#like... thats just him saying it. he never says ‘and i care about you back’ he literally fuckinf says ‘No i don’t give a shit about you’

[poppy-metal]

fail marriage when ur hella ovulating and you’re lonely and you miss him and you’re only separated, he’s still your husband really, so you call art. you tell him,”we don’t need to work anything out today. we don’t even have to talk. i just want to feel you. i miss touching you. i’m lonely. hang up if you’re coming over.”

you hear the line go dead and ring in your ear. you smile softly. he’s still your art. he still answers your call within one ring. he still wants you without thinking. he still needs you without caring what it means or if it will hurt him. you feel bad, guilty, but you feel so good to have him. when he knocks on your door, that special rap, you’re already waiting and open it. he spills through it, sweeping you up in his arms, embracing you before he even thinks about anything sexual.

“i love you.”

he says it without meaning to.

“i love you.”

“i love you.”

“i love you.”

“i love you.”

and it goes on like that. neither one of you can leave the others confession unsatisfied, unrequited. as you kissed with tongue and entire mouth, as you shed layer after layer of clothes and struggled around each other into the bedroom of your tiny apartment (normally, art was furious you lived here at all, furious you felt you should have to pay for yourself. he would pay for a bigger place, begged you to get somewhere in a safer part of town on his dime, but you wouldn’t hear it. quietly and graciously, you denied him more of you.) as you tugged and clawed and groaned and entered each other you chanted your mantra. i love you. all that shit that broke you up, none of it mattered tonight. none of it. you were his and he was yours and tonight, nothing would change that. i love you, the only true thing in the world, just for one night. and another night. and another and another and another.

u want me dead......

Its so evil of her too, it's like shes testing to see if it really is true that he wants her that badly - if he'll let her use him and hurt him by giving him her body but not her heart - art has always wanted to be a martyr for those he loves, always lets his love abuse him - and its sick you'd do that to him when you remember how he'd brought it up in therapy, back when you'd tried therapy together, how he felt like he was never good enough, but he was kind of addicted to that feeling - because its what kept him chasing for more, more, more, even if he suffered.

you'd never wanted to make your husband suffer. never in your whole time together had you wanted to inflict pain. but maybe thats where you went wrong with eachother. each of you unwilling to inflict pain on the other, unwilling to take risks, to dig your claws in, to demand things and hurt and be loud and messy and raw.

you want to hurt him now. you want to take his love and abuse it, put it to the test, push its limits to see how strong it really is - its why you walked away in the first place. nothing was gonna change between you without carnage. you'd both suffered too long in the silence of your quiet wanting for anything else to bring you back together.

you dont know how long you plan to drag it on for - how long you'll keep pushing and pushing him. until he breaks, maybe?

you're getting close to that point when you invite him over - allow him to touch you and pour confessions into your lips - but you keep your own lips tightly sealed. even if you echo it back everytime in your head, when he kisses down your body, between your legs and you almost say it, almost gasp it when his tongue rolls your hot clit in his mouth. the words are on the tip of your lips, ready to pitch over when he makes you cum around his fingers knuckle deep inside you - you're grateful when he licks into your mouth before they flow out - moan against him instead as you shatter apart in his arms, clenching and clenching around him.

"there, baby, there. cum for me - you're so beautiful, fuck - i missed this. i miss you, i love you -" and you kiss him this time, to shut him up.

your body wants his. it wants to take his cock inside her and wrap legs around him and never let him go - you want to kiss between his legs, suck him between your lips and worship him back with long pulls of your throat - you want to sink down on him, feel him stretch you out - you want him to take you roughly, push you back and yank your legs apart and growl and snarl at you for leaving him. fuck you with punishing snaps of his as he reminds you why you're meant for eachother.

but he gasps, "please. let me-"

and you come back to yourself. make yourself go cold instead of melting warm.

you push him away again, pretending the wounded fawn look he gives, he's always been such an open bleeding wound, doesn't affect you.

"you should go." you tell him instead.

you hear him inhale sharply. see suprise, and loss, and hurt and, most startilingly - anger, flash in his blue eyes. they darken. you swallow, your breath catching as you watch eachother.

he clenches his jaw. he obviously wants to push back. but he just looks away, and jerks his chin in a nod. dejected - "yeah, okay."

you deflate.

you dont look up when you hear the door close. empty fucking apartment. you'll probably cry yourself to sleep at night.

and tomorrow you'll be back to pushing. always pushing. something has to give, eventually.

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 [+ 𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥] 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: dean, sam, castiel, and gabriel

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: dance macabre—ghost

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧

• When Dean first meets you in the middle of bumfuck nowhere on a hunt, he's not surprised that you know his name

• Afterall, he has brought on the apocalypse more than once, and the hunter community isn't exactly known for its ability for people to keep their mouths shut

• What does surprise him, though, is your knowledge on him as a person

• It's nothing creepy— the thought of someone knowing all about him in that way brings him back to where he first met Becky through Chuck, and the thought males him shudder —but just enough to where it's obvious you've done some digging and people reading of your own

• "Brought back some pie with dinner; didn't know what you wanted so I got apple."

• "Careful handling this case, it's got some nasty demons. We don't want you diving head first into hell. Again."

• "No no, don't use that. It didn't work on that shape-shifter you ganked last year in Massachusetts, so it won't work on this one. Throw it out." You eventually say one night while looking in Baby's trunk for some ammo, and Dean finally turns to face you

• "How did you know that? How do you know any of these things?" He clears his throat, squinting. You shrug with a barely there smile

• "Who do you think cleans up your messes when you're done, Dean? And what can I say. Word gets around."

• It's a simple case of Dean's reputation preceding him. Although, as you discover, there's a lot more to the Winchester than just his precious car, a strange love for greasy food, and his ability to fight off a demon with his bare hands

• "You sure you aren't obsessed with me? Because its totally fine if you're obsessed. I mean, look at me." Dean asks you at one point while gesturing down at himself. He's leaning on his car door in what he probably thought was a sexy manner, watching as you lugged some equipment out to the vehicle. You manage to press your lips together just in time to hide your amused grin

• "Keep dreaming, man." You shake your head. "There's a difference between reading up on people, and stalking them."

• "So you admit it?" He grins misheviously, pushing himself off Baby. "That you've spent your spare time thinking about me?"

• "Sure. And those witnesses never mentioned you'd be this insufferable." You scoff light heartedly, even though thats exactly what some of them said, and leave it at that. But for the rest of the hunt Dean can't stop elbowing you in the ribs to make a playful remark; something that, strangely, you don't find yourself minding

𝐒𝐚𝐦

• Unlike his brother, Sam takes the information that you practically already knew him with a bit of embarrassment

• Sure, he had been (or was supposed to be) Lucifer's vessel, and sure he also had a habit of being at the center of everything world ending, but he never really conciders him anyone other than a hunter that just happens to get the worst cases

• So when you just offhandedly started dropping these facts about him, he's a little off put

• "How'd you know that?"

• "You're literally one of the most infamous hunters to ever exist, Sam. You tangle with angels. Most of us only ever get to meet a werewolf or two before a friend is organizing our funeral the week after."

• "Oh. Right"

• Gets a little curious after a while as to what you exactly know. It's not like he keeps a journal about his feelings that the public can read, and that this point he's just praying you haven't discovered Chuck's Supernatural series, so he'd probably ask you all of what you know and why you know it

• "So you're telling me you've done research on our hunting styles—" Sam asks you while leaning forward. You nod, so he continues. "—and all the people we've ever pissed off?"

• "Call it too much free time, which I certainly don't have enough of these days, but I knew if I ever ran into you two knuckle heads, and I knew it would happen eventually whether I wanted it to or not, then I would need to be prepared." You dragged a hand down your face and exhaled for a moment. "That meant making a checklist of every vamp, demon, or god you've ever had out for your head. And trust me, it's a lot."

• He's silent for a moment after you finish, but it doesn't take long for him to pipe up again

• "Can I see it?"

• Safe to say, after seeing the list, Sam started to rethink some of his past decisions

• "Seriously, how are we not dead yet??"

• "Buddy, I have no idea."

𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐥

• He does not understand why you seem to know so much about him. Not only as a person, but as an angel

• Castiel is used to the Winchester's asking questions. The first year of knowing them was filled with 'How Did You Do That''s and 'Can You Do This''s. He'd answer all of them, even if he found their questions to be on a kindergarten level most of the time, until eventually they had no more to ask

• You hadn't been like that. Castiel doesn't think he could ever recall you asking him things unless they were about hunts or special circumstances, like the time Sam lost his soul. Hell, you seemed to know more about him than some angels knew about themselves

• Grace knowledge, wing anatomy, biblical lore—you name it and Castiel's probably heard it come out of your mouth at some point

• He gets around to asking you about it one day, albeit very bluntly

• "You don't ask questions." Castiels voice sounds from behind you. You don't even bother to turn around; you heard his wings flutter the moment before he dropped in

• "What do you mean Cas?" You sucked some air between your teeth as you scribbled away at the papers before you. It was something Sam had asked you to follow up on, and you'd been at it for a hot minute now. Hopefully you could make this conversation quick so you could get back to it

• "About angels." A beat of silence. "About me."

• This time you do turn around in your seat to look at him. He's already studying you with that silent squint, and you resist the urge to mirror it

• "Why would I ask questions I already know the answers to?" You parry. The case papers lay on the table, forgotten by now. Your response gets you a rare, but endearing, Cas head tilt

• Upon further questioning, he finds out you'd spent a lot of your early hunting years doing nothing but reading up on anything remotely supernatural. Even calling them 'hunting years' was a stretch. You were more like a crazed researcher that never left the library than a hunter, even resorting to keep mountains upon mountains of notes on ancient lore stored away in the margins of dusty books

• "That's certainly explains why you weren't surprised when we met for the first time and I healed you." Cas's low voice drawled slowly after you gave him a moment to interject. "Or how you knew the symbol for sending us back to heaven before Dean or Sam ever did."

• "Like I said." You smiled to yourself, and Castiel got the feeling he was missing a part of the joke. "Lots of reading."

𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥

• Do not bring up that you used to have an angel phase back in college. Under no circumstances should you reveal that. He will never let you live it down

• Especially if he finds out you used to study artwork and literature about him specifically

• It's all over the moment he finds your old school books. They're stuffed full of old crinkled pages with his name thrown in there. Of course, this was way back when the idea of angels being real was laughable to you and you still had dreams of graduating college, but that doesn't change to fact that the notes are there, and that Gabriel found them

• "Wait wait wait listen to this—" An old binder is clutched in the hands of a very amused and very heavenly being as he paces around your spot at a table. His eyes are slimming the pages as a speed quicker than light, and Gabriel's shit eating smile grows as he continues to read

• "The archangel Gabriel isn't depicted as much as his brothers Micheal or Lucifer in classic literature, but when he is, it is often as a symbol of great power and beauty—"

• "I'm going to kill you." You cut him off and groan with hot cheeks. Your hands had come up to cover your face a while ago in an attempt to keep what little dignity you had, but something told you it wasn't working

• "Glad to know you think I'm beautiful, sweet cheeks." Was all Gabriel said. You could hear the teasing lit in his voice. Sure enough, when you looked up to glare at him, he was already looking at you and wiggling his brows suggestively. It took you a total to three seconds to throw the closest thing at his head

• "Hey hey! Watch the beautiful goods!" He laughed while dodging a pencil. It his his chest anyway and bounced to the ground with a dull thud

• "Gabriel." Your tone was downright murderous

• "Okay, okay! I'll stop!"

• He does, in fact, not stop. Someone restrain him for the love of Chuck, for he is getting way too much enjoyment out of poking fun at you

• You're gonna have to avoid him for the next few weeks after that if you want to keep your embarassment levels to a minimum. No other way around it

• Let's just hope he never realizes you had to spend time in art class analyzing renaissance paintings of him in the nude. Now that would be the conversation to end all conversations

• "Heyyy, you never told me you had an art folder—"

• Oh shit.

[hockeygossipunhinged]

https://www.tumblr.com/hockeygossipunhinged/753189402959822848/anon-who-posted-the-stuff-youve-heard-about-jack

i haven’t really heard things about quinn mainly cause he’s older and went to michigan when i was still in high school but from what i heard he’s the more serious guy when it comes to relationships wants the white picket fence golden retriever dog 3 kids perfect family and thinks more of the do i see a future with this person being my future wife now but he wasn’t a stranger to hooking up as we all occasionally do in college but sorry im closer in age to luke to put things on perspective but i haven’t heard any bad stories about him everyone always says he’s nice and respectful and no girls give him dirty faces when they see him unlike his brother

the things i’ve heard about luke are very hard due to him being very reserved when talking to girls and me being more friends with guys than girls but here’s everything i’ve heard through the grape vine:

-jack flirting with girls that he likes causing him to be insecure when it comes to talking and interacting with girls

-very very awkward and isn’t good at hiding it

-he only talks to the boys on the team when at parties he’d always be in arms reach which have led him to third wheel or be stuck in awkward conversation with the girls friends that according to my friend he looked absolutely miserable and was answering with um yeah idk basic filler words

-i saw this one with my own eyes and i felt terrible but two people were making out and when the guy pressed up against her she fell back onto him pinning him between a corner and a crowd of people for like 5 seconds he looked like he wanted to kill himself

-from what i’ve heard is he’s not into the big party scene and would rather stay home his teammates usually drag him out and sometimes he has fun and dances on the sidelines and other times he’s just waiting for the time to go down

-really doesn’t get drunk like has one or two beers to get a little buzz but nothing bad at least right now since he’s not 21 yet

-he dose hook up but not with many girls and is very straight up about this only being sexual and nothing serious he’s very sweet about sex like always asking if this is okay how the girl is feeling and they always leave pleased he’s no professional though still bonks girls in the head but we’ve all been their

-is awkward though like really awkward my girlfriends friend said she had to take over cause the awkwardness was turning her off but size wise big like 7 or 8 inches (and i believe her cause this girl has stopped a almost hookup when she wasn’t pleased with his size was)

-i haven’t heard any girls complaining about how long he lasts as they do for jack all they say is they wish he wasn’t as nervous and didn’t overthink it

-i’ve heard he chats on snap,insta and even sometimes messages but mainly snap and insta

-heard this from his teammates mouth chirping him about being a hopeless romantic and stills never had a girlfriend and he just turned red and did an awkward smile and the girl his teammate was with was like “you’ll find her someday”

-he’s very very reserved though and only talks about hockey and movies mainly just comedy’s but if you really want to get him talking just talk about all the food places around campus that you think serve the best food and he’ll debate you on it

-i’m more friends with guys though and thats all i’ve heard from my girlfriends friends but from guys its brutal and it comes off more jealousy than anything but they all say he’s secretly gay and they are obsessed obsessed with his private area( which as a lesbian gay as hell) but that’s only cause one of them dated a girl who’s hooked up with luke and they probably heard he was huge too

-they said he probably pays girls to say that and and they were like no way he has anything more than 4 inches i have no clue why guys care about other men’s junk but you know men always insecure about the man before them.

but that’s basically it he seems like a sweetheart and hopefully he finds someone that’ll be interested for him and not his brother

Reminder all of these are allegedlys and rumors so dont take as seriously pls

More on Quinn, Jack and Luke. Thanks anon

[yurinaa-world]

Hihihi!!! If its okay with you, could I please request an x reader with Dan Heng, Jing Yuan and Blade (platonically!) thats like the Collector from The Owl House? The readers a star child and has this kind of like sun and moon appearance and have a very childish personality !

Heres a link to the Collectors character if you haven't seen the show!

https://www.google.com/url?q=https://theowlhouse.fandom.com/wiki/The_Collector&sa=U&ved=2ahUKEwj_mK_wk_uEAxXVzDQHHWLKAwcQFnoECBoQAQ&usg=AOvVaw0h5oA7-5fony5qDSTZ04Jn

Please take your time when writing this, and if you feel unmotivated or don't want to, please ignore this 🫶 tysm!!!!

Characters: Dan Heng, Jing Yuan & Blade !platonic x Gender-neutral Reader

Synopsis: with a reader that's like the collector

Warnings fluff, spelling mistakes

𝒟𝒶𝓃 𝐻𝑒𝓃𝑔

You follow him around wherever you go, waiting for him to finish doing his work. When he’s done you drag him away to play with you.

You’ve played every game together and now you're kind of bored. Until Dan Heng comes back from his mission to this new planet with a game! Now you two can more fun

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Ugh, you're so bored. You don't know what to do anymore. Hanging upside down is the only thing you’re doing. Just feeling the dizziness slowly creeping in, giving you a slight headache. Just waiting for something to happen.

“I got you a gift.”

You see Dan Heng walk in front of you, seeing him holding a bag in one hand, making you immediately jump down to see what he got! “What is it!”

You smile brightly while he gives you the bag. Pulling out a…board game! A new one. 

“Woah! I've never seen this one before! You’ve gotta teach me how to play.”

𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃

He's the type to only let you win sometimes…if he’s feeling generous about even letting you get past half the board before striking all your pieces down. 

Oh don’t pout, it's just that he’s lucky today. Maybe you might have a chance in the next round.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Checkmate.”

Your eyes go wide when you see Jing Yuan get rid of your chess piece, leaving you the loser of this short round. “Ugh, I thought I was going to win!” You begin to sulk a little at this outcome.

“You must think more outside the box.”

He pokes your forehead, making you gently caress it and comfort it with your hands. “Outside the box?” You sigh

 “I’m always thinking outside, how much more?” 

𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒

I just know this man secretly loves kids (Ignore Yanqing). He has a soft spot in his ice-cold heart. Beside that soft spot is pettiness. You ain't winning that game Monopoly, he doesn't care if you want to win so badly, you’re going to have to accept the cruel world.

When you complain to him in that high-pitched voice, it just makes him cover his mouth to not laugh at your face. He might ruffle your hair and mess it up just to see you get red-faced.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Go to jail.”

You just stare at that stupid card as Blade is watching and waiting for you to move your piece into the jail zone. “No way.” You huff putting your piece into the jail space monopoly board while grinding your teeth before handing the dice.

But now you’re tired! Glaring and seething at dice as you get no doubles while Blade’s made it four times around the board, bought out most places, and maxed them all out.

You start to get restless watching him roll and land his piece, yet nothing happens to him. You snatch the dice and roll…only to get no double!! “I give up.” You whisper and pout, gripping at your hair, only to see him grinning at you.

“What? I can hear you.”

You feel embarrassed, before reluctantly saying it again yet even more quietly “I give up”

“What I can’t hear-“

“I give up, okay!

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[v1nsmoke]

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 // 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

oneshot - fallout's john hancock x reader

tw: mentions of drugs (usual hancock activity)

summary: after days of exiting goodneighbor, you and hancock finally get to talk

fandom: fallout

a/n: there is not enough talk about this fella omg… now that liking the ghoul from the fallout show is accepted, i can come forward (i chose the “romance hancock” option every playthrough). no pronouns used, so gender neutral ig? also the inspiration for the title is that one song thats viral on tiktok rn, also galvanized square steel mentioned

tags: -

wc: 0.6k

“Day twenty-five since leaving Vault 111, today is Monday and my location is Diamond City, it’s currently 2:41 PM. Me and my companion are at the noodle shop,” you say, speaking into your Pip-boy. 

Recently, you’ve been documenting every day, usually just a brief summary on that day’s experiences. These experiences consisted of hourly radroach attacks, accidental overdose on jet, or encounters with hostile Mr. Handy’s. Or accidental near-death situations with a deathclaw. That only happened once. 

You weren’t sure anybody would ever hear these, even better, be interested in these daily logs. Your companion seemingly couldn’t care less about these logs, as he ate his portion of ramen next to you. 

“The Institute remains undefeated, and I doubt it will change today, I’m not in the mood for it,” you continue.

“If it depended on your mood, it would be there forever,” Hancock cuts in with his sarcastic remark.

A sigh escapes your lips at his words.

“Maybe I should switch back to Dogmeat and send you back to Goodneighbor,” you reply.

“Now, what good would that do for you?”

“It would spare me from more of these remarks.”

“But can Dogmeat give you this?” He asks as he slides you a jet.

Hesitantly, but you accept it with a smile. 

“John Hancock, the ghoul you are,” you sigh.

A smile creeps onto his features. 

“See? You like me enough.”

“Whatever helps you sleep…”

You’ve been traveling with Hancock for the past week or so, after you accepted the offer of Bobby, who just so happened to lie to you. One thing led from another, and after finishing off Hancock’s bodyguard, you managed to solve the bad blood between the two of you by killing Bobby herself. 

Hancock was useful and good company, helping out where he could and making small talk with you. Not to mention that he was supplying you with a different kind of drug every day. They don’t have that stuff in Vaults…

Last night, the both of you got high as hell in the home you bought with hard-earned caps here, in Diamond City. It was mostly a box, so you decided to illegally expand it with galvanized square steel and eco-friendly wood veneers. So, after the finished construction - that lasted four days with the cheap and friendly workforce including Little John (Hancock) and yourself -, the two of you decided to celebrate.

He plopped down onto the mattress - the construction fee was too much for you to spend even more caps on a normal bed -, resting his back against the wall. You popped open a bottle of Nuka-Cola, taking your place on the mattress next to him.

“So, how do ya like it?” He asks, taking a Jet out of his pocket.

“So far so good,” you reply with a sigh.

“That’s all? Not ‘I love this place more than the Vault’?”

“I do like it more than the Vault, cause you’re here.”

He stays quiet for a few seconds before speaking up.

“That’s good.”

“That’s all? Not ‘Wow I, too, am really glad that I’ve got you and get to share Jet with you and that you defended me from that Deathclaw’?”

He lets out a slight chuckle, hanging his head low. 

“Thank you, then. For these past few days I’ve spent with you. Never thought I would find anybody who would accept me as their companion.”

© v1nsmokes 2024. Do not modify, translate or rewrite.

[quitealotofsodapop]

So the Macaque episode does still happen, only instead of trying to steal MK's powers, Macaque does a sudden change in plans and instead tries to get close to MK, acting as a very much unauthorized mentor and babysitter while Wukong is off searching for his cub... again. Just an entire afternoon of Macaque bonding with MK

Prev.

I think Macaque in canon ultimately wanted Wukong to Hurt more than anything, since c'mon, he *knows* his bestie is immortal-immortal. He mostly wanted Wukong to know what it feels like to be on the recieving end of his powers.

So when he realises that Wukong in the Marble Egg au has a cub; Macaque realises that the better revenge is becoming MK's favorite parent instead >:3

Irl macaque monkeys do in fact kidnap babies, both to babysit, and to make the mom hang out with them.

Wukong: (*worried sick from running all over town trying to find his son*) Macaque & MK: (*having a wholesome father-son training montage*)

The Noodle gang and The Stalwarts get involved in the search party, and the furious troop eventually track down where Macaque and MK are. Completely safe inside a theatre-dojo?

Macaque, grooming MK's fur: "Hey peaches." Wukong: "Don't you Hey peaches me! Give me back my son!" Macaque: "Okay he's yours." MK, runs into Wukong's arms: "Baba! Mr Liu'er is super cool! He's been helping me control my powers!" Wukong, suspicious: "He has?" (*looks over at Macaque*) Macaque, sly shrug: "Little guy needs a teacher. He's whacked himself with the Staff like six times today." MK, delighted: "I broke Mr Liu'er's wall of swords!" Wukong, checking over MK: "What?! Are you ok?!" Macaque: "He's alive isn't he?" Wukong: "Thats not the point! Do you know how many injuries can hide beneath the skin?! This is why I always hesitated to put you on babysitting duty back home!" Macaque: "And yet, the baby monkeys love me." Wukong: "That's because you can't say No to them!" Wukong & Macaque continue arguing like this as the gang watches Pigsy: "I'm a little confused. The Macaque guy just... wanted to babysit?" The Stalwarts, unanimous: "Yeah." Marshal Ma: "Macaque babysat the cubs for the longest time back home when we were younger." General Beng: "It's where he harnessed his power of storytelling." General Ba: "And his dramatics." Marshal Liu: "My question is whether this cub-napping was merely to fulfil an instinctual duty, or to force Wukong to talk to him?" Marshal Ma: "Oh definitely the latter. These two are about as stubborn as a pile of rocks." The Stalwarts: (*all murmur in agreement*)

Eventually after a lot of hissing (mostly from Wukong), the monkeys part without much violence. Strangely, Wukong doesn't tell Macaque to stay away or to never talk to his baby again...

As it turns out, having a baby monkey to care for acts as a buffer for monkey-arguments.

The Stalwarts do warn Macaque to at least tell one of them before he goes caring for MK in future or else they'll tear him apart like a banana for making their King worry. Macaque smiles and agrees to their terms.

Basically Wukong and Macaque have this sort of vibe in training/raising MK;

[pissfizz]

I remember why I stopped reading this fic oh my god

[starlooove]

He is in fact not cool with his friends killing people he just can’t do shit about it and the fact that he thinks he can do smth about (and does!) when it comes to his kids is like a major point

[poppy-metal]

could you PLS talk abt moody reader and bsf patrick. and i'm not even talking abt smut, just that dynamic. she's not necessarily rude all the time, just kinda hesitant to do things. he's always pushing her into doing things that he knows she'll enjoy eventually even if she's reluctant at first (and he's always right). like one time he finds out that she doesn't know how to swim, never learned bc her parents just never took her to lessons and now it's his mission to teach her. and he's always the one who initiates physical touch and she pretends like it bothers her when he hugs her while he's all sweaty but secretly loves the affection. and she's torn when patrick is asking abt her opinion on the new girl she's seeing bc on one hand, the new gf is pretty and nice and smart so she's not gonna lie and be a pick me (and patrick values his bsf's opinion sm so she knows she has to be careful) but she's on the other hand she's in love with him and that should be HER not the other girl. sorry for the rant LMAO i didn't think this was gonna turn out so long

oh to be patricks autistic - mistaken for a bitch - best friend. everything he does, if it was someone else you'd be so unbelievablely triggered and upset. putting you in a headlock when hes sweaty and gross, throwing his arm around you and dragging you into his side - you snap at him and call him disgusting but theres never any heat to it. you'd never admit but you like the attention, soak it up like a flower does the sun. its strange to compare patrick zweig to the sun but thats what he is to you - you're always gravitating towards him. reaching tendrils out. when one of your snarky remarks makes him laugh out loud you feel like you could walk on air. and he's alot of things like loud, and mouthy, and impulsive, but he also remembers your favorite order from your favorite places, he lets you borrow his hoodies when you're cold and he never asks for them back - you asked one day, secretly hoping he'd say no but worried he was missing them "do you want me to give em'back?" and he'd just jostled your shoulder with his shrug and shook his head "its fine - i have a shit ton, and you wear em' better anyways" - he shit talks people with you and doesn't say anything about your absolutely insane statements like "ill behead them all and use their bones for kindling." he just snorts and asks if you can make him a s'more. you love him a little desperately. a little so much that when you take a moment to really look at him, his sun freckled skin, the messy tangles and wisps of his hair, the way his nose curves, the way he stands, sits, moves his hands, it hurts.

it hurts especially bad when you remember you cant have him that way - the way he has other girls - the way he has them gasping and pleading in the back of his car, moaning his name - because you'll always just be his friend. the girl who can make him laugh so hard pepsi squirts out of his nose. never the girl he'd want flushed and in his bed.

(you're stupid.)

[nfnfnfnfndnfkfjfndksjsndnxjsojsn]

i feel like more people need to realize we are all share the same sky and none of us are truly ever alone

[charlattehotte]

I would umm like to stop finding out things

[orcelito]

I'm building up a rapport with the newest trans coworker. He's been here for a month or two now and he's pretty cool. Definitely in his sadboy era (judging by the music he listens to, which is SO me at age 20 ish. So like mood). Quiet, but with a wry sense of humor that's been coming out more lately.

I am very definitely out as Not Straight & he has seen this pretty clearly. Also since I'm in management I saw his birth certificate as part of paperwork stuff, so like. He's never upfront told me, but I know he's trans. I've never breathed a word of it to anyone, even to him tbh, so I hope he reads that as a good indicator that I'm Chill

I was complaining yesterday about how heavy the ginger juice was and he was just like "..Gender juice?" As in he misheard me and was genuinely confused what I was talking about. And I was just like. "Oh yeah. Gender Juice. Ya kno." Idk just one of those stupid things that purely cis ppl wouldn't joke about. So I rly hope he's getting not cis vibes from me. Bc I am not out as nonbinary at work bc Oof but like. We r Brothers, him and I. Maybe someday I can mention it. Idk

[hauntingblue]

And WHERE is the gyojin island road poneglyph

[mrfoox]

I love how me and Oliver is the opposite on everything but we still just get along

I'm just The Lover ™

And he's The Hater ™

But i still appriciate his way of thinking and that he is more grounded than me. On some topics he's more idealistic than me and I love that too

[nereidprinc3ss]

slumber party

in which there's only one bed. fem bau!reader x spencer reid

fluff! warnings/tags: dark humor, (the word molest is used jokingly once but in my defense your honor its completely on brand for early seasons cm humor, if u cancel me u have to cancel the whole cast those are the rules, its just a joke cause reader always flirts w him aggressively, pls don't come for me i have a wife and children and three boyfriends to take care of,) mutual pining, bullying and death threats as flirting, they love each other so much and bicker like children, glasses spencer, (moans), emily and rossi are mentioned bc canon means fuck all to me, i think thats it but this is my most out of pocket duo so if i'm wrong lmk a/n: just a silly little thing that i cooked up, not a masterpiece but i think its cute!! I hope u enjoy!! lmk what you think!! looooveee youuuu

“Oh, there is no way.”

Your duffel bag hits the dingy carpet as Spencer is still closing the door behind you. 

“What? Is it—”

You give him a look over your shoulder, eyebrows raised as if to say, what are you going to do about this?

But he only manages to meet your eyes for a split second before they’re back to the singular queen bed, darting over the white sheets and pillows like he might find another mattress if he looks hard enough. 

Sharing a room with Spencer, you can handle. You've done it before. Whenever the team has to pair up at a hotel, you two are an obvious choice. And while you occasionally butt heads, mostly you adore each other and it's great.

But sharing a bed is a whole other situation.

One you were not prepared for. And evidently, neither is he.

Watching his big anxious eyes flit around the room nervously, you feel sort of bad for your reaction. You know you can be a bit… abrasive, sometimes. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just—I’ll see if I can share a bed with Emily or JJ in their room—”

Just then there’s a knock at the door. Spencer looks relieved to have something else to focus on, turning back around and quickly undoing the latch again before opening the door to reveal your favorite raven-haired SSA. Emily leans past the doorjamb, eyes immediately honing in on the awkward sleeping arrangement. 

“Oh my god! You guys too?”

“What?” You and Spencer ask at the same time. Emily raises her eyebrows at this and glances between you, but otherwise doesn’t comment. 

“Me and JJ only have the one bed. I thought it might just have been us.”

You frown. There goes your plan of sharing a room with them. 

“What about Morgan and Garcia?”

Spencer snorts.

“Something tells me Penelope wouldn’t be too torn up about it if that's the case.”

“Hotch and Rossi?”

The room goes quiet and a little chilly as the thought disturbs everyone equally. Emily frowns deeply.

“I don’t even… I can’t picture that.”

“Can we please not try to picture it?”

“Great. Okay, well. I just wanted to make sure everyone is suffering equally. Good luck, champs.”

“Thanks,” Spencer mutters dryly. Emily smiles, eyes darting between the two of you for just a moment too long, before pushing off the door frame and disappearing from sight. Once the door is closed again, a heavy silence ensues. “I’ll… I can take the floor—”

“It’s fine, Spencer. I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor. We’re both grown-ups. Besides, we like each other, right? It’ll be like a slumber party.”

“I’ve never had one,” he admits. His glasses slip further down his nose as he frowns. Your fingers itch to push them back up. 

“Then I’m happy to be your first,” you tease, facing him fully with your hand on your hip and barely resisting the urge to add, I’ll be gentle. “Do you want the shower first or can I?”

Spencer has a habit of looking you up and down like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Some might find it odd, but his utter lack of social graces is, lucky for him, incredibly endearing to you. 

“You can have it first,” he says, meeting your eyes again. “Just don’t do that thing where you get the entire bathroom soaking wet.”

“Aw. But I love doing that. It’s my favorite part,” you tease, scooping up your bag once more.

Twenty minutes later you’re emerging from the bathroom with damp hair, clad in loose shorts and a college hoodie. 

“Nice outfit,” Spencer says from the spinny-chair at the desk, examining your outfit choice with a scrutiny you wish you’d been prepared for. Really, you wish you’d known ahead of time you’d have a roommate and brought some alternate sleeping clothes. “I had no idea you felt so passionately about… Scooby Doo?”

“Shut up right now,” you grit, tossing your bag into the corner of the room and tugging your hoodie down over your cartoon-patterned shorts as far as you can. 

“What?” He’s laughing as he brushes past you on his way into the bathroom, bearing his own bag. “It’s a good look for you.”

Your face is burning as you choose the side of the bed furthest from the door. Springs creak underneath your weight as you sink down, sitting with your legs hanging off the side for a moment before swinging them up onto the mattress, leaning against the headboard and side-eyeing the empty space next to you. There’s really not very much of it. The bed feels even smaller than it looks. 

From the bathroom you hear the sound of the shower squeaking and starting up again—a cacophony of droplets against tile on the other side of the wall. You try not to be nervous as you imagine Spencer filling the space beside you in just a few minutes, hair wet and in pajamas. And yet you spend each second wondering if he’s almost done, wondering if the shower will finally sputter to a halt, and once it does, wondering how long it’ll be before he’s out again. It’s ridiculous how impatient you're getting—and by the time you finally watch the door knob twist you feel crazy. 

“I think that was your longest shower yet, Dr. Reid.”

The teasing affords you a moment to ogle him head to toe, taking in his choice of pajamas—tonight, familiar plaid pants and an MIT crewneck—as well as his hair which has already begun to dry. Briefly you wonder if he does that thing guys do, where they lean down and haphazardly dry their hair with a towel because they have no concern for its texture whatsoever. But you kind of doubt it, because his hair always looks so soft. 

“You were sitting here waiting for me?” He chuckles, and honestly you’d been expecting a shyer response. But you adapt quickly. 

“Maybe I was. Big spoon or little spoon?”

“Ha-ha.” He opens a drawer in the dresser and begins unpacking his clothes into it. It's a funny habit of his. You never unpack your duffel. “You took the better side of the bed.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m the woman. I get to do that.”

“Well you should know that if an intruder breaks in, I’m not fighting him off. You’d probably have a better chance than me.”

“And my chances will be even better if he’s distracted with you first.”

“So I’m just bait?” He scoffs, looking back at you. Strands of wet hair hang so prettily around his face, like the perfect frame around a work of art. You smile sweetly from your spot on the bed before playfully biting at the air in his direction. The message goes unspoken but reads loud and clear. Of course you are. You make such good bait. 

That gets a blush out of him and he has nothing else to say as he turns back to his drawer. Happily you lean back against the headboard, stretching your legs out and bouncing slightly in place. Beneath you the mattress springs groan and squeak in protest. 

“I hope you're not going to be this irritating all night.”

It's clearly lighthearted, but you promptly stop and frown at his back. 

“Call me irritating again and see where you end up sleeping tonight.”

“I just don’t see how you’re even more hyperactive than usual right now. Has anybody ever told you that you’re crepuscular?” Spencer asks, finally sliding the drawer shut and going to shut the overhead light off. Your eyes narrow. 

“Obviously nobody has told me that.”

“It means y—”

“I’m most energetic within the few hours around dusk and dawn. Contrary to your belief, Dr. Reid, other people are also capable of looking up words in a dictionary and remembering what they mean. Are you going to stand in the corner all night or are you gonna come to bed?”

“I am,” he scoffs, clearly embarrassed and shy and embarrassed of being shy. “I’m just… you look like you kick in your sleep. And hog the blankets.”

You shrug, folding your knees to your chest and hugging them quaintly. 

“I’ve never had any complaints. In fact, you should be so lucky to share a bed with me. All five star reviews, baby.” 

You toss a suggestive wink in at the end, which seems garish enough to break the tension so that Spencer can stop lingering in the corner like a sleep-paralysis demon and move to carefully take his place next to you. He almost mirrors your position, but his legs are too long to quite manage your level of compactness and so they simply fold underneath him. A few silent moments go by, in which you have the dumbest smile on your face and you keep glancing over to the side, waiting for him to be looking back at you. 

“This is already the least relaxed I have ever been in a bed.”

“Good thing we’re not going to sleep yet.”

Finally he looks at you, a casual mix of hesitance, concern, and moderate curiosity coloring his features. 

“We’re not?”

“Oh, my god, Spencer,” you snort. “I’m not gonna molest you. We have to do slumber party stuff, remember?”

He flushes again, glancing at the digital clock in his bedside table. 

“But it’s late. We should go to sleep.”

“At slumber parties you have to stay up until you literally can’t keep your eyes open anymore. Those are the rules. I don’t make them.”

Still, your insistence that you follow the international code of sleepover law goes unabided by Spencer. He simply leans over to flick off his lamp, bathing the room in darkness. 

“I appreciate the effort,” he says, and your eyes haven’t adjusted but you can hear the rustle of sheets and blankets as he gets under them, “but unfortunately we have to be awake and alert in five hours.”

“You’re no fun,” you huff, but climb under your own side of the cover and scoot down until you’re flat on your back, covered in blanket and hands folded on your sternum. 

Spencer doesn’t respond. 

It’s silent for maybe five minutes, during which your brain doesn’t slow down at all. Maybe you are crepuscular. Or slightly nocturnal. You have nothing but energy. 

In an attempt to get comfortable, you try adjusting your position.

The mattress squeaks. 

You do it again. 

Another squeak. 

A second goes by, and now you’re intentionally jostling about, squeaking the mattress as much as you can. 

“Would you stop that?” Spencer says, voice already gravelly with sleep. You manage, but you’re already devolving into a fit of giggles. “I’m going to smother you with this pillow,” he threatens, but you hear the disgruntled smile curling his words. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood to rest.”

Another moment passes. He sighs deeply. You smile into the dark. 

“What are you in the mood for?” He asks flatly, and you’ve won. 

“Tell me a secret,” you immediately demand in a hushed tone, flipping on your side to face his back. “Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

“I don’t—”

“Shh! You have to whisper it. Those are the slumber party rules.”

“I don’t have any secrets,” he whispers, clearly flustered, and to your delight, rolling to face the ceiling. “None that you’d want to hear.”

“Oh, now that’s just not true. You’re an enigma, Spencer Reid. You fascinate me.”

You’re only sort of kidding. 

“I… fascinate you?”

“Completely. You know, ever since you moved your desk across from mine I get distracted just staring at you and wondering what you’re thinking about. But you’re very… hard to read, sometimes. I think it’s because you’re a Scorpio.”

“The position of the stars at the time I was born has no bearing on my personality.”

“Fine,” you concede, still in a glorified stage whisper. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t display the archetypal Scorpio traits. You’re all brooding, mysterious. Kinda, I don't know... intense and sexy and unknowable…”

“Sexy?” He laughs, breaking the whisper rule. You grin and let it slide. You’d hoped he would catch that one. 

“Hey,” you snap, losing the smile immediately and lightly shoving against what you hope is his shoulder. “You’re supposed to be telling me a secret, damnit. I won’t let your wiles and charm distract me from getting what I want.”

“When have you ever let anything stop you from getting what you want?”

Truly, your cheeks are going to start aching with this constant back and forth between poker-faced and huge Cheshire smile. 

“Stop flirting and answer my question, Reid.”

With the amount of times you’ve made him sigh tonight he must be dizzy. You chew your lip apprehensively in the silence, picking a loose thread on your pillow. It’s so pitch black in the room, you can’t see him where he lies only a few meager inches from you. But you can feel his presence. You can feel the unexpected bass to his voice when he’s tired and speaking this lowly, which you’ve never heard before.

“All the secrets I’ve never told anyone are just… depressing.”

Your heart sinks a little at the way he swallows between words, like that in and of itself was hard to admit. Unthinkingly your hand slides into the small gap of white cotton between the two of you. 

“Not very good slumber party material, I think,” he laughs self-consciously. 

“You’d be surprised.” 

The sentiment comes quieter and more serious than you’ve been all night. If only you had the words to tell him that he can tell you anything. That you want to hold his secrets for him under lock and key. That you would never, ever do anything less than offer him kindness and support—even if it doesn’t always seem that way when you’re teasing him. 

“Do you have any secrets you’ve never told anyone else?” He murmurs eventually, so soft it could kill you. 

And you do. There are plenty of dark ones, probably not all dissimilar from those he’d elected not to share only a moment ago. 

But you don’t bring those up. 

Instead, you decide to admit to something silly. Still, it makes you nervous as you feel it coming loose in your chest. You’ve really never told anyone this, and it’s perhaps more vulnerable than you’d realized before the words were already leaving your mouth. 

“I, have…” You pause to laugh at yourself, and continue on. “I have a stuffed dragon that I take with me on every single case.”

“You do?” Spencer laughs, so loud and unexpected it almost hurts your ears, angling his head toward you. Blood rushes to your face. 

“Yes. He usually sleeps in bed with me. He’s an excellent listener and has been the origin of several of my most genius breakthroughs. You remember Gibson Cooper?”

“Family annihilator from Houston?” 

“Correct. He’s in prison because Oscar helped me make the Cook Creek Campground connection between the O’Hara and Diangelo families.”

“You have a stuffed profiler dragon named Oscar? Is he here?”

“He’s—I mean, I wasn’t expecting to share a room with someone.”

“So he’s in your bag.”

“Yes,” you seethe, “and I will not be introducing you to him. He doesn’t do well with men.”

“You are genuinely psychotic.”

You huff.

“Fine. I’m sorry I told you anything.”

You’re about to roll over onto your other side—but Spencer surprises you by catching the hand that had been outstretched in his direction. He carefully intertwines your fingers and squeezes gently. 

“You’re right. That was mean. Thank you for telling me about Oscar.” His tone is surprisingly teasing, and you’re so uncharacteristically flustered by this rare show of physicality and affection that you can’t muster an adequate comeback. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind filling your silence, though, sounding a little more solemn now. “I’m sorry I don’t have any secrets for you.”

The way his voice gets all thin and scratchy sometimes—it’s like the earnest sincerity just pours out of him. He can’t control it. He can’t be anyone other than who he is. Maybe that’s a part of why you love him so much. You wonder if he knows how much you love him. It’s not exactly a secret—anyone on the team would be able to tell as much. You’ve been relentlessly teased for the way you are with him. For your batting lashes and your lingering touches and your unabashed flirting. But beneath it all is true affection, and nobody doubts that. 

“It’s okay,” you decide with a squeeze of your own, after a moment of deliberation. “You’ll think of something. ’Cause, y’know—you’re stuck with me for at least a few more days.”

“Oh, god,” he laughs, and releases your hand, rolling over to face away from you. But you don’t mind. You’ll get lots more time to invade his personal space over the coming week or so. “Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams,” you sing-song, turning away to face the wall with what is perhaps your biggest, stupidest smile yet.

[arieslost]

personally since I want to take a nice bite outta oscar (and you do too)

what about an oscar x gf!reader who just constantly bites him, not hard enough to leave a mark (thats only in bed) but just a little chomp

like he has an arm around her shoulder while talking to Lando and she just turns her head and *chomp*

lord knows i wanna give that man a nice little monch. just a little 🤏🏻 little bit

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

chomp | op81

something about oscar unlocked the habit within you. he’s just so… yummy. all the time. so one day you acted on the urge to bite him. you did it gently, just barely sinking your teeth into the skin covering the taunt muscle of his bicep when you were cuddled up together in bed. he liked it; encouraged it even, so you never really looked back.

instead of “pinch me,” he soon adopted the phrase “bite me” in its place. it was just an affectionate thing that you did when your feelings for him became so overwhelming words failed you. it happens more often than not— just looking at him and knowing he’s yours is enough to render you speechless.

his instant enjoyment of your gentle bites had you dismissing the behavior as normal quickly, so it now comes as a surprise to you when other people have a visceral reaction to it.

you never pay much mind to what people say on social media, particularly twitter, but almost every day you’re greeted with the sight of you being caught biting oscar and hundreds of people asking what your problem is. it mostly stemmed from the one time that oscar asked (more like begged) you to leave a mark in the throes of a passion-charged moment that happened the night before qualifying and thus it was clear as day to everyone in the paddock the next morning.

you were usually careful to bite parts of him that were almost always concealed. his thighs, his hips, his shoulders, the junction between his shoulder and neck. but he’d been adamant that you bite his neck and leave a mark, and who were you to tell him no? so the whole world ended up becoming privy to your little habit. but oscar never gave anyone the time of day when asked about it, so it never crossed your mind to stop.

now, lando had been the very first to tease him about that infamous mark on his neck, but he’d never been there to see it happen. until today.

oscar had insisted that you join him while he and lando were waiting to be called in for a race debrief, with the promise that he’d take you out for dinner afterwards. you’re always happy to spend extra time with your boyfriend, of course, so you were more than happy to agree.

except lando has a special talent for boring you out of your mind with extremely technical talk. and he loves to talk. you need something to do in order to not implode from boredom, and oscar’s arm is right there, wrapped around your shoulders, so you turn your head and lightly bite the thin skin of his wrist.

the sudden silence is deafening as lando stops talking in the middle of his sentence.

“i thought that was just a weird rumor. you actually bite him?” lando asks.

“um, yeah,” you reply slowly. “so?”

“got a problem with my girlfriend, mate?” you can feel the muscles of your boyfriend’s arm flexing around you as he tenses up a little.

“nope. no. not at all,” his teammate is quick to respond, hand reaching back to scratch his neck. “carry on. i’ll just act like i’m not here.”

so you do, biting him a little harder as a silent chill out. he just kisses your temple, stifling his laughter.

when it’s finally time for their meeting, you’ve traveled from oscar’s wrist all the way up to the inside of his elbow, grazing your teeth along his skin and inhaling his addictive scent. you’d happily do this for hours, and you pout when he separates himself from you.

as an apology, he leaves you with a parting whisper of, “you’re gonna bite me harder than that tonight, right?” that has your whole body heating up.

word count: 638

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dividers by @/saradika

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