#dog calling noises... hey... hey... come here.. come get this..

[exforgot]

poorly made because im tired

[missmanlykink]

𝜗୧ BE NICE TO MIKE | mike wheeler ⁺ ‧₊˚

MDNI - 18+ | navigation - m.list - taglist 𝜗୧ | (✿. 2K CELEBRATION !) 𝜗୧

✿. summary: while your making out with mike—your younger brothers best friend—your mom knocks on the door or based off that one kissing booth scene.

✿. pairing: brothersbsf!mike x sinclair!fem!reader

✿. word count: 0.7k

✿. warning: fluff, r is lucas’ older sister, r is one year older than mike, some dry humping, ouuu mike has a crushhhh, secret relationship/fling, ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER 18!

✿. a/n: bye i love this concept…i wanna write more….

SMUT UNDER THE CUT | 18+ MINORS DNI </3

Mike's one year younger than you and completely off limits, but all of his ogling had you putting your morals aside. He was always so cute with the way he stuttered every time you gave him the time of day and spoke to him. Cheeks pink and eyes wide. 

You don’t know what made you see Mike differently. But his once hopeless pining turned into something more. Something you liked, a lot. Both you and Mike were betraying Lucas by sneaking around and fooling around whenever you got the chance, but he didn’t have to know. He was never going to know. Nobody would. You couldn’t imagine the looks you’d get if your friends found out you’ve been hooking up with not only someone younger than you, but the nerdy, lanky boy who happened to be your younger brother’s best friend. 

You snuck him into your room via your window, he’s so tall he could hardly fit, clumsily stepping into your room and tripping over his feet—he was embarrassed but you thought he was adorable. You didn’t waste time talking or saying hello, but you grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss that would last for seemingly hours. If someone told you you’d be sucking face with Mike Wheeler a year ago, you would laugh in their face and call them a weirdo, because that’s ridiculous, but here you were. Perched in his lap, swirling your tongue around his. 

He wasn’t very skilled at making out, but every session you had was a lesson. Teaching him the right place to squeeze and how hard to bite down on your bottom lip. As you grind your clothed pussy on the tent in his pants you earn a sweet whimper and a tight grip on your waist—you told him you were more than okay with his hand on your ass, but he always got so bashful about it. 

“This is so messed up…” you muttered, pulling away to rest your forehead against his soft, pinkened cheek. “I know. B-but I don’t wanna stop,” he breathed, building up the courage to slide his hands down to your ass. A smirk ghosted on your lips as you looked down at him, those puppy dog eyes blown with forbidden lust, lips parted and kiss swollen, his chest heaving from the lack of breathing thanks to how long you’ve been kissing. “Me neither.” 

So your lips found each other again, still wet and puffy. Just as you were about to slip a hand under his shirt you hear a knock at your door, and you freeze, pull away, and look at the door in horror. “Shhhh. Be quiet and get under the bed. Go!” you whisper, jumping off his lap and fixing your appearance, trying to look like you were just swapping spit with your brother's best friend.

Mike hopped off your bed and rolled underneath it, clasping his hand over his mouth to ensure he didn’t peep a noise. “Come in!” You shouted to whoever needed you at such a compromising position, but such a good position at that. 

God, you hated your life. The doorknob twisted and it was your mother. Thanks Mom for interrupting my make-out sesh, you said internally. “Hey, ma. What’s up? Is everything okay? ” you ask with faux concern and hoping that Mike won’t move an inch and make the crinkled trash under your bed rattle. 

“Yes, everything’s fine. Just wanted to let you know the wheelers are coming over for dinner in a few hours. ” 

Your breath hitched in your throat, but you covered it up with a cough. Little did your mother know that a Wheeler was currently under your bed. “Alright, sounds good. ” You smiled, thinking she would leave after she announced this evening's plans, but she had one more thing to say. 

“And can you do me a favor? Be a little nicer to Mike,” she said with pity, referring to how mean you are to him. You’re not that mean to Mike, but you were mean to all of your brother's friends. “You know he has a little crush on you,” 

Oh, you wish you could see his face right down. You bite back the laugh that wanted to erupt from your throat. “Oh, he does? I had no clue. ” You chuckle, brows high to seem surprised, and a hint of sarcasm in your voice. 

“I don't know how. That boy drools over you every time he’s here,” she says before leaving and shutting the door behind her. You wait until you hear her footsteps to trail off before you tell him to get up. 

He stands up and his face is beet red. “So you’ve got a crush on me, Wheeler? ” you tease with a stupid grin on your face. “Jesus Christ. I can not believe your mom just ratted me out like that. ” he groaned, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “There’s nothin’ wrong with a little crush…” You say, reaching out to hook your fingers through his belt loops and tugging him in between your legs. “Shut up…” he murmured, all pouty and embarrassed. “No. You shut up and kiss me again.” And he did, but flopping on top of you and hooking your legs around his waist. Thank goodness your yelp was muffled in his mouth. 

this blog is 18+, do not copy my work for anything without my permission ꔫ / most dividers by @chrisssiren & @cursed-carmine

[kajipops]

WHERE CAN I GET A BOYFRIEND LIKE YOURS?

or, alternatively, things they do that have women sighing in disappointment as they look at their boyfriends.

featuring: endo yamato, suo hayato, and kaji ren

MASTERLIST

Endo Yamato

Three words: scary dog privilege.

Nobody in Makochi or even in neighbouring towns dared to send a wrong glance your way — let alone a whistle or unwanted touch. Very few people were stupid enough to piss off Endo Yamato, and no one was stupid enough to piss off Endo Yamato by harassing his girl. But what especially caught people’s attention was how unwilling he was to leave your side. No matter the time or day, Endo was not letting his girl walk home alone at night, even if it meant staying outside the library for two hours on a weekend.

“Yamato?” You said, surprised. It was close to midnight, and you and your friends were just exiting the library building when you caught sight of your boyfriend leaning by the exit gates. He was dressed in a black tank top, which released a flurry of butterflies in your stomach, and grey sweatpants. His lips curled in a small smile as he caught sight of your figure, illuminated by the soft lights of the library. Beautiful, he thought. 

“Hey, pretty,” he greeted, coming forward to take your books and bag from your hand. He slung your bag over his shoulder and reached out his free hand to intertwine with yours. “Ready to go home?”

“Were you waiting for long?” You asked, worried. “I am sorry, I didn’t know you were here. I would’ve left ear—”

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” he interrupted. “You know I would never let you walk home alone at night. And anyway, I wasn’t waiting for that long.” (He left the house as soon as he saw your text that you were going to be late tonight. That was three hours ago.) 

“(Name),” your friend called out. “Is that your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, he came to pick me up,” you said, a soft smile playing on your face as you squeezed his hand. I love you. His green eyes shone with fondness as he squeezed back gently. I love you too.

Behind you, your friends let out a collective groan as they recounted the various excuses their boyfriends had given:

“Mine said he has school tomorrow, so he can’t be awake so late.”

“Mine said he had to log in for an online game later and disconnected the call!”

“Seriously? Mine didn’t even pick up the phone!”

You chuckled. “Sorry, guys. But looks like I won the boyfriend lottery.”

SUO HAYATO

“You know,” you started, slipping on your favourite earrings, a miniature version of the ones Suo wears regularly. He bought it for your six-month anniversary so you guys could match. “My girl friends hate going on a double date with us.”

“Oh? I never noticed. Why’s that?” Your boyfriend asked, sitting on your bed as he watched you get ready for Umemiya’s barbecue party. In the mirror, you could see your boyfriend’s fond expression as he watched you apply lip gloss, and your lips curled in a huge grin.

“Because you’re too perfect.”

“Hm?” He made a surprised noise. “Me? But that couldn’t possibly be so when it’s you who arrives on these dates looking so pretty and perfect.”

“See!” You suddenly turned around and wildly jabbed your finger in his direction. “That is exactly what I meant. Every time after a double date, my friends always compare their boyfriends to you. You pull my chair every time we go to a cafe or restaurant, know my order by heart, lay a napkin on my lap, remove tomatoes from my food because I hate them, and you always give me your dessert at the end of every meal.” You threw your hands up in mock despair. “And this is not even counting the countless compliments you give me throughout the date. Or that you get me flowers without asking, hold my stuff, walk me back from school, even though Furin is far from our school, and you have patrol daily. My friends are sick and tired of you because their boyfriends can’t even do the bare minimum, and you’re out here giving me the entire world!”

Suo blinked in surprise. “But what I am doing is the bare minimum. How can someone not show their partners the basic love and respect they deserve?”

You stood up from your vanity and leaned down to press a kiss on his forehead. “Every day, I fall for you even more. How did I get so lucky?”

Suo cradled your face and pressed a soft kiss on your lips. “You deserve everything in this world, and I will not stop until I give you the whole world.”

Kaji Ren

Kaji knew he was in trouble when he saw Enomoto, Kusumi, and Umemiya grinning like maniacs. Behind them, Hiragi gave him an apologetic look. Oh yeah, he was definitely screwed. 

“What?” He grumbled, eyeing the clown trio with suspicion. Somehow, that seemed to fuel their mirth more as they openly started giggling like toddlers.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe how fast Kaji has grown up!” Umemiya wiped a fake tear from his eye. Enomoto was now openly cackling, and even Hiragi was chuckling.

Kaji was wondering if he should make a run for it when a phone was suddenly shoved in his face. It took him a second to focus, but once he realised what he was looking at, his face turned the colour of the ripest tomato, and the lollipop fell from his mouth as his jaw slackened.

“H-How did you even get this?” 

It was a photo of you and Kaji from yesterday when you went grocery shopping. In the photo, Kaji was holding 4 huge bags in each hand while you walked beside him, hands empty, a blissful expression on your face as you ate your mango ice cream. Even your pink sling bag was on Kaji’s shoulder; he had refused to let you carry anything. And as if that wasn’t enough, there was a dopey, lovesick expression on his face as he stared at you with fond eyes and a small smile, a far cry from his rough and brash demeanour. 

What took him out even more was that the photo was posted on Makochi’s residential group by the old lady from whom you’d purchased your ice cream, with the caption: “I have never seen Kaji-kun look so happy before. He even paid for her ice cream despite her protests. Ah, young love!”

Ah, fuck. He was screwed.

check out my latest windbre work: when you have nightmares

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[miserymorgue]

What would our miss lawyer think about Jack's beginning of shift speech? Would she join in on the hooyah at the end?????

oh she's endeared and corned OUT i fear LMAOO its cute tho!!

“pinkie pie, you are way too bright for 7 p.m.,” parker ellis sighs as she watches you walk into the ed, the sharp click of your heels turning half the department’s heads before you even make it to the nurses’ station.

“i’m too bright, or you guys are all too drab,” you shoot back easily, adjusting your bag higher on your shoulder as you approach the loose circle of residents. “i have to speak to shen. update on his liability case—”

jack claps once, loud enough to cut through the noise of the department.

“alright, team, we are ready for another night of— oh.” he stops when he sees you properly. “uh. counselor? here so early?"

you blink at him, immediately suspicious.

“…maybe we skip it tonight, guys, let’s just…” jack clears his throat. “do our jobs. save lives. all that.”

parker’s eyebrows shoot up. “you don’t wanna do the nightcrawler chant?”

jack gives her a look that basically says i will fire you.

your grin widens instantly.

“the what chant?”

cyrus henderson scoffs from the back of the group. “he’s embarrassed to do it in front of you now.”

“i’m not embarrassed,” jack says too quickly. “i just think maybe we should maintain a level of professionalism in front of legal counsel.”

“that’s not what you said yesterday when you made us bark like dogs after trauma rounds,” parker mutters.

“where the hell is shen?” jack asks loudly.

“here!” shen appears out of nowhere carrying two dunkin’ cups and looking entirely too awake. “princess peach!” he beams when he spots you.

“hey, we need to talk about your liability case,” you tell him.

“sure thing. after our routine motivational speech.” he shrugs. “you should join us. you’re basically one of us anyway with how much time you spend down here.”

“i really don’t think—” jack starts again.

“i’d love to,” you interrupt brightly.

jack closes his eyes for one long second.

shen slips into the circle beside parker, sipping his coffee while everyone waits expectantly for jack to start.

the ed buzzes around you all — monitors beeping, stretchers rolling past, somebody yelling for respiratory down the hall — but somehow this stupid little ritual still happens anyway.

jack rubs a hand over his jaw.

“alright,” he sighs.

he claps twice.

“we are the nightcrawlers,” he says flatly, already regretting this, “we deal with the weirdest and the wildest—”

the residents immediately yell in unison:

“because we are the weirdest and the wildest of them all!”

you have to hold your gasp and chuckle down with a hand to your lips, nodding along.

jack points at everyone vaguely. “damn right. alright, stay on your feet, ask for help if you need it, drink water like adults, eat something besides caffeine and nicotine, finish your charts, and let’s keep people alive tonight.”

a chorus of “hoo-ah!” echoes around the station.

cyrus pats your shoulder solemnly as he passes. parker gives you finger guns.

“welcome to the cult,” she says before disappearing toward trauma.

you’re still grinning when the crowd disperses.

“shen, i’ll come find you in a sec, alright?” you call.

“yup!” he says, already getting distracted by a nurse yelling his name.

then it’s just you and jack standing near the station while he pretends to look very focused on a patient chart.

you look at him innocently.

“because we are the weirdest and the wildest of them all,” you repeat softly.

jack exhales through his nose.

“you done?”

“absolutely not.”

he shakes his head, but there’s the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“you know,” he says, “there’s gotta be something a little weird with you to willingly work nights in an emergency department.”

“oh, i don’t doubt that at all.”

“good.”

“i think it’s cute, though.”

jack glances up at you.

“…cute.”

“mhm.” you nod seriously. “team bonding. morale boosting. psychologically fascinating, honestly.”

“psychologically fascinating,” he repeats dryly.

“you’re a good leader,” you say then, quieter now. more genuine. “they trust you.”

that lands harder than the teasing did.

jack looks at the chart in his hands instead of you for a second too long.

“it’s just a dumb chant,” he mutters.

“yeah,” you smile. “but they all showed up for it.”

his eyes flick back to yours. there’s something warm there for half a second. something soft.

you recover first.

“also,” you add, “it is extremely corny.”

jack groans immediately. “aaand there it is.”

“i’m serious. deeply corny.”

“alright, not helping my self-esteem here, counselor.”

“no, no—” you laugh, stepping closer without really thinking about it. “it’s sweet corny. there’s a difference.”

“sweet corny,” he repeats skeptically.

“yeah. my bosses just say ‘please don’t embarrass the department in front of opposing counsel’ before meetings.”

“well,” jack shrugs, “that’s basically what i’m saying too. i’m just nicer about it.”

“debatable.”

he gives you a look.

you smile up at him, all bright eyes and glossy lips and pink, and jack has the very sudden horrible realisation that he likes when you stand too close to him. far too much.

you rock back on your heels slightly. “go team,” you say solemnly.

jack already knows you’re about to be annoying.

“hoo-ah,” you add with a tiny mocking bow.

he points the chart at you. “don’t you have legal work to do?”

“probably.”

“go do it.”

you grin as you start backing away down the hall. “nightcrawler behaviour, dr. abbot.”

“that phrase means nothing.”

“because we are the weirdest and the wildest of them all!” you call again while walking off.

jack watches you disappear around the corner before rubbing a tired hand down his face.

parker reappears beside him like she materialised out of the walls.

“she saw that, and still thinks you're all that. definitely no accounting for taste,” she says immediately.

jack stares straight ahead.

“go save somebody, ellis.”

[sp0o0kylights]

Eddie was a disaster gay—he knew this, the band knew this, and  judging by the slurs hurled at him on a regular basis, most of Hawkins knew this.

Thing is, for all the pearl clutching and bible thumping his over-the-top personality garners, nobody can confirm or deny what company Eddie keeps in his boudoir. It’s a sleight of hand, drawing their ire towards his music, his clothes, his hair—all away from the truth living in whispers. 

It’s surviving, and Eddie has a twenty year winning streak that he’a determined to keep.  

Which made it all the worse that, between Eddie’s pending murder charge and the itty-bitty shorts Harrington refuses to stop wearing, years of his hard work keeps getting wrecked by the thoughtless dumb shit coming out of his mouth. 

(He’s gotta get his shit together!) 

The plan is to create distance, focus on clearing his name legally, and eliminate the walking piece of sentient Kentucky Fried Chicken. 

Pity Harrington’s Not-Dog is not on the same fucking page!

The first time Dart tries to get Eddie’s attention, they all assumed it was just Dart being Dart. 

Eddie was the only other person in the house over fifteen, and he too, would have skipped over the younger members of Hellfire should he need something. 

(“What is he doing?” Eddie had hissed, holding painfully still as a head the size of his torso gently lipped at his sleeve,  “Hey, hey!--Henderson, a little help here!?” 

“I think,” Henderson oh so unhelpfully said, hands on his knees as he crouched down to stare, “Dart’s trying to tell you something. What is it buddy? Do you want to lead Eddie somewhere?” 

“Herd him more like.” Mike snorts from his spot on Steve’s couch. 

Dustin snaps and points to them. “That’s--yes, actually, that’s gotta be it!  Eddie, he was pushing you with his head earlier, see if he’s trying to pull you in a specific direction!” 

Because that’s high on the list of things Eddie wanted to do today.

Dart lets out a rattling-saber of a whine that vibrates through Eddie’s spine, and he draws a shuddering breath, still not used to being this close to the fucking thing.

Even with the dog collar, it was hard to see this one as friendly when Eddie had watched one of its peers rip a man to shreds barely two weeks ago.

Dart finally snags a tooth into his jacket and tugs, which unfortunately, does point towards Dustin’s Lassie theory.

(If Harrington’s fallen down a well, Eddie will not be much help.)

A dog gently biting onto a human’s sleeve, to slowly pull them towards a person in need of rescue is both adorable and heroic. 

A seven foot tall rotisserie chicken doing it isn’t either of those things and Eddie staggers as Dart half pulls half pushes him through the kitchen, out the sliding glass doors and towards the pool. 

Henderson and Sinclair follow, chattering excitedly as they watch Dart beeline it, going right to the edge before dropping Eddie and making a soft, unhappy sound, its bulbous head slumped over the side of Harrington’s drained pool.

Cautiously, Eddie peers over himself, to find Steve casually fixing one of the underwater lights. 

Dart looked at him, to Eddie, then back to him, before getting up and pacing a few anxious steps. 

He returns as quickly as he left, whining pathetically at Eddie. 

“....I don’t think your monster likes you being down there.” Eddie calls, getting Steve’s attention. 

Sinclair and Henderson both start cracking up as Dart whines again, dropping dramatically onto his belly as he crawls to the edge and claws pathetically at it. 

Steve glances up, before immediately making a face that Eddie disgustingly reads as finding this entire situation ‘cute.’ 

“Aww bud, I’m okay!” He loudly reassures. “I’m almost done, don’t panic!” 

Dart makes a noise that definitely implies he is panicking.

“Just hang out with Eds for a sec, okay? You guys can watch me the whole time!” 

Which was just fucking fantastic for Eddie, given he’d tried to rein in his drooling ever since Nancy had given him an odd look a few days ago. Upped his ‘No, really, I’m a straight dude who's just really into leather’ act like an owl fluffing itself up to be scarier. 

Of course the second he tried to leave Dart panicked harder, so he did indeed end up staring down at Harrington until the man finally climbed out of the fucking pool, to his abomination’s immediate relief.) 

The second time it happened wasn’t any less confusing, though Eddie was much faster both to follow and find Harrington in the precarious position of hanging halfway off the roof because he’d kicked his ladder over. 

(“You two shouldn’t be out front, my neighbors could see you!” Steve chides, legs dangling in the air. 

“Then maybe don’t use a rickety ass ladder for--are you cleaning the gutters? Is that what you’re fucking doing!?” Eddie chides right back, flabbergasted.

“Nance and Robs kicked me out of the war room. But hey, since you’re here would you mind…” 

And Steve doesn’t even have to finish that sentence, because Eddie is already well on the way to grabbing and restoring the fallen ladder, shaking his head as he goes.) 

The third time (Steve locked himself in the garage) makes it a pattern, and by time seven (Steve needed his migraine medication) Eddie is well used to Dart coming to him for Harrington wrangling. 

So when it happens yet again, Eddie is long over both panicking that Dart is both close and that he has once again grabbed Eddie’s arm in his giant gross mouth.

Instead, Eddie loudly complains; “What’s he done now?” as he’s herded into the backyard. 

Steps onto the patio to find Steve, perfectly safe and sound, doing absolutely fuck all. 

“I don’t get it.” He tells Dart, as the monster begins his ‘help my Daddy please and thank you’ whining routine. 

Louder, and to Steve he says; “What are you doing?” 

Steve blinks at him, turning to show that he’s got a cig in his hands. Unusual, given Robin’s hatred of them. 

Also unusual is the red splotches on Steve’s face. The kind that comes from crying. 

“Oh--hey guys.” Steve says, and the smile he gives is fake as shit. “I’m just uh…doing some star gazing.” 

Dart whines again, slamming his hip into Eddie’s ass, as if it isn’t painfully fucking obvious somethings wrong with Steve. 

“What you’re doing is smoking without me.” Eddie returns as he shoves Dart off, wandering over to drop in the lawn chair next to Harrington. “You better be willing to share, I have been dying for one of those.” 

The laugh he gets is a little more real this time.

“Yeah I got another.”  Steve fishes it out while Dart flops himself down in front of both their chairs, apparently leaving all the heavy lifting to Eddie. 

That’s fine, he owes Harrington a ton anyway. Might as well talk him through whatever ails him (though Eddie has the worst feeling it has to do with Nancy.) 

“So what are you actually doing out here?” He starts. “Besides hiding from Buckles.”  

Who isn’t even in the house, but given how she treats the place like it’s hers, Eddie can’t fault Steve for being sneaky here with his smoking. 

Robin was fucking loud when she was pissed. 

“Just thinking, I guess.” Steve says with a shrug, passing a now lit cigarette over. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Eddie asks, because it feels like the right thing to say.

“Nah.” Steve’s staring at the pool, water reflecting ripples across his face. Then, quieter; “Maybe.” 

“I can talk about D&D campaigns until you decide it’s better to interrupt me, if you’d like.” 

Steve huffs amusement around his cig. “I’m just,” He trails off, pausing to blow a near perfect smoke ring. “You ever have one of those days where you wonder what it is exactly, that’s wrong with you?” 

He pauses, with a sideways glance, “Well, maybe not you, we all know what’s wrong with you.” 

That’s a little more teasing, true to the Harrington form. A recovery move, to downplay how upset he is. 

Eddie makes the appropriate offended noises. 

Steve swivels his head, to stare lazily not at Eddie, but past him. “But more like, what’s wrong with me that I’m so unlovable. You know?” 

Ohhhh yeah, this isn’t just a Nancy conversation but an overarching one. 

Thankfully, this isn’t Eddie’s first rodeo. 

“There’s nothing that makes a person unlovable, Harrington. Everybody out there has someone who will match their freak. Even Dart here probably has some lady monster out there just waiting for him.” 

(They have zero idea if the demo-critters even produce sexually let alone have genders but the last time Eddie had gone down that road Henderson had spat out the word ‘cloaca’ and the group as a whole was still scarred from the entire experience.) 

“Dude you’ve been living in my house for a while now, you can call me Steve.” 

That’s…fair, actually and Eddie nods his assent. “Fine. Steven--” 

“Nope. Just Steve, man.”

“Steven,” Eddie doubles down, because one always should on dumb things, if only for the hell of it, “You are the opposite of unlovable. I get you had stuff and things,” brilliant word play there, truly his best work, “with Nancy and shit, but--”

“It’s not about Nancy.” Steve interrupts, immediately frustrated. 

“I get everyone thinks it’s about her, but I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d let her go.” He sucks an angry inhale, punches out smoke through his mouth. “It’s everyone else.”

Which makes even less sense, because-- 

“Pretty sure Henderson like, adores you dude. Also Buckles. The rest of the kids.” Eddie purposefully screws his face up into a ‘thinking’ expression and clarifies; “Well maybe not Mike, kids got issues.” 

“That’s ‘cause he adores you.” Steve shoots back but there’s a weird tone undercutting the words. 

“Irrelevant!” Eddie waives the hand not holding his stick, “You even have a nightmare murder monster that thinks you hung the moon. You’re the definition of lovable, Steve.” 

“Okay.” Steve spits and here they go, right to the heart of the thing, (far earlier than Eddie’s used to to boot!) “Then why aren’t my parents here?”

Steve throws his own free hand out, startling Dart.

 “Why are they never fucking here? Why--”He cuts himself off, and shoves the cigarette in his mouth so he doesn’t say more, and it’s not hard to see he’s embarrassed he lost it so fast. 

And damn. 

Okay.

This is a much closer to home conversation than Eddie was prepared for but, well.

Like he said, he owes Steve a ton!

“My dad’s in jail.” He says after a long, tense moment, Dart shifting uneasily on the ground. “Told me before he went that he never wanted to see my face again.”

He’d said a lot more than that, actually, but that was the part he was willing to share.

“Shit.” Steve says. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, you ain’t him.” Eddie says on autopilot. “I just wanted to make sure you knew where I was coming from when I tell you that we don't have to tie ourselves up in knots for the people that birthed us. They don't deserve the effort.” 

Understatement of the fucking year but he’s gotta go slow here. 

“Easier said than done.” Steve says bitterly and yup, this is definitely an anger Eddie knows all too well. Funny to find the same thread in Harrington--he’d never expect it, but then, Eddie knows better than anyone what kind of things seemingly happy people like to hide. 

“Didn't say it was easy. But I am saying,” here Eddie flourishes a hand, just to have something to do with it, “that the way they make you feel isn't your reality. You are lovable Steve. Those kids, and those girls, and the terrifying monster on the floor,” 

He points to Dart in emphasis.

 “Love you.” 

Takes a deep breath before allowing himself to add, “and I can see why. So, officially, from someone who knows--fuck your parents, they don't know what theyre missing.” 

It’s more honesty than Eddie is used to with someone like Steve, and considering he’s relying on him both to deal with Vecna and to keep him out of the government’s claws, he really can’t afford to piss Steve off, but--

It feels necessary. 

Someone needs to say the hard truths and quiet confessions, and as usual, the responsibility falls to him, consequences be damned. 

Steve snorts, before taking in a lungful  of smoke. 

Eddie tries not to fidget. 

(It's not like he said HE loved Steve, so he's sure he's in the clear here but you just never know…)

“Yeah, alright.” Steve blows out. “Fuck my parents.” 

Oh, thank god. 

“Thats the spirit!” Eddie cheers, dramatically winging his hands in the air like Steve’s scored a goal. 

Another seemingly real smile glances across Steve's face, right before he sits up suddenly, jamming the cig into the plastic arm of the chair. 

“Fuck them and fuck their bullshit, too. You wanna blow this popsicle stand and go get some beers?”

That “bullshit” carries serious weight there, but the mood is shifting. Eddie plays along, theatrically scanning Steve’s backyard.

 “Is this the popsicle stand you're referring to here? The fucking patio?”

“Shut up.” Steve rolls his eyes playfully before standing, making his own show of stretching out his back, shirt rising up and --(Focus, Munson, focus!) 

He whistles once, for Dart, before making a hurry up gesture at Eddie. 

Later will quietly thank him when they start digging into his dad's beer stash. 

Eddie will hide a smile with his hair while responding; “Anytime.

[jadevaderr]

Cozy mornings

Pairing: Joel x Reader

Summary: Bed rotting with Joel ends up in something else.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, No outbreak, kinda sub!joel, ages not mentioned so just imagine what you prefer, fluff, oral (m receiving), cum eating

Word count: 2k

10:12 AM

You wake up in bed next to Joel as always, your leg on top of his and his warm, big hand on your belly. This has been your reality since you moved in with Joel and Sarah and you couldn’t be happier. Even though Sarah was a bit skeptical at first, she’s grown into living with you, and you’ve grown into having a daughter. You three really make a good family, you only need a dog to be stereotypically picture perfect. 

Joel is sound asleep but you’re fully awake now, so you grab your phone and start scrolling until he decides to wake up.

It doesn’t take long for him to move, anticipating that he’s gonna get up soon, about three minutes you guess.

“Everyday I wake up with weird noises coming out your phone.”

There he is.

“They’re funny videos,” you answer, tossing your phone away and turning on your side to cuddle him. “Good morning, sleepyhead”

“Morning.” he yawns and places his other hand on your head, caressing your hair. 

“Joel,” you call.

“Mm?”

“I need to pee.”

“Then go.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“And why is that?”

“‘Cause I’m cozy and you’re really comfortable to lay on.” you pout.

“Baby, I’ll be here when you come back, ain’t going anywhere.”

“Ain’t going anywhere,” you repeat in a whiny voice, parroting him as you get up from the bed.

“Watch it,” he warns.

After a couple minutes you’re back in bed, but this time you lay almost completely on top of Joel, your head on his bare chest, arm and leg bracing him.

“We bought a big ass bed just for you ending up like this every day,” he says.

You did have to buy a bed. When you moved in, Joel’s bed was a mess, the mattress so wrecked you finally understood why he had so many back aches.

“Just say you hate me,” you answer and roll on your back until you’re on the very other end of the bed, giving your back to him with dramatism.

“Don’t start.” He uses his broad hand to grab your waist and bring you back on top of him. “Didn’t say I don’t like it.” 

You stay like that for a while, listening to each other’s breaths and heartbeats until you speak again.

“You know what I’m craving?” you ask.

“Tell me.”

“Hot chocolate with marshmellows.”

“That sounds appetizing.”

“I wish someone could go and make it for me…” you suggest, soft launching you want him to.

“Mm, that’ll be good.”

“I would be so happy…” you sigh.

“I’m sure you would.”

“And that someone would get some head afterwards…”

“Hey, that ain’t fair.” he looks at you, shaking his head.

“Seems fair to me.” you shrug.

“Seems like manipulation.”

“Seems like you’re not getting head.”

“You’re evil.”

“You chose me.”

“Fine,” he says, getting up from bed. 

“I love you, you're the best.” you smile at him excitedly.  

“I’m spoiling you at this point.”

“Oh come on, you’re right where you want to be.”

Joel leaves the bedroom — only wearing boxers, and heads to the kitchen to make your drink. You feel a little guilty for it, but you also know he’d do anything to make you happy, even if he has to get up from bed on a lazy Sunday. 

You imagine him pouring the milk and mixing the cocoa powder, putting it in the microwave while he searches through the cabinets for the miniature marshmallow bag you made him buy the last time you went shopping. The microwave beeps after a couple minutes.

Joel’s steps get louder coming upstairs, and when he appears again in the room, the view melts your heart. 

He has a mug in each hand, your flashy drink and his plain coffee. “Somebody asked for hot-but-not-that-hot-but-definitely-warm chocolate with marshmallows?” 

“Oh my God thank you, you’re the best.” you smile at him remembering the perfect temperature you like for your drink.

“Already said that.” he hands you your chocolate.

“Yeah, ‘cause you are.” you sit up straight and grab it.

“Would you say it if I didn’t get up to get you your drink?” he sits again next to you, his back against the bedframe. 

“That would’ve been so mean.”

“I know, right?” he places a hand on your thigh. 

“But you didn’t, ‘cause you’re the best.”

Joel gives you a look that you answer to with a giggle. He’s not used to affection yet, the romantic type at least. 

“Is Sarah coming back late?” you ask. She’s gone for the weekend at Ellie’s, her friend.

“I guess so.” 

“Good.”

He looks at you furrowing his brows, silently asking you to elaborate.

“I wasn’t kidding about the… head thing.”

“Baby, you don’t have to, didn’t make you breakfast to get head.”

“But I want to, you’re so good to me, want to make you feel good too.”

“Are you comparing getting hot chocolate with sucking cock?” he asks so casually. 

“Kinda.”

“God damn…” he shakes his head. “Just finish your chocolate before it gets cold.”

“It’s already cold, but don’t worry someday you’ll learn how to nail it.”

He stares at you before saying anything. “Next time you want something you’re gonna get your ass there instead of making me-”

You shove a marshmallow in his mouth before he can finish his sentence. He didn’t expect it, that’s for sure because he’s got his mouth open and is looking at you puzzled. You close his jaw with your hand. “Good boy. That’s it, swallow.” you giggle.

You’re poking the bear and you’re aware of it, knowing he can put you in your place at any moment, but that only makes it more exciting. 

“I wouldn’t push my luck like that if I were you.” he says after chewing.

“You’re cute when you try to sound dangerous.” 

“Oh, yeah?” he places his empty mug on his nightstand, freeing his hands and crossing his arms.

“Mhm.” you take a final sip before copying him and placing yours on your nightstand. “Very scary, but cute, like a chihuahua.” 

“Those tiny motherfuckers ain’t scary, they’re all bark no bite.”

“Have you ever been chased by one?” 

“That sounds more like a situation you would get into, not me.” he pats your thigh. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” 

To his surprise, you get up, pull off the sheets and straddle his lap. “Anyways…” you trail your finger along his chest down to the waistband of his boxers. His hands find your waist.

“Angel, you don’t have to-”

You cut him off moving your hips forwards, making his body jolt. You lean to kiss his lips softly. “Let me make you feel good.”

Joel just nods as you grind against him to get him hard, it doesn’t take you long. 

When you consider he’s ready enough, you get off his lap and crawl between his legs under the sheets. Slowly, you hook your fingers on his boxers and start to pull them down. His cock is hard against his stomach, tip flushed and starting to leak. “Be good for me and take it,” you say. 

Before starting your maneuver, you grab your hair with your hand to stop it from being in the way and his cock with the other, bringing it to your mouth and licking the precum dripping from the tip. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. 

You continue to lick long stripes from the base to the head, wetting his long and thick shaft. Then, you suck the tip into your mouth, drawing circles with your tongue on his slit.

He bucks his hips up, searching for more. Instead, you back off. “Nuh-uh, just relax and lemme do the work.”

Joel obliges and lets his body fall flat on the mattress, bringing a hand to his temple. 

You go back to business, trying to get more of him every time you bob your head. You can feel him twitch when his tip reaches the back of your throat, your hand jerking the flesh that can’t fit in your mouth. You gag and pull out to take a breath, leaving a thread of saliva mixed with precum.

He’s wrecked, panting and cursing as you brush your thumb over his swollen head. You spit on it and let it drip down his length before sucking him off again, gagging around it and moaning so he feels the vibration. 

“Baby, ain’t gonna last much longer,” he says with trembling legs.

You pull out, “hold it.” then suck again, now taking his whole cock in your mouth until his hairs touch your skin. 

“Please,” he whines and you ignore it, still deepthroating him. 

“Can’t hold it, angel — fuck.  Please.”

You give your throat a break again, using both hands to jerk him off. “Please, what?” 

“You know what.”

“Mmm, not very sure about that. Tell me what you need.”

“Jesus… Just- let me cum, please.”

“That so? You want to come?” you jerk him faster. He just nods. “Then do it, baby.”

After some final strokes, Joel comes undone in your hand, painting it white with his seed. Staring at his eyes, you lick it all clean.

He’s still catching his breath, swearing he could come a second time just by seeing how his spend disappears on your tongue. “Goddamn,” he huffs. 

“Good?” you ask.

“More than good. C’mere.” he pats his chest, inviting you.

You do as you’re told and rest your head on his arm, hand playing with the hair on his chest. He pulls up his boxers, tugging in his softening cock. Then, his fingers find your hair and start to massage your scalp. 

“You’re too good to me,” he whispers before leaving a kiss on your forehead.

“You say that now, wait until your cock is soft and I make you go for a sweet treat.”

Joel suddenly rolls and sets on top of you, caging you under him. “You’re my sweet treat.” he starts to leave wet kisses on your neck, making you giggle. 

“Already needy for a second round?” you tease.

“Just giving my girl what she deserves.”

“Sounds real nice.”

“Like hell it does.” he bites your earlobe and trails a hand downstairs, finding your drenched panties. “This wet just sucking cock?”

“I think I’m wet since you woke up honestly. You have that effect on me.” you trace his chest with your finger. 

He chuckles. “What am I gonna do with you...”

“Don’t know, but you can start by fucking me already maybe.”

“Yeah I like that idea, gonna fuck you so good.”

You grab his face and kiss him, but when he’s about to tug your panties to the side, his phone rings.

“Fuck!” he complains, getting off of you. “Ain’t no goddamn respect these days- oh.”

You look at him confused, wondering who’s calling. 

“It’s Sarah,” he answers before you can even ask.

Joel picks up the phone, grunting words instead of actually saying anything. He hangs up the phone and gives you a look. “Her friend’s parents can’t give her a ride. Now I have to go pick her up from wherever the fuck they live.” He gets out of bed and starts to put on the first clothes he can find.

“You’re not gonna leave like that, are you?” you point at his crotch, where his hard cock is making a big bulge. 

“It’ll go down in the car I suppose.”

Before leaving, he shoots a look at you.

“I ain’t done with you yet.”

“Mm, don’t know if I can resist starting without you.” you start to play with the hem of your panties. 

“Don’t,” he warns, pointing with a finger at you like an angry dad. It makes you giggle.

He leaves the room and, even though he doesn’t say it, he’s happy because he’s coming home with a daughter and has a wonderful woman waiting for them. 

Life is finally treating him right.

My AO3

[beasbrain]

Lighthouse

"The lighthouse shines for all. It does not judge who needs its light."

description: a soft, comfort-filled day of wandering through bookstores, walking through the park, laughing harder than you have in weeks, and being reminded that even on the worst days, you are still deeply loved. for anyone struggling lately, you deserve gentleness too.🤍

pairing: eddie x you (fem!reader)

tags: eddie munson x reader, no y/n, comfort fic, boyfriend!eddie, soft and wonderful eddie, mental health themes, romp, bookstore date, comfort read, quiet intimacy, soft conversations, acts of service eddie, no fixing energy, tender moments, slice of life, lots of reassurance, everyone deserves an eddie tbh

TW: depression themes, mental health themes, comfort-focused fic

WC: 2.0k

A/N: requested by @chickpeadumpsterfire i hope you enjoy! may is mental health awareness month! just wanted to put a little extra love into this fic for anyone who’s been having a hard time lately. depression can be isolating and exhausting and sometimes all-consuming, and I really wanted this to feel gentle and comforting rather than “fixed.” you are not lazy, dramatic, broken, or difficult for struggling. please take care of yourselves the best you can this month. drink some water, get some fresh air if you’re able, and remember there are people who care about you very deeply, even when your brain tries to convince you otherwise. sending all my love.🖤

Eddie lets himself into your house, quickly popping into the living room to say hello to your mom and your dog. Your mom gives him a warm smile and a “hello” before nodding towards the hallway.

“She’s in her room,” she says, then sighs.”Has everything been alright with you two? She’s been…” Her voice trails off, searching for the words.

“I’ve been a little tied up at work recently, but yeah, we’re fine. I’ll go talk to her.”

Your mom nods and grabs the remote, insinuating that the conversation is over. Eddie walks down the hallway towards your room, knocking once. 

“Yeah?” your voice calls from beyond the door. He nods once and lets himself in.

“Hey, sweet…” his voice trails off, eyes scanning the scene.

Your curtains are still drawn despite it being nearly three in the afternoon. Clothes are scattered across the floor, half-folded laundry abandoned at the foot of your bed. An untouched mug of tea sits on your nightstand beside a stack of books and tangled headphones.

And you. Curled up beneath your blankets in one of his old Black Sabbath shirts, eyes dull with exhaustion. Eddie’s expression softens immediately.

“Hey,” he says again, quieter this time.

You offer him a weak smile. “Hi.”

He shuts the door behind him carefully, like too much noise might crack something fragile, then crosses the room and sits on the edge of your bed. 

“You sick?” he asks gently.

You shrug.

“Tired?”

Another shrug.

Eddie studies you for a long moment, brows pinching together slightly. “Baby,” he murmurs. “How long’ve you been in here?”

You stare at a loose thread on the comforter. “I dunno.”

“That bad, huh?”

The thing is, he doesn’t ask judgmentally. Doesn’t say it with that forced brightness people use when they don’t really get it. There’s no come on, cheer up in his voice. No, "it could be worse."

“I’m trying,” you whisper finally. “I just feel…stuck lately.”

Eddie nods immediately.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I know that feeling.”

Your eyes flick up to his.

He leans back against the wall behind your bed, fiddling absentmindedly with one of your rings sitting on the nightstand. “Sometimes your brain just decides everything’s heavy for no reason.” A small huff of laughter leaves him. “Makes getting outta bed feel like fighting for your life.”

You blink at him a little. “You get like this, too?”

“Sweetheart.” He gives you a look. “I don’t write sad metal songs for fun.”

That gets the tiniest laugh out of you. Barely there, but enough that his face lights up like he just won the lottery. “There she is,” he says quietly.

Eddie nudges your knee beneath the blanket. “C’mon.”

“I don’t wanna do anything.”

“I know.” He stands, then points at you dramatically. “Which is exactly why we’re doing something.”

You groan immediately. “Eddie—”

“Nope. No arguing.” He walks toward your closet like he owns the place. “We’re getting you outta this crypt for at least a few hours.”

“I look terrible.”

“Incorrect. You always look pretty. Next excuse.”

“I seriously don’t have the energy.”

His movements slow a little at that one. 

“You don’t gotta be fun today,” he says. “Or smile the whole time. Or pretend you’re okay for me.” He glances back at you. “I just don’t want you trapped in your own head all day.”

You stare at him quietly while he pulls one of your sweaters off a hanger.

“And,” he adds, holding it up, “I was thinking bookstore.”

You narrow your eyes slightly. “Bookstore?”

“Mhm. You can judge all the covers dramatically, I can pretend I understand poetry, then maybe we get coffee after.”

“…You hate poetry.”

“I hate bad poetry. Huge difference.”

Another reluctant smile tugs at your mouth.

Eddie notices instantly, pointing at you again. “That’s two smiles. I’m killing it.”

“Oh, my god.”

“Get dressed before I physically carry you to the van.”

“You wouldn’t.”

His grin turns downright wicked. “Try me.”

About an hour later, you’re wandering slowly beside him through the small bookstore downtown, the bell above the door still jingling faintly behind you. The place smells like old paper and coffee beans. Warm lighting spills across crowded wooden shelves, soft music humming somewhere overhead.

Eddie stays close without hovering; that’s the thing about him. He somehow knows how to be there without suffocating you with concern.

He lets you drift through the aisles at your own pace, occasionally holding up books with horribly dramatic summaries just to hear your commentary.

“This one says, forbidden love.” He squints at the back cover. “That’s code for emotionally devastating and poorly communicated.”

You snort quietly.

“And this one,” he continues, grabbing another, “has a shirtless man fighting a dragon, which feels ambitious.”

“Eddie,” you laugh, embarrassed.

“There it is again!” he gasps loudly. “The laugh! She lives!”

A few people glance over. You shove his shoulder immediately while he cackles. And for the first time in what feels like weeks, the heaviness in your chest eases, just a little.

Eventually, Eddie finds you sitting cross-legged on the floor in the nonfiction section, absentmindedly flipping through a book without really reading it.

He lowers himself beside you with a soft grunt, handing you an iced coffee. “Peace offering.”

You murmur a quiet thank you before taking a sip.

Then Eddie says quietly, “You don’t have to explain it to me, y’know.”

You glance over. “Explain what?”

“The way you’re feeling.”

Your fingers tighten slightly around the cup.

“I know sometimes there isn’t a reason.” His voice stays light, but honest. “Sometimes your brain’s just mean to you for a while.”

“I always feel guilty when I get like this,” you admit eventually. “Like everyone else is functioning normally and I’m just…” You swallow thickly. “Behind. Or like, broken…”

Eddie’s expression changes instantly.

“No,” he says firmly.

You blink at the sudden seriousness in his tone.

“You are not behind, or broken, or whatever that stupid internal voice is telling you.”

The words come fast now, certain and unwavering.

“You’re exhausted. And overwhelmed. And your brain chemistry’s being an asshole to you.” He nudges your shoulder gently with his. “But you are not broken.”

Your eyes sting unexpectedly.

Eddie notices immediately, his voice softening again. “Hey,” he murmurs. “C’mere.”

You don’t even hesitate before leaning into him.

His arm wraps around your shoulders instantly, pulling you against his side while your face presses into the leather of his jacket. He smells like cigarettes, coffee, and the cologne he always steals from Wayne.

Safe.

“I know I can’t fix it,” he says quietly against the top of your head. “But I can sit in it with you.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as emotion climbs painfully into your throat.

Eddie just holds you tighter. No rushing, no trying to force positivity onto you, no acting uncomfortable with the ugly parts.

Just there; steady, warm, and real.

After a minute, he presses a kiss into your hair.

“Also,” he says lightly, “if anyone says anything bad about you, I will bite them.”

A watery laugh escapes you.

“There’s my girl.”

By the time you leave the bookstore, the sun’s started dipping lower in the sky, painting everything gold. Eddie insists on carrying your little paper bag despite the fact it contains exactly one paperback and a bookmark.

“You’re being dramatic,” you tell him as the two of you cross the street.

“I’m being a gentleman,” he corrects. “Huge difference.”

“You almost got arrested for stealing road signs once.”

“In my defense, they looked cool.”

You shake your head, smiling into your coffee cup. The park nearby is quiet this time of day. A few people walk dogs along the paths, kids chasing each other near the swings while leaves rustle softly overhead.

Eddie walks beside you slowly, one hand dangling at his side. At some point, your fingers accidentally brush his. He immediately hooks his pinky around yours.

It’s so stupidly gentle it nearly makes your chest ache, and you glance over at him.

“What?” he asks innocently.

“You’re corny.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway.”

You keep walking, your joined hands swinging slightly between you. Then Eddie abruptly stops beside a duck pond.

“Oh, my god.”

You narrow your eyes immediately. “Why do you sound like that?”

“Baby.” He points dramatically. “Look at him.”

You follow his finger toward an aggressively round duck sitting near the water. “…It’s a duck.”

“That is the fattest duck I’ve ever seen in my life.”

You stare at him for a second before laughing under your breath.

“Be nice.”

“He’s got a fat little head like Gareth.”

The sound that leaves you this time is louder, realer. Eddie’s head whips toward you instantly, eyes lighting up.

“There it is,” he says softly, grinning.

“Oh my god, stop making a thing out of it.”

“I can’t help it.” He starts walking backward in front of you now, hands spread dramatically. “You have any idea how pretty you look when you laugh?”

“Eddie—”

“No, seriously. It’s like witnessing a historical event.”

You groan, embarrassed, but you’re still smiling.

A breeze pushes your hair across your face, and he reaches over automatically, tucking it behind your ear with an ease that makes your stomach flutter.

“You feeling any lighter?” he asks quietly after a moment.

You think about it honestly. The sadness is still there; you know it will be waiting when you get home. Depression doesn’t magically disappear because of bookstores, ducks, and coffee.

But right now? Right now, your chest doesn’t feel quite as crushingly tight.

“...A little,” you admit.

Eddie nods like that answer means everything to him.

“Good,” he says simply.

You keep wandering after that, aimless and slow. Eddie eventually starts trying to balance along the edge of the curb like a little kid, arms spread wide.

“Witness greatness,” he announces.

“You’re literally twenty years old.”

“And thriving.”

Two steps later, he slips slightly, windmilling hard enough that you burst into laughter again.

“Oh my god!”

“I meant to do that,” he says immediately, regaining his balance with what little dignity he has left.

“Sure you did.”

He points accusingly at you. “You’re laughing at me.”

“You made fun of a duck!”

“That duck knew what he did.”

“He did nothing besides have a ‘Gareth-shaped head’!”

You laugh so hard your stomach hurts this time, head tipping back slightly, and Eddie just… watches in pure delight. Your laughter slowly fades when you notice the look on his face.

“What?” you ask softly.

He shakes his head once, smiling to himself. “Nothin’.”

“Eddie.”

His expression softens. “I just missed that sound.”

The honesty in it makes your eyes sting a little again. You step closer without really thinking about it, reaching for his hand properly this time instead of just pinkies.

“Hey,” you murmur.

His fingers immediately lace with yours.

“Thank you.”

Eddie’s brows pinch slightly. “For what?”

“For not trying to fix me.” Your voice comes quieter now. “For just being here. Being your ridiculous, amazing self.”

Something warm and aching flashes across his face.

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, squeezing your hand. “You never gotta thank me for loving you.”

And god, that almost does you in. He notices instantly, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around you before you can even try to hide it.

You bury your face into his jacket with a quiet laugh. “You’re gonna make me cry in public.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve caused a scene.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “C’mon. Let’s walk before I start getting emotional, too.”

dividers by @strangergraphics

i hope you all enjoyed:) sending love and light your way, always<3

taglist is open!

beauties:

@bitterestwillow @kozume-ko, @obsessed-eddie, @doomdabss, @julxsxx, @leelei1980 @hexqueensupreme @ches-86 @plaidamoosette @bobiverses @meadows-ofasphodel @whitakerstorm @dreamerjj @sariahs-stuff @brrrainst3w @serendipdipity01 @hypersexytoptobottom @m-art000 @sisteramycatherine @walleloveseve @camsmunson101 @flavorfullstevepeachpuffs25 @abirdinthehouse @m-art000 @micheledawn1975  @whitakerstorm @cciessuzi @blackqueenie-18

[invincibledc]

#I AM ALIVE.

BATFAMILY X BENDY!READER

🖋️SYNOPSIS: when a certain deranged ink demon is mostly alive, even if others think they’re not.

🖋️INFO: reader/you have been mutated in ink by your father’s co-worker. Being a now ink demon that somehow is still a teenager after years and decades of the incident. Reader is gender neutral.

🖋️GENRE: oneshot

🖋️WORDCOUNT: 870

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

“Y/n”

“Hm?”

“You’re melting again…” Tim says concerned, looking at your dripping face that’s dripping with ink as of this moment.

You’ve been living with the Waynes for a while, ever since Tim discovered your lost case of being mutated with ink.

Making you into some creature that lives through ink.

“Oh.” You bluntly say, not even worrying for your own being as it’s been years. Years you’ve been stuck as a teenager, mentally a little, and physically more. “I’ll be fine…” You said softly, and Tim frowned, seeing your dark eyes look back at the TV in front of you both.

“You sure?” He says scooting closer to you on the couch.

“Yeah.”

You got up with haste, wiping the ink that started to drip over your eyes. God, you felt sick.

“I’m going to bed.” You said as your body started to feel further, making an ink puddle and transferring yourself to another that you made into your room.

Tim was going to reach out to you but didn’t.

“Damnit… they don’t even seem alive,” Tim mutters to himself, combing his fingers through his hair as he looks at the puddle that soon clears away from the floor.

“Why must they have gone through what they went through?”

🖋️

Jason walked out of his room. 'I'm just visiting,' he says to himself and to the family when he comes over. He walked down the stairs, going to the kitchen. He just wanted a fresh bottle of water. That's all he wanted.

A nice cold water bottle in the fridge with his name written all over it. But as Jason walked into the kitchen, there stood a tall-looking demon, dripping with black liquid.

Jason turns on the lights only for the “thing” to go away and reveal it's just you eating this old-looking soup.

Bacon soup.

“Kid.. What are you doing up this late?” Jason questions, watching how you emotionlessly eat. “Y/n?”

You snapped out of your state as you just slowly looked at him as if you were in some horror movie.

“Eating.”

“Eating what?”

“Bacon soup.”

Silence after that.

“Y/n, are you okay? You look kinda dead.”

“I am alive,” you said as you slurped your soup annoyingly loud.

Silence. Expect the loud slurping noises.

“Whatever,” Jason says rubbing his eyes as he goes to get a water bottle and leave. He then turns the lights off. Leaving you just in the dark as you stopped slurping. Staring off in the dark with a blank look, you dropped the bowl of soup in the sink.

“Sickening.”

🖋️

You were looking outside, minding your business before dick had busted into your room.

“Hey there Inky!!” Dick says enthusiastically, walking over to see your dull dark eyes. They've always been dull ever since you've lived here. But jeez did you look depressed.

You don't smile.

Don't laugh.

Don't even hang out much with the family.

If Dick had to say it, you’re worse than Jason.

“Why don't you say we go out for some family bonding?” Dick suggests as he stood by you, looking at you as you gave him a weirded-out glance.

“Why should I? We’re not even related.”

Dick chuckles at your words, “Well Inky, we don't have to be related to be family.” dick reasons, or tried to at least since you just looked forward again.

“I’ll pass.”

Dick frowns, “Okay something's up with you, what's up?”

Silence.

You only stared at a dog that was quite familiar to someone you counted as a friend and a brother, someone you held close to.

Dick noticed you looking at the dog and smiled. “Oh, I know that stray dog, I named it Boris.”

Your eyes widened, looking at dick and then the dog. “Really?”

“Yes, but Damian also helped me pick the name cause I was just gonna call him spotty due to his little cute freckles.”

You couldn't help but let out a small smile, feeling a little bit relaxed as you stared at the dog who trotted across the sidewalk.

“Yeah.. I guess the freckles are cute.”

🖋️

Damian had a pout on his face. Shocking isn't it? Well, he's pouting because the only person or so said ink monster he likes is ignoring him. Ever since Damian met you, it’s been kinda weird. He likes drawing, he’s nine. So you assumed he equated you being an ink demon to helping him with his artistic skills.

“I assure you that it won’t take long for this errand,” Damian says, trying to reason with you.

“No.”

“You’re simply incomprehensible,” Damian says, using those big words again for his vocabulary.

“And you are simply annoying, now go away twerp.” you shooed him away to which he just stood there with a glare.

“You are not even alive for me to even desire death upon you.”

“Oh, I'm alive. Just not the kinda alive you think I am,” you smirked as you walked past the dwaf who clicked his tongue at your attitude.

“I am alive….” you whispered to yourself as you looked at your pale hands, and you felt your own cold body. Your face was dripping ink before you wiped it off quickly.

“I am alive.”