#so if others send prompts i can't guarantee they'll get done

[fawnfictions]

i know there’s a lot of this same prompt on this app but i love your writing and i would love to see it from you <33

OK!! Macaque and Wukong with a gender natural reader which simply LOVES their fur and gets really clingy on their tail and ear(s for macaque :3), treating them like a literal plushie

monkie plush!

— wukong & macaque, gn!reader

i feel the need to personally apologise for how many months it took for me to post this <//3 i've been SO SLOW recently,, i can't guarantee i'll be getting any faster, either

heheuwudhhey!! none of u should worry about sending me an ask with a 'common' prompt—just because someone else has done it before, doesn't mean i won't want to write it!!! i like giving ppl my own opinion on these sorts of headcanons LOL

;; fluff, fluff, and more fluff!! (+mention of something more spicy, but nothing explicit)...

WUKONG

- he RELISHES in any affection you give him, and he isn't afraid to show it.

- you'll come up behind him, embrace him while rubbing your face in his fur, and he will MELT.

- leans back into your arms, wrapping his tail around you to pull you even closer; and, if you're listening closely, you might hear quiet purring.

- honestly, he'll do the same to you — compared to monkey hair, human hair is VERY soft and feels very nice :3

- cuddles between you two are just constantly rubbing your faces in each others hair.

- i can also imagine that his tail would be sensitive, as most monkey's tails are...

- be careful, though, because certain areas of his tail are more sensitive than others — you may run into a situation you didn't mean to...

- ...ANYWAYS

- while i can imagine him being the big spoon a majority of the time, he could TOTALLY be a little spoon.

- he enjoys being able to hold YOU, since he likes feeling in control, and as if he's protecting you, but he'll happily sit back and let you cuddle him.

- play with his hair, twirl his tail, brush him...

- tbh, the other monkeys would probably join you a lot, interpreting it as a grooming session.

- me and the boys [monkeys], grooming each other on a sunday morning.

- he will complain, though, if you don't let him cuddle YOU sometimes.

- you two are almost sickening with the amount of PDA you show; cue MK pretending to puke in the background, but Wukong does have SOME decency, and will get a little embarrassed if you take it too far.

- if you're both out in public, chilling in Megapolis or something, and you start rubbing your face in his fur and cooing at him? he'll go red pretty quickly, and shyly respond with small affections in an attempt to sate your clinginess for now.

- this especially goes for being around people he feels the need to keep a reputation up with — like, the brotherhood, although most of them would laugh it off, they'll tease him for it at some point, or anyone from the celestial realm.

- he'll make it up to you later with plenty of cuddles, but for now? he's gotta look cool and tough in front of lil' old Nezha /j

MACAQUE

- hes touch starved as hell (we all know it).

- BUT he gets shy when it comes to affection, but he's hypocritical about it...

- constantly drapes himself over your shoulders, resting his head on top of your own when he gets the chance, etc etc.

- however, if you DARE even try to hug him, he's gonna get real nervous.

- doesn't know how to properly relax at your touch; he may not exactly move away from you, but he won't lean into it (at first).

- this especially goes for PDA – he loves you, but not now; he's gotta look cool and mysterious at all times.

- if you're with people that he lets his guard down around, he'll be a bit more playful with you.

- he notices you attempting to sneak behind him for a cuddle attack? next thing you know, theres a familiar cape-covered arm thrown over your shoulder, blocking your affection with his own with a teasing smile.

- he IS different when in private, though !!

- more willing to give in to your touches, but it is clear that he's unsure how to feel about it.

- after a while, though, i feel that he would learn to find a lot of comfort in your hands ?

- like, if he's had a rough day, he'll probably seek you out to be showered in affection,, in a way, it makes him feel very loved and worthy.

- he's such a little spoon too, i'm sorry LOL

- but he has his confident days, just ask and he'll be happy to be the one holding you instead.

- it took a while for him to be comfortable with normal affection, yeah? well, it's gonna take even LONGER for him to be comfortable with touching his ears, let alone losing the glamour on them.

- the day he lets his glamour down around you, is the day he's decided that you're stuck with him forever, sorry to break it to you...

- his ears are VERY sensitive, so please be careful, he's very cautious with you touching them.

- but he'll never admit how nice it feels for you to massages his ears, especially with how much stress they give him from the loud noises in the city (not that you can't tell, he's practically melted into your lap and would ABSOLUTELY be purring if he could).

- overall, it takes time, and he won't ever be fully comfortable with PDA, but he's a big softie in private <3

[prydon]

oh i adore ur writing, do u take prompts by any chance? if u do, would u ever consider writing a fic inspired by the recent drunk juno and smitten peter art? thank u, have a nice day 💞

thank you for liking my writing!!! :D tbh i haven’t considered myself enough of a fic writer to take prompts in years, but i loved that art and i love writing jupeter so much that i just had to give this a go.

so here you go! inspired by this WONDERFUL art by @honeyjarr. you can read it on ao3 here or down below! 

set post-man in glass but pre jupeter being in an established relationship. CWs for alcohol consumption, brief reference to sarah steel being sarah steel, minor injuries, and non-explicit talking/joking about sex.

----

Nureyev had never seen Juno Steel drunk before.

For all his insistence that he was ‘getting drunker by the second’ back in his apartment on that fated night when Nureyev had gifted him a name and kiss, Nureyev knew he had been far from truly drunk, then. Juno was a broad man, and one with a long history of drinking. Unlike Nureyev, he held his liquor well.

Now, on board the Carte Blanche, he had been trying to cut down on his alcohol consumption. It was part of his recovery, part of leaving behind the mess of poor coping mechanisms and bad decisions that used to make up Detective Juno Steel.

So when Buddy had pulled out the bottle, it was only with assurance from Jet and Juno that they were both okay with it- and when Juno had asked her to pour him a glass, he did so with the promise that he wasn’t using the alcohol to deal with any bad feelings that ought to be handled another way.

“Rita and I used to get drunk sometimes and watch the lowest-rated streams we could find,” he said. “It was…fun.”

Rita nodded enthusiastically. “Mistah Steel would always start yelling and throwing popcorn at the screen!”

“Very well, then,” Buddy said. “I trust your judgement, Juno.”

Nureyev kept one eye on Juno as he sipped his own drink, curious. What kind of a drunk was Juno? Sobbing? Angry? …Handsy?

He folded his hope for the latter away.

Nureyev seldom ever drank, and never on the job. It was too risky. Drinking meant losing your inhibitions, losing control over your emotions, and if there was anything that Nureyev desperately didn’t want to lose, it was that. His persona was perfectly crafted. He couldn’t risk letting a bottle of wine or liquor crumble it.

He was already tipsy after his first glass, which was embarrassing. He intended to stop there- to perhaps ask for a refill, but only pretend to sip it before surreptitiously dumping it. As soon as the second one was poured, however, he found himself actually drinking it.

Something about these people made him feel safe enough to allow some loss of inhibition. That realization terrified him, but he kept drinking nonetheless.

Juno had almost finished his third glass, and only now seemed to be feeling the effects of it. He was talking more loudly than he had been before, and his eyes were slightly unfocused. He shot Nureyev a glance and the thief took another sip, mostly just to hide the blush that was creeping up his face courtesy of both the alcohol and the sight of Juno, who was looking handsomely disheveled with his hair mussed and his sweater slipped down around his shoulders.

After Jet excused himself to bed early, they somehow ended up in a game of Never Have I Ever, which Nureyev had never heard of but Juno insisted was a staple among schoolkids in Oldtown.

“All right!” Rita said. “Never have I ever…done it in a public place.”

Nureyev raised an eyebrow. “If by ‘it’, you mean sexual intercourse…” He took a drink, and then nearly spat it back out when he saw Juno drink, too.

“What?” Juno said innocently. “You drank.”

“You’re both gross,” Vespa growled at them.

“Really? In all your life, you’ve never once given in to the heat of the moment?” Nureyev asked, trying to distract himself from his own brain, which was currently insistent on conjuring up artist’s interpretations of Juno on a park bench, or in a theater, or-

“It’s private! You do it inside!”

“Sometimes you just don’t have many options!” Juno protested.

“Ugh, whatever. Here, I’ll go next…”

Nureyev was very, very bad at the game, as it turned out. What could he say: he was an adventurous man, and one who’d lived a rich life. He wasn’t going to apologize for that. It didn’t hurt that Juno was drinking almost as often as he was, either. He carefully filed away all of the lady’s responses to the various statements, mentally marking some as being in desperate need of further follow up.

Juno Steel had never swum in the ocean.

Juno Steel had set a cop car on fire.

Juno Steel had participated in a foursome.

It was all very important information. Nureyev only hoped he’d actually remember it tomorrow. That was seeming less and less likely, the tipsier he got. He tried to take small sips throughout the game, but by the time it had ended, he knew he was gone. He’d regret letting that happen once he was sober, of course, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I think that’s enough for this evening,” Buddy said after a while, seeming to sense that both Nureyev and Juno were looking rather worse for the wear.

“One more!” Rita insisted. “Never have I ever…almost fallen out a window ‘cause I was chasing after a love letter.”

“Rita!” Juno exclaimed. “I told you that in confidence! Plus, that doesn’t count. It’s targeting! That’s…against the rules!”

“There ain’t no rules, Mistah Steel!”

“Ugh, fine,” Juno said, and drank.

Nureyev couldn’t help being curious, and even- ridiculously- jealous. Who had written Juno a love letter? Who had Juno cared so much about that even he, acrophobic as he was, had been willing to nearly jump out a window to save a note from them?

By all means, it could have happened decades ago. There was no reason to be envious. Nureyev had realized that he was prone to envy when it came to Juno Steel, however, and the alcohol was likely just heightening the emotion.

“Mistah Ransom’s got a funny look on his face,” Rita commented.

“Yeah, ‘cause he knows it was his letter,” Juno grumbled.

“Really!? Mistah Steel, you never told me that!”

“…Didn’t come up.”

Nureyev froze, feeling something warm spread through him. Ah. “You…kept my note? I didn’t realize.”

“Don’t have it anymore. It got lost somewhere along the way. It’s been…a hectic past few months,” Juno said, sounding genuinely upset by the loss. Then he frowned. “What, Ransom, did you really not realize Rita was talking about your note?”

“I…”

A wide smile spread over Juno’s face. “Oh, my god. Your expression a moment ago…were you jealous of yourself!?”

Nureyev felt himself turn beet red. “N- no.”

“You were!”

Juno burst out laughing. Unlike his usual laughs, which on the rare occasions that they surfaced were quiet and restrained, almost as though he didn’t believe he was deserving of laughter, this one was loud and unburdened. It was a full body laugh, and it lit Juno up so beautifully that Nureyev could almost forget that it was at was at his expense.

Nureyev could guess, then, what kind of drunk Juno was. He was the kind whose current predominate emotion, whatever it was, was exacerbated by the alcohol. When he was sad, he’d end up crying into his drinks. When he was angry, there would be yelling and picking fights.

Right now, Juno was happy.

Even just the flickering, uncertain smiles he had shot Nureyev during their mission to retrieve the map had been enough to nearly bowl the thief over, and now here he was. Smiling a smile big enough to cut the moon in half.

“You know, one time Benzaiten won an award for having the Galaxy’s Best Smile. Can you believe that?!”

Nureyev had never known Juno’s brother, of course, and all he knew of him now came from those little glimpses that Juno gave him when he felt safe enough to voice them. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Benzaiten had deserved the accolade, though, if he had indeed had the same smile as Juno.

Juno definitely had the best smile in the entire galaxy. In all the galaxies, surely. And it made Nureyev feel emotions of an enormity that he had never before experienced. He wanted to live in that smile. He wanted to make a home in it. He wanted to lean forward, grab Juno by the face, and kiss him in front of everyone. He wanted to feel that smile against his lips.

It took every ounce of self restraint he had not to do so, and he gripped his glass, begging the last sober vestiges of himself to keep him from acting on any ridiculous notions.

He didn’t kiss Juno, thankfully.

He did do something else, though.

Crack.

“Oh. Dear,” he said. “These things aren’t very sturdy, are they?”

Before he could even realize what was happening, his glass had shattered to pieces in his hand, and his nice clothes that had surely cost the person he’d stolen them from several thousand creds were drenched in alcohol and littered with shards of glass.

“Nur- Ransom!” Juno exclaimed, immediately concerned, and in the moment all that Nureyev could think was how sad he was that the smile had vanished from the lady’s face. “What the hell happened?!”

“I believe I broke the glass.”

“Christ! Do you have the grip strength of a goddamn metal vice?” Juno’s voice sounded shocked and more than a little bit impressed. Nureyev couldn’t help feeling rather pleased about the latter. Then, suddenly, the ex-detective was back to looking concerned. “Ransom, you’re bleeding.”

He looked down at his hand. “Ah.”

“We- we need to get this cleaned up. Get you cleaned up,” Juno said. He swayed slightly as he made his way to Nureyev’s side to worriedly inspect his hand. If his drunkenness had been boosting his happiness before, it was now boosting his anxiety and fear.

“I’m all right,” Nureyev insisted. “Just a cut. Barely even hurts.” He didn’t want Juno to worry. He just wanted to see that smile again.

Vespa let out a long groan. “Ugggggggh. You two are the worst. I’ll go grab the nearest first aid kit. Ransom, Steel can get you your bandaid. I’m going to bed. You got this, Steel?”

Juno nodded. “I’ve patched myself up enough times to know how.”

“Great.”

She was back in a moment with the kit, handing it off to Juno before dragging Buddy off to bed.

“Good night, darlings,” Buddy said as she was pulled away. “Rita, I think you’d best leave them be, too.”

Rita frowned. “But what if they need my- Oooooooh. Okay.” She waved and winked comedically aggressively at Juno. “G’night, Mistah Steel and Mistah Ransom! Mistah Ransom, I hope you feel better soon!”

“Good night, Rita,” Nureyev said, feeling vaguely lightheaded. It wasn’t from the wound- that wasn’t nearly bad enough to warrant such a response. If he had to guess, it was from Juno being so close that he could feel his breath. From the soft, reverent way he was currently cleaning the cuts on Nureyev’s hands.

Juno looked up to watch Rita go. “What was that about?”

“No idea.”

Juno’s next words were softer and slightly slurred. “…Are you mad at me?”

Nureyev stared at him, completely lost. “What? Why would I be mad at you?”

“I was…I was laughing at you. Then you broke the glass. Did you break it because you were mad? Ma did that sometimes. I- I shouldn’t have laughed. Shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry-”

“Hush, Juno,” Nureyev said. “I’m not angry in the slightest. Really, it was rather funny. And I’m touched that you went that far just to rescue my note.”

“Then…why?”

“Why did I break the glass? I suppose I underestimated my own strength.”

“Why were you gripping it so hard, though?!”

What could he tell Juno? He studied his hand, not wanting to admit the truth. He couldn’t very well say, I found your smile so beautiful that if I hadn’t held onto something as hard as I could, I would have surely lunged forward and kissed you right there.

He looked up to find Juno staring at him, wide-eyed. “Really?”

“I…did not mean to say that out loud,” Nureyev said. “Apologies, Juno. I seem to be rather drunk.”

“You don’t say.” Juno snorted. A glimmer of a smile reappeared on his face, to Nureyev’s delight. “That’s really why, though? You wanted to kiss me?”

“Well, yes,” Nureyev said, flustered. “You have a very…nice smile.”

“Well, I’m not stopping you.”  

Juno suddenly looked embarrassed, almost shy. Hopeful, too.

Nureyev had lost the ability to think coherent thoughts.

“Oh. Okay,” he stammered.

He gently took Juno’s face in his freshly bandaged hand as he’d imagined doing not much earlier, and pulled him into a deep kiss. The lady’s lips were as soft and warm as always. They still tasted like drink, but also something so purely Juno that Nureyev was certain he could have gotten drunk on that taste alone.

He shifted, moving closer. Juno mirrored his actions, shuffling across the carpet to reach him, and then-

“Ow!”

Juno swore and broke away, to Nureyev’s dismay. It took him a moment to figure out what was wrong: there was still broken glass on the carpet.

“Are you all right?” Nureyev asked.

“Mm. Just pricked me. We should really get this cleaned up.” He hesitated. “On second thought, picking up glass while drunk might not be a good idea. Let’s just…mark it off so no one steps on it and then go to bed. We can deal with it in the morning.”

They did just that. Nureyev hated that even though Juno had drunk much more than him, he was the one leaning on Juno for balance as they walked back to his room. He couldn’t stop thinking about that smile. He wondered what it would take to make Juno smile like that while sober, and decided that whatever it was, he was going to figure it out.

When they reached the door to Nureyev’s room, Juno paused.

“Make sure you drink some water before you go to sleep,” he said. “And don’t use your right hand more than you have to, so it can heal.”

“I know, I know.”

There was an awkward but companionable silence for a moment. Nureyev wanted more than anything to invite Juno into his room to stay the night, but he knew he shouldn’t. They weren’t there yet, and besides, that wasn’t a step that he wanted to take while under the influence.

“I can’t believe you really broke a glass because of me,” Juno said finally, smirking.

“Oh, shush. It’s your own fault. If you hadn’t…looked like that, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“Well, I’m so sorry. In the future I’ll refrain from ‘looking like that’.”

“Please don’t,” Nureyev said immediately.

“…Okay. Then I won’t.”

Nureyev moved to open his door, then hesitated, chewing his lip. “Juno…there’s something I need to ask you.”

Juno immediately knit his brow, his shoulders tensing. “What is it?”

“About the time you had sex in a public place-”

The ex-detective groaned loudly and gave him a good-natured shove. “I don’t want to talk about it!”

“Could you at least tell me about the foursome, then?”

“No! God, I am never playing Never Have I Ever with you guys again. Good night, Nureyev.”

Nureyev grinned. “Good night, my dear.”

[emo-floof-child-writes]

Day 019: Confined.

Featuring Eddie Munson and Dustin Henderson.

Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley and Nancy Wheeler.

1,227 words. The most I've written for one prompt so far, I believe. And technically I only refer to Robin and Nancy as "the girls" but that counts so...

Eddie shoves Dustin inside the inverted and twisted version of his trailer, slamming its front door shut behind him. He sighs, and looks at Dustin who is panting. “Dude.” Dustin mumbles, managing to catch his breath. Eddie walks up to him, and grabs his arms to steady himself. “Most metal EVER!” Dustin announces, as they both bounce with an energy so nervous it was like lightning shooting through the small hallway. The banging on the wire fences that surround the house makes a rattling that sends a shiver down Eddie’s spine. Just gotta keep ‘em distracted long enough to let Harrington and the girls to flambé that motherfu¢ker. Then I can get Henderson out and be done with this place. There is a squeal, and Eddie hears the banging pause, before the bats start to hit the roof with wet thuds. Are they dive bombing? He wonders, as Dustin lifts his makeshift spear.

Eddie bites his lip. If the kid doesn't make it out of this, I don't know what I'll do with myself. Or be able to look Steve Harrington in the eye again. He scoffs to himself, as he pulls Dustin closer to him. That's a new development. Being worried what Steve fu¢king Harrington thinks about him. If you had told him a couple of years back that there would be a time when he would care about Steve's opinion of him, he’d probably laugh in your face. Yet here I am, wanting to make a good impression on him. He hears more rattling and screeching, and it feels as if the whole of this tiny trailer was being squished like a trash compactor. Dustin is trembling, eyeing a vent above the front door, and Eddie grits his teeth. There wasn’t really a way to guard against a bat getting in through the vents, as nothing reached high enough to cover and/or block up them all.

This is it. He thinks, pushing Dustin behind him. The final hurrah of Eddie “The Freak” Munson. Doomed to die with a fourteen year old in a fu¢king twisted version of the middle of nowhere; Hawkins, Indiana. He shifts his spear to a javelin position, aiming up at the vent. If this is my end, I should at the very least make it an end worth remembering. He hears a clunk come from the vent, and he inches forward, Dustin starts to follow, but Eddie waves for him to go back. Not letting you die for my stupidity. Dustin stops, but stands where he was, making no effort to back up. Stubborn brat. He thinks, before looking up at the vent with his spear raised. He hears another clatter from his room, and a chill runs down his spine. Fu¢k! I forgot about that one! He curses to himself, making Dustin frown. “Eddie? What's wrong?!” Dustin asks, his voice trembling almost as much as his body.

I got to get them away from him. But without him knowing that I am doing something stupid. “Just head towards the portal, I'll be there in a second, okay?” Eddie says, keeping his voice even much to his own surprise. Dustin looks at the portal, then to the vent, with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. D@mn you and your skepticism, Dustin! He thinks, before nodding towards the portal again. “Go!” He urges again, and Dustin listens this time. But right as he breaks into a run, the vent pops open, and four bats fly out of it. Eddie stabs a few, as they make loud squelching noises and scream an ear piercing screech that makes the two boys cry out in pain. More fly in, and Eddie flings some against the walls, and stabs others. We're stuck to this tiny area, we can't guarantee that we'll both make it into the portal before the bats do. But maybe one of us can. “Dustin! I have an idea! But you gotta trust me!” It's not a great plan, but it's the only one I got. He thinks, and Dustin sighs.

“Well? Spit it out, man!” Dustin yells, and Eddie swallows. “Go through the portal, I'll follow, and maybe they'll try to get through on that side, thus distracting them from the others!” That wasn't really Eddie's plan, but it has to sound like a well formed plan for Dustin to believe him. And as much as he hated lying to the kid, he needed him safe. Harrington needed him safe, and Eddie decided he was the man that would die to make sure of it. Dustin gives him a nod, before starting the climb up the clothing rope. Eddie clears his throat, staring down the beasts in front of him like he was humanity's only hope. In a way, Eddie supposes, he was, since this plan would help save Hawkins, and by extension the whole world. He glances up to see Dustin land on the mattress above. Below? This is too confusing. He grabs the rope, taking a second to think if this idea was really worth it. He looks up at Dustin, who frowns. 

“Eddie! Come on! Get out of there!” Dustin screams through the portal, and Eddie lets go of the rope. I need to buy more time. They probably haven't made it to the house yet. “Eddie?!” Dustin cries, sounding almost to tears. He grits his teeth, his resolve set. If I'm dying, I'm sure as hell not dying in this trailer. He swings the spear, cutting clean through the fabric and dropping the rope at his feet. “Eddie, what are you doing?!” He cries, tears glistening off his cheeks in the yellow glow of his trailer's incandescent light bulbs. He looks up at him with a sigh. “I’m buying them more time.” He says, simply, before running towards the door, where the bats swarm him, he hears Dustin scream his name, but he doesn't look back. He throws open the door while bats scratch and bite at him and he runs over to the bike by his steps, and swallows. 

Sorry, Harrington. I know you said not to be heroes, but I can't run this time. I wouldn't be able to look you in the eye if Henderson died. He looks up to you in a way he could never possibly look up to me. Please don't blame yourself for this. If I die here, it was my own stupidly big heart that got me there. You did all you could, and I hope one day you and Henderson will forgive me for this. “Come on, then!” He yells, after biking for a while. He lifts his spear, with a threatening shake. I really should have said more to Steve before we parted. My last words to him are seriously gonna be “make him pay.” He watches as the bats become a tornado of black, and a few get eager, but he stabs them all before they get the chance. That is, until one catches him by the throat, and more grasps his arms and legs, pulling him to the ground, and making him drop his spear. And Eddie has no choice but to watch as they all dive bomb him at once, tearing through his flesh and he screams. Loudly. The final stand of Eddie “The Freak” Munson. He thinks morbidly, before everything goes black.