapse.

Poppy had nearly dozed off when she felt something laid atop her shoulders. When she looked up, it was Bea’s dad putting Bea’s varsity jacket just in case she got cold because she was still in her cheerleading uniform.

“Come on, kiddo,” Bea’s dad smiled. “We’ll let you know how Bea’s doing when you get back, alright? Go freshen up yourself and changed, Poppy.”

The head cheerleader nearly burst into tears at his words, but managed a nod and hurried out of the hospital.

After a well-deserved, long shower at Bea’s place and changing into the clothes she had left in Bea’s bedroom (just in case she was staying over), Poppy clutched onto Bea’s varsity jacket as she walked to the ward with her eidetic memory.

“Naomi,” Poppy sighed in relief as she engulfed Bea’s mom in a bear hug.

“Oh, Poppy dear,” Naomi gave Poppy gentle pats on her back.

“How’s Bea?”

“The doctor said that there was no serious damage done to her old injury, but they still need to keep an eye on her,” both women looked through the window. Kevin, Bea’s dad, watching silently at her daughter, sleeping peacefully under the blankets. “Kevin and I will head back home first, we’ll leave you to watch over our precious girl.”

“Thank you so much, Naomi.”

Poppy walked in hesitantly after seeing Bea’s parents off, closing the door gently behind her. She dropped her schoolbag by the nightstand and plopped onto the cushioned chair opposite Bea’s bed.

“The things you’d do for the person you lo-” Poppy muttered under her breath, before stopping on the last word and thought back. “Do I…?”

The past year had been a whirlwind with Bea Hughes. From the cheerleader that would exchange snide remarks with the rookie football prodigy, she was now heads over heels for that same girl. They would be careful with how they were together in school; maintaining their ‘rivalry’ on campus, only to be affectionate when no one was looking and having a secret sign language between them that no one could decipher.

The spot behind the big oak tree behind the stadium was their favourite spot to be together, with Bea’s head on Poppy’s lap as they listened to their mixtape they made together.

It sure was the cliche popular girl and athletic jock kind of a love story, but Poppy and Bea hadn’t explicitly stated where they stood together in this relationship. Frienemies? Friends? Best friends? More than that? Do friends let you stay over when you have a family drama? Do frienemies even let you into their house?

Poppy pulled out her phone and played the mixtape and moved her chair to the side of Bea’s bed, laying her head on the lap.

The familiar tunes of their favourite song filled the air as the cheerleading captain left her phone on the bedside table and interlaced hers and Bea’s cold fingers together.

“A few stolen moments is all that we share,” Poppy started singing lightly. “You've got your family and they need you there.”

She played with Bea’s fingers as she continued. “Though I’ve tried to resist, being last on your list. But no other man’s gonna do, so I’m saving all my love for you.”

Poppy let the song continue playing as she shifted her legs to let it rest on the head of the chair, looking up to gaze at Bea’s face. Because of the subtle moments they only could share with each other in school, this was probably the first time she could properly look at Bea’s face in detail.

Other than the purples and blues that decorated the right side of her face, Poppy’s eyes trailed to Bea’s defined eyebrows (must’ve gotten those from Mama Hughes), down her nose, and along the sharp jawline of the sleeping girl. And the scar that cut across horizontally at the side of Bea’s head. Poppy wished that she would dress as Commander Shepard for Halloween.

She silently laughed to herself, the warning sting around her eyes and the tears starting to slide down her cheeks.

“You idiot…”

Poppy wanted to tell Bea how much she wanted to be together with her in school without the reputation. To tell her how much she craved her touch whenever they weren’t together. How much she longed to see her at the end of a school day or once practice ends. How much she wanted to stay over at Bea’s place forever.

And most importantly…

“I love you. I love you so much, you big, beautiful idiot.”

*Babo (바보) - Korean for fool

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#playchoices #choices stories you play #queen b #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #poppy min sinclair fanfic #angst #high school au

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