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pbs-theundeadmaggot · 4 months

Note

Back with another request! If I send too many, just pick your favourites or ignore them :) also, with any requests from me you can do with !fem or !gn, whichever you prefer!

Maybe the reader works in like a library, or used book shop, and Eddie shows up all the time because he has a crush on her, but hasn't worked up the nerve to actually ask her out or talk to her more than like small talk yet?

Creep

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

[a/n] I'm so sorry this took so long, I'm working on your other request but I wanted to quickly get this one completed. I hope its okay!

[warnings?] religion contemplation? not proof read

Valen-Cries masterlist available here!

He’d spent majority of his free days watching from afar, working up the courage to approach her, coming close a couple times but quickly backing out as soon as her eyes locked with his, sending him a small wave and shy smile before turning back to the book she’d been reading intensely.

Eddie swore he could’ve fainted then and there, with the spring sun shining down on her features, highlighting each curve and crevice that graced her skin, she was like an angel incarnate. While he was the furthest from religious he’d happily declare his faith with her as his witness.

Funnily enough he’d been sent to the library to work on his religious studies, not because he cared per sea but because if he was going to play into the idea of being the satan worshipper he might as well make it accurate. Of course his friends had questioned his sanity yet again, almost fearful this would do the opposite he’d intended it to do. However, he wasn’t going to back down from the challenge so easily.

In the short time spent among dusty damp books and you, he’d quickly learnt quite a lot. For one your favourite book was the princess bride, the crumpled pages and frayed spine giving it away. He’d found a sense of comfort in your actions, seeing that while you presented yourself as put together and calm there was clearly a need to escape the present and live through the words of another, with no expectation of the now.

He’d also learnt that you seemed to have your other favourites on rotation, after finishing one you’d switch back to another worn down copy of a classic, taking notice that not one of them appeared to be Lord of the Rings. Perhaps if he even worked up the nerve to talk to you, he’d ask.

There were times when he’d caught himself staring for too long to not be considered creepy, while he’d tried desperately not to be. After weeks of lowkey stalking he’d given up, realising that you didn’t seem to mind, in fact it had become a sort of game between the two of you. From quiet flirting between the shelves and leaving small gifts in the others unmarked territory, it seemed as though you also enjoyed this.

Valentines had quickly approached and while Eddie was never really bothered with mediocre holidays, the prospect of actually participating had him shaking with nerves. The following day he’d walked in with his own copy of Lord of the Rings, dog eared and probably in worse state than yours, quickly placing it in front of you and blurting out his question without a thought.

“Be my valentine?” Stunned at his own forwardness, clearing his throat once more before continuing “I mean I’ve seen you around and I thought that maybe you’d like to go out with me?”

A wide smile spread across your face at his words, his chocolate button eyes staring down at you in desperation as the silence stretched. Seems you both had the same idea though, as you reached down to grab your copy of The Princess Bride, thrusting it into his fidgety hands. Your words had failed but keenly nodding like a lovesick fool at him as you swapped numbers and arranged a date.

Which would be one of many to come

#eddie x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader #joe quinn imagine #joe quinn #pbs-thedesecrated #stranger things imagines #stranger things au #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic

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uselessgay10101 · 2 months

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~Dance under the rainbow~

#i know pb said she was bi #but like...#sure but not my hc #but whatever its a whole thing #hana deserved to explore her sexuality #mc totally takes her to a pride parade #this deserves a fanfic #i love them #mc x hana #hana lee #choices: stories you play #choices #trr #the royal romance

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lobinilo · 4 months

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...so....

they canceled World On Fire

#i know it`s “just a show” but this is really hitting me hard #i needed more harry and kasia #and more henriette and david #also i'm annoyed af that my gifs never come out right and they're always dark and shitty #someone please write a fanfic to wrap all the storylines up #world on fire #world on fire bbc #world on fire tv show #world on fire pbs #pbs masterpiece #jonah hauer king #harry chase #zofia wichlacz #kasia chase #julia brown #lesley manville #sean bean #ewan mitchell

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malthemagnifisent · 7 months

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Pairing: Aerin x Male!elf Mc (Cyrus)

Plot: After so many relationships and friendships ruined by the interference of his brother, Aerin was determined not to let anything ruin Cyrus’ opinion of him. He couldn’t abide the thought of the one good thing in his life being turned against him, and perhaps that left him with more anger and possessiveness then he realized.

Content warning: Mentions of Baldur abuse, and very slightly 18+ scene at the end, but nothing really happens. It’s mainly just kissing and Aerin like unties MC’s pants.

Tag list: @zhoras-bitch @rosepetals1 @saibug1022 @oh-so-youre-a-nerd @baldwinboy5ive (enjoy)

Baldur had always made sure to ruin any little thing that Aerin had to himself, and that included every moment, gift, and even person that Aerin found some enjoyment in. He’d destroyed Aerin’s favorite toys when they were young, and as they grew older, he took away even his peace.

The worst of all had been when he’d ruined the one good relationship in Aerin’s otherwise miserable life. He’d formed a friendship, perhaps even something more, with the son of a nobleman, and for a while, Aerin had been almost happy.

Then Baldur had found out, because he always found out, and before Aerin even had a chance, his brother had crushed the relationship in his hand and left Aerin floundering.

Somehow his brother had managed to wheedle his way under the skin of his friend, whispering all sorts of lies in his gullible ear, until finally his one bit of solace had turned away from him with nothing but anger.

In Aerin’s mind, everything of his was going to be ruined eventually, and Cyrus was no exception. Even with Baldur gone, he couldn’t discount that somehow Cyrus would be turned against him, and perhaps his fears drove him rather mad at times as jealousy and possessiveness became all too easy.

Everyone wanted Cyrus; that was a fact. He was smart and beautiful, brave beyond belief, and the hero of Morella, to top it all off. People wanted him, and Aerin couldn’t blame them, but still, Cyrus was his; Cyrus had chosen him, and he would be damned if he’d let anyone take him away.

There was a party in the castle of White Tower, and Cyrus, as usual, was the center of attention. He smiled politely as he talked with pushy nobles, all of whom wanted just a minute to speak with the famed hero of Morella.

Aerin would have been at Cyrus’ side, but just a moment ago he’d been sent for drinks, and as soon as he’d left, partygoers had descended like vultures. If he thought Cyrus’ minded, then Aerin would have hurried back, but as it was, he didn’t think Cyrus cared that he was being swarmed by admirers.

It took him some time to find a waiter through the thick crowd, and when he did, it was to the realization that he’d completely lost sight of Cyrus, so despite his best efforts, he may have been rather short with the servant as he snatched up cups of wine and hurried back through the crowd.

Realistically, he knew nothing would have changed in just those few seconds—that Cyrus would still be standing where he had been before, laughing and smiling until all the warmth of the room seemed to be coming from him.

That’s what he expected, at least, but when the crowd parted, he had a sinking feeling as he realized Cyrus was no longer standing among the chatting nobles.

His hands trembled slightly on the long stems of the wine glasses, but he paid it no mind as he set them down on the first table he saw before walking up to the dispersing crowd of men and women.

“Where’s Cyrus?” He snapped, glaring at one of the women he knew had been surrounding his friend. (or lover perhaps, he didn’t know what to call him.)

She looked at him with a familiar expression of distaste, one he’d gotten used to seeing from everyone whom he used to know. Not everyone had been as forgiving as Cyrus, and there were still people in Whitetower who saw him as nothing more than a corrupted prince who’d almost ended the realm.

Luckily for him, along with that hatred came a sense of fear, and usually he would have detested that anyone was still afraid of him, but now he was grateful for it, as it had the noblewoman responding in an instant.

“He went to the garden; Lord Edric accompanied him.”

That was all Aerin needed before he turned sharply on his heel and stormed out of the doors and into the cool evening air. His hands had clenched into tight fists, and each breath was a pain to draw in.

The scar on his chest ached, stretched as his lungs expanded, and burned in the cool air, but all that was what he’d grown used to; he’d come to expect that pain. What he couldn’t accept was the fear and misery of having the one truly good thing in his life taken away.

Lord Edric was a familiar name to him; he’d been friends with Baldur; that is, if anyone could really be considered friends with his late brother, and Aerin couldn’t stand the thought of him being alone with Cyrus for even a solitary moment.

God knows what he would say, what poison he would whisper, what lies he would tell, and how he might turn Cyrus against Aerin like Baldur had done so many times.

He stumbled over his own feet slightly as he heard Cyrus’ voice ahead of him, sounding clearly through the garden where no other sound but the wind could possibly be heard.

As he rounded a grove of trees, Aerin heard Lord Edric laughing and spotted the pair standing a few feet away, a good distance between them but not enough for Aerin's liking, not when Lord Edric could reach out and touch Cyrus if he tried, not when he could see the fine details of Cyrus’ eyes or smell the scent of the bath oils he used.

Those things weren’t for him; they were for Aerin, all for him.

Then Cyrus laughed at something Lord Edric had said, and Aerin couldn’t breathe anymore. He cleared his throat and stepped toward them, his head held high and his dark eyes fixed on Edric with the same kind of disdain he used to wear when he’d been so full of corruption that there had been no anger or hatred to feel.

“Aerin, I’m sorry I wandered off; I needed some air, and Lord Edric said he would show me the gardens,” Cryus said, his smile turning real, softer, brighter, and so much warmer than the false happiness he’d been showing before.

Without giving it much thought, Aerin strode forward and met Lord Edric’s eyes. “Leave us; you’ve taken up enough of his time,” he said, to the silent indignation of Cyrus, who seemed to be struggling with what to say.

It wasn’t often that Cyrus was left speechless, and if Aerin wasn’t so filled with anger and jealousy, then maybe he would have had room to feel proud of himself.

Lord Edric appeared ready to argue, but Aerin refused to give him a chance, the same way he refused to let Cyrus be taken or ruined. He raised his hand and nodded pointedly back toward the castle doors, where light was spilling out into the gardens and the sound of the party could still be heard.

“The hero of Morella has more important things than standing here and talking to you, Lord Edric,” he said, which finally seemed to get his point across as Edric’s lip curled back before he took the time to nod toward Cyrus.

“I’ll see you back at the party, I’m sure,” was all he said before he finally obeyed Aerin and walked away, leaving Aerin standing in a cloud of his own jealousy that anyone would take up Cyrus’ time, time that would be better spent with Aerin himself, time that was precious, as he didn’t know how much of it he would get before Cyrus was no longer his.

Silence prevailed for one long moment before Cyrus spoke. “That wasn’t necessary,” he said, looking at Aerin with such obvious disapproval that he almost felt bad for a moment.

Only a moment, though.

“You should stay away from Edric; he’s not as nice as he looks,” he muttered, turning to look over at the castle, where Edric had retreated and was luckily no longer in sight. He must have followed Aerin’s instructions and returned to the party.

Cyrus suddenly stepped in front of him, and Aerin was forced to confront the disapproval he’d been hoping to avoid. “Do you not trust me to figure that out on my own? What did you think was going to happen?” He asked, placing a hand on Aerin’s shoulder and holding him gently in place, as if Aerin would have left, if he would ever leave again. He would stay rooted to the spot as long as Cyrus wanted.

“He was friends with Baldur; years ago they were close, and besides that, you’re-“ Aerin broke off, breathing heavily, his head hanging low so his eyes could focus on the hand that still rested on his shoulder, the gentle weight helping him stay steady and warm even as a cool breeze blew around them.

Quirking a single eyebrow, Cyrus leaned down a little, and Aerin was forced to meet his eyes. “I’m what? Gullible?” He asked, already trying to piece out what Aerin had been about to say, but predictably he was failing, and Aerin should have been content to let him keep wondering, but for some reason he couldn’t.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Aerin was speaking, spilling his fear and anger, every word laced with jealousy and a sort of possessiveness he didn’t know he had in him. “No, you’re mine; you’re mine, and I can’t have you taken away,” he snapped, though as soon as the words left him, he felt bad for how they’d sounded.

To his credit, Cyrus didn’t even react; he just continued to stare at Aerin, clearly waiting for something better—some explanation that made sense and wasn’t just Aerin’s fear of being abandoned.

Cyrus suddenly gripped Aerin by the upper arm and pulled him deeper into the garden, behind another grouping of trees, so no one from the castle would have a chance of seeing them. “If I remember correctly, I’ve never been the one abandoning this relationship; that’s always been you,” he said, and perhaps it was a low blow, but Aerin couldn’t deny its truth.

He had been the one to run before this; he’d been the coward; he couldn’t handle his feelings well enough to keep Cyrus close, but now he was here to stay, and whenever he was determined to stick around, things inevitably fell apart.

“Every friend I ever made was driven away; Baldur got in between every relationship I started to build; I don’t know how he did it, but every time he made them leave,” Aerin said, shrugging his shoulders to break free of Cyrus’ grasp.

He couldn’t stay still when he talked of Baldur; even the mention of his brother set him on edge and put him into a state of such nerves that he simply had to move. Bakdur’s presence used to mean almost certain punches, so sitting down had never been an option; standing still was no better either, so pacing was the easiest.

“And what? Do you think he’s still pulling the strings from beyond the grave?” Cyrus asked as his hand suddenly settled on Aerin’s chin, and he was held in place by slim, cold fingers, pressing indents into his pale cheeks. “Your brother has no power over me; he never did.”

Swallowing thickly, Aerin reached up and grabbed Cyrus’ wrist, pulling the hand from his chin so he could step closer, crowding into Cyrus’ space like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’re mine; I will not give you up,” he said, his free hand now tangling into the front of Cyrus’ shirt, clutching tightly at the rich fabric.

“No one is asking you to give me up,” Cyrus responded, his cool fingers enclosing slowly around Aerin’s wrist, gently tugging his hand away so the space between them was clear and Cyrus was free to lean down and rest his forehead gently on Aerin’s. “You think Lord Edric will steal me from you?” He chuckled, the notion seeming absurd the longer he considered it.

Aerin made a sound of frustration, and in an act of desperation, he pulled Cyrus closer and pressed their lips together. It wasn’t anything like their other kisses, though that was to be expected, as kissing Cyrus was never the same as it had been the time before.

Cyrus was so easily distracted from his earlier indignation as he grabbed Aerin by the waist and began to walk slowly back. The trees rustled above them, and the sounds of the party swelled for a moment before suddenly Aerin’s back was pressed against a tree, and he could think of nothing else but the hands trapping him there.

A hand snaked into his hair, and Aerin was lost in bliss as Cyrus trailed his lips down across his neck, sending fire skirting across his skin and making him crumble under the anticipation of being further burned alive under Cyrus’ touch.

The kiss broke, and Aerin whined in protest, as he always did, because he’d be happy to continue until he ran out of air. It wasn’t an unpleasant thought to die with Cyrus kissing him.

“Everyone wants you; you know that,” he said, his breath ghosting over Cyrus’ lips as he refused to lean back; he couldn’t bear the thought of stepping away.

Cyrus chuckled softly and shook his head. “I do not know that; I know you want me, and that’s what matters,” he said, pressing another soft kiss to the corner of Aerin’s lips.

“When people are near you, they can’t keep themselves from looking, and I can’t stop myself from wanting to hide you away, because for once I have something that is all mine, and I want to keep it that way." Aerin knew it was probably a bit much, that no one wanted to be kept on such a tight leash, but he couldn’t help the way he felt, the jealousy that tore out of his chest anytime someone made Cyrus laugh.

He wouldn’t have blamed Cyrus if the man decided to leave him, if he fell for the charms of one of his many admirers. Any of them could have given him more than Aerin could offer, but Aerin wouldn’t let go without putting up a fight to keep him.

“I never noticed when people were charmed by me; I’ve always been too busy checking if you were watching,” Cyrus mused, like his words weren’t everything Aerin needed to hear, as if they didn’t fuel every bit of desire and need he had.

Aerin tried to stop the shaking of his hands, but it was no use, and instead he employed the nervous energy as it should be used by pulling Cyrus down into another heated kiss. His fingers fiddled gently with the ties of Cyrus’ silken pants, giving every chance to pull away before he tugged at the fabric and began to open the ties.

“You’re mine,” he whispered again, his hand moving gently along the exposed strip of skin where Cyrus’ shirt had ridden up.

His hand dipped lower, and Cyrus shuddered against him, his forehead coming to rest on Aerin’s shoulder as his breaths began to shake.

“Yours, all yours, Aerin.”

And just like that, Aerin was insane again, driven mad by want and corrupted with possessive emotion that he knew no amount of light could cure. This was here to stay; this longing was never going to fade.

Cyrus was his, only his, and he’d be damned if he let him be taken away.

#choices #playchoices #mine #play choices #pb #bolas #blades of light and shadow 2 #blades of light and shadow #my writing #writing #mc x aerin #bolas aerin #aerin valleros #prince aerin #aerin x mc #choices aerin #choices fanfic #fanfic

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crowsandturtlesandbatsohmy · 12 days

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ROTTMNT Bad Future

so uh, I had an idea today about how I imagine future Donnie went out. This isn’t the whole story btw, just what I would consider the first chapter.

Warnings: Undisclosed illness, blood, mentions of death, self-worth issues, quarantine, Leo deals with problems by ignoring them, mentions of Leo and Raph arguing. If there are any I missed please let me know!

—————————————————- Everything ached. A shudder ran throughout his body. He went to sigh and wheezed instead. A hacking cough forced him to sit up, blankets falling away and leaving him even colder than he already was.

Red. Drop, drop, drop.

A slow breath, then. In and out.

What was that buzzing?

He swung his legs over the side of his cot and got up on shaky feet. He leaned against the wall as he staggered along towards his chair.

Oh. The buzzer. That was what woke him.

The buzzer.

Clarity.

He launched himself away from the wall, lurched across the room, tripped, and caught himself against the abnormally-sturdy glass door, trying to catch his breath whiteout inhaling too deep.

Everything ached.

Mikey stared back at him from the other side, eyes wide and concerned.

“Dee… you have blood on your chin.”

Donnie grunted and wiped it away with one hand. Breath after breath. A wheeze, another hacking cough, and then he lifted his head to meet Mikey’s gaze. He pressed the button to talk.

“…G’morning—“ another wheeze. He dropped his volume, drew shallower breaths. “…’morning Angelo. Status report?”

Mikey hesitated. “Donnie—“

“Status report, Michael.” Too loud. Hurt. Cough, cough—stop—more coughing— hurtstoomuchstopit— finally a break. Finally air, finally he could breathe.

He met Mikey’s gaze again. Fixed him with an “I’m older than you, do as I say” look. A look that had gotten so much practice since the invasion. Since everything went wrong. And even more since he got sick. Stupid, stupid, stupid stupid stupid dumb-dumb-Donnie with your dumb-dumbness getting yourself sick—

“Donnie!”

Donnie’s attention snapped back to Mikey.

Oh. Oh no. The ‘kicked-puppy-meets-Dr.Feelings’ expression, as April called it.

He looked away. “Report?” He pleaded in a whisper.

A beat of silence. Static, then, “April isn’t getting any better.”

Donnie slammed a fist into the wall with a grunt.

Mikey didn’t even flinch. Instead he looked for all the world like he wanted nothing more than to pull Donnie into a hug and not let go for a long while.

Donnie ignored it. Shoved the thought to the back of his mind.

April.

She’d been caught in the trap meant for him, had the same illness he did.

I should have known. It’s my job to know.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He met Mikey’s gaze again.

“Donnie. Don’t blame yourself.”

Donnie scoffed. Bad decision. He squeezed his eyes shut against the wave of pain and nausea, opened them when it passed.

“It’s not your fault.”

“The trap was meant for me, Michael,” he said quietly. “And I can’t fix it. I’m the science guy. I have to fix this and I can’t. I’m useless—”

“DONALD!”

Donnie’s mouth snapped shut and he looked up at Mikey again.

“April doesn’t blame you. Casey doesn’t blame you. Leo doesn’t blame you. I don’t blame you. The only one blaming you is you, so knock it off before I razzmatazz your shell.”

Donnie snorted at that, deciding against pointing out that Mikey couldn’t get near him without exposing himself. For Mikey’s sake of course, and so they didn’t argue longer. Not because the reminder was painful. He was an emotionless bad-boy after all, and isolation was a bad-boy’s dream.

“Casey Junior?” He asked instead.

“Leo’s keeping him busy, or else he’d come visit more. I’m talking to Leo about it today. Casey needs more time.”

Casey needs more time with you and April before you go. Donnie could extrapolate. He knew what Mikey really meant.

“Appreciated. He has been reluctant to leave and I dislike having to be the ‘bad uncle’ and send him away.”

I need more time with him too.

Mikey understood. Mikey could extrapolate too. He offered Donnie a sad smile.

“And ‘Nardo?” Donnie asked after a moment.

Mikey frowned and looked away. “He’s… taking it hard, Dee. He’s losing you and April all at once.” A pause. “He hardly lets Casey out of his sight, unless it’s to see you.”

Donnie’s heart sunk. “He’s mad.” The words were bitter.

“He’s scared,” Mikey corrected gently. “He doesn’t know how to handle this, so he’s ignoring it. If he comes to see you, that makes it real and he has to deal with it.” Another pause. “I’m talking to him about that too.”

Donnie snorted. “No rest for Dr. Feelings, huh?”

Mikey smiled again, weary beyond his years, but said nothing. A brief pause, and then he shrugged. “That’s my report.”

Another pause. Donnie frowned.

“‘Angelo?” Donnie’s voice was quiet.

“Yeah Dee?” Tension in every line of his body. Forced cheer. ‘Everything-is-fine-because-I-have-to-be-fine’. The same tactic he used when Raph and Leo argued.

“You forgot yourself.”

“Oh.” Mikey’s smile dropped.

Silence.

A long moment. Then another. A sniffle. At last Mikey met his gaze, placed a hand to the glass as though maybe, just maybe, he could reach through it and get to Donnie.

“‘M scared, Donald.”

The same words he used to say when the arguing reached its height for the day, back when they were still kids living in the sewers and Leo had been recently promoted. The arguing had gone on as they grew up and faced the apocalypse, but Mikey had become numb to it. Just like Donnie.

But Mikey didn’t need Donnie right now. He needed Donald.

“I know, Angelo,” he replied quietly. The same soft voice he’d learned for Mikey’s sake back then and later adapted for a very very— two very’s— small Casey Junior. A beat of silence passed. He drew a shaky breath, set his hand over Mikey’s on the glass.

Palm to glass to palm. “I’m scared too.”

“What am I going to do without you?” Mikey whispered, still not meeting Donnie’s gaze.

Donnie didn’t know what to say. Neither did Donald. “You’ll keep fighting. And you’ll look after Leo and Casey Junior, like you always do.” Logic. Facts. Donnie or Donald? Donnie couldn’t tell anymore.

“I need you.” Mikey looked up at last. “I can’t do this alone.”

His heart, the one he always claimed he didn’t have, felt like another big chunk had been ripped away. He’d lost a sizable piece when Raph died. Another with Splinter. A smaller one with Draxum. Even Casey, the first of their small family to fall, took a chunk with her. How much did he have left?

It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t need it for much longer anyway. He had a week, maybe two at best.

What did matter was that Angelo needed him. Needed Donald.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could think to say.

Mikey glared at him, eyes wet with unshed tears. “Stop blaming yourself. I told you, it’s not your fault.”

“No, Angelo, listen to me.”

Silence.

Donnie continued. “I’m not apologizing for getting sick, though I have every right to do so—“ he trailed off as Mikey’s expression shifted into something vaguely reminiscent of an aged Dr. Delicate Touch. “Not my point. Sigh.” He paused and drew a breath. “Apologies. This is… hard.”

Mikey waited. He always did when it really mattered.

“I am apologizing for leaving you. I am breaking my promise. And I am apologizing because I do not know what else to say.”

Mikey’s gaze softened. “I don’t blame you for the promise either. I know you wouldn’t be breaking it if you could help it.”

Another long silence.

“Donald?”

“Angelo?”

“It’s your turn.”

“Hm?”

“Status report.”

Donnie huffed a chuckle, only to regret it when another wheeze followed.

“I’m coughing up blood, experiencing bouts of nausea, and I have one week left to live, perhaps two if I am lucky.”

“I know that. That’s not what I’m asking and you know it.”

“Those are the facts, Michael. I am sick and dying and I am going to live out my final days in quarantine.”

“There it is.”

Donnie raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“You admitted it.”

“What?”

“That being quarantined is bothering you.” Mikey shifted to sit on the floor, back to the glass. “I know you, Donald. You’ve been trying to pretend that being locked up isn’t a problem, but I can tell.”

Donnie fell silent as he moved to sit on the floor, back pressed over where Mikey’s shell should be.

Cold. Flat. Solid. Not at all like Mikey’s shell, especially not now that he had his cloak on every time Donnie saw him.

Not Mikey. Glass. Because he was highly contagious and could kill Mikey by breathing.

A shudder ran through him, brought on by a tangle of emotions he doubted even Dr. Feelings himself could help him place.

He wanted a hug. Warm and too tight and too long and too close.

Another shudder ran through him. Cold, aching, blood on his hands, nausea coming and going in waves.

Mostly cold. Shivers passed under the shudders.

Yeah. A hug sounded great right about now.

“Donnie?”

Donnie glanced over his shoulder.

“Does whatever this is affect ninpo?”

Donnie turned away. “Michael, no.”

“I’m serious, Donnie!”

“You don’t know how much lifespan you have left!”

“I know how much you do!”

“You can’t afford to use your ninpo for things like this—“

“Like what?” Mikey challenged. “Like giving my dying brother a hug when he clearly needs one?”

“It’s not worth it Michael.”

“You don’t get to make that call.” Mikey got to his feet. His spots started to glow.

“Michael I forbid you—“

A golden projection of Mikey stood before him in the quarantined room. It grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him to his feet, then pulled him into a tight hug.

Donnie didn’t react. Couldn’t. This was bad. “Mikey—“

“Shut up and hug me, Donald.” His voice trembled, like he was about to cry.

That couldn’t happen. Stupid dumb-dumb little brothers and their dumb-dumb guilt-tripping big brother instincts activation.

He wrapped his arms around Mikey, buried his snout in the crook of Mikey’s neck. Found himself holding onto Mikey like a lifeline, unable to let go.

Mikey held on just as tight, his head buried in the crook of Donnie’s own neck.

“For the record,” Mikey mumbled without moving his head, “you’ll always be worth it, Donnie.”

Something wet on Donnie’s face, trailing down his snout, landing on Mikey. But then again, Mikey’s face was wet too.

Warm. Too tight. Too long. Too close. Just like always.

Mikey was scared. So was Donnie. But for now it didn’t matter. For now, they had each other. Just like always.

Mikey and Donnie. Mystic Warrior and Lead Scientist. Heart and Head. Art and Smarts. Orange and Purple. Peanut Butter and Jelly.

Angelo and Donald.

No matter what our dumb-dumb brothers do, I will not leave you.

Promise?

Well, theoretically in battle situations—

Donnie.

Sigh. Yes, ‘Angelo. I promise.

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Basically it boils down to, what if in his final days, Donnie the turtle who is the most touch-averse, was denied the ability to be in physical contact with anyone. Would he grow touch-starved?

I think he would. Donnie may say he doesn’t like touch, but his interactions with his brothers in the show tell us otherwise. I think he just prefers for it to be on his terms (which I totally get).

Anyways. Here’s my little Bad Future Timeline take. I already have Headcannons for it that I’d love to talk about so feel free to ask questions if you have any.

#rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #future rottmnt #future donnie #future donatello #pb&j duo #smarts and crafts #bad future rottmnt #bad future donnie #tw mentions of death #read the warnings #fanfic #crow’s scribbles #crow’s cawing #tmnt #future mikey #future michelangelo #tw illness

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liamzigmichael4ever · 1 month

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So quick question. I'm looking for a immortal desires book 1 rewritten but in cas pov. I think his confusion and turmoil and angst this man clearly goes through with MC would be great to explore. Can anyone help me? Please. It would be so appreciated🙏🏾 even if this Fandom is now divided.

#pb #choices stories you play #choices you play #choices #playchoices #pb choices #choicesstoriesyouplay #choices immortal desires #cas harlow #cas harlow x mc #immortal desires #immortal desires book 1 #immortal desires book 2 #fanfic #fanfiction #archive of our own

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habizuh-studios · 12 days

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Can anyone recommend any GOOD Johnny Cade/Ponyboy Curtis fics?

Preferably on ao3, man i am starving

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plumbum-art · 4 months

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❤️‍🔥Are you ready for Valentine's Day?❤️‍🔥

@moonyinpisces , @saglaophonos and @plumbum-art proudly present:

'Wanna be with you everywhere'

a multichaptered M-rated Good Omens fanfic written by @moonyinpisces and @saglaophonos with art from me!

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After the apocalypse is averted once again and everything is back to normal Aziraphale and Crowley want to spend The Perfect Valentine's Day (TM) together. But will they succeed and ✨️consumate✨️ their relationship the - eugh - human way?

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》》Find out in the coming chapters of 'Wanna be with you everywhere' on Ao3!《《

The prolog is out now and comes with a comic, which you can read here on my blog. Stay tuned for more illustrations and an extra spicy final comic in the following updates 🔥🔥🔥

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #good omens fanfic #good omens fanart #pb comic #WBWYE #pb collab

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mischiefmanagers · 6 months

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i’m gonna need y’all to calm down with the angst in the azriel tags cause i am NOT okay.

#I’m kidding please don’t stop #the angst hurts but like in a good way #acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel angst #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azris #azriel x eris #pb speaks #angst

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rileyh20 · 2 months

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pbs-theundeadmaggot · 4 months

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A little Bucky request, if you'd be so kind 🥰 I'm thinking maybe neighbour!reader (but I'm not fussy!) and they leave little secret admirer valentine's gifts for Bucky as he always seems so lonely when they see him 💔

Winter

Bucky Barnes x gn!reader

[a/n] thanks you so much for this request! I wont lie it's been so long since I've written I found it a little bit difficult to fulfil this request however, that was the point of Valn-Cries so here we go. also side note I didn't know if you wanted fem!reader so I made them gn! hope you don't mind.

Valen-Cries masterlist available here!

Winter wasn’t just a season, it was a state of mind. It was the cold and bitter breeze of doubt that crept in at any waking moment. It was the raging storm that destroyed everything in sight, leaving nothing behind but memories of what once was and could’ve been.

Winter lived through the sticky heat of summer like a bug bite that wouldn’t go away. In the spring it blossomed like a forbidden fruit, waiting and praying to release its venom. In the Autumn it was the stains at the bottom of your coffee cup, no amount of scrubbing or detergent could get rid of it.

Winter was everlasting and nothing could slow it down.

Or at least thats what he thought until he saw you

Bucky had first met you on an unassuming Tuesday evening. He’d received word that Bruce wanted to use him as the subject for his newest experiment so in Bucky fashion before listening to anything else, he’d stormed off towards the lab, ready to tear into the green giant for thinking he could treat him like another lab rat.

Profanities spilled from his lips as he entered the room, only to be stunned into silence once he saw you sitting there, all pretty and tiny like an angel in contrast to the heavy machinery that laid scattered around the lab. Clearly flustered you’d stuttered out a jumble of words, looking up at him with wide innocent eyes as you waited for his response. Yet whatever you’d said clearly fell on deaf ears as he simply turned around and stormed back out

Half way up the hall he’d paused, needing a moment to catch his breath as regret coursed through his veins. He hadn’t meant to come across as rude but just being in your presence had knocked the air right out of his lungs, suffocating him in the most delicious way. He could already imagine how gentle your touch was, the way you’d plant soft kisses across his cheeks before whispering sweet affirmations into his ears.

His daydreams however, were embarrassingly cut short as the stiff material of his jeans grew tight, a distant but familiar feeling of arousal building up as he quickly rid the thought of you from his mind. Both disgusted and intrigued that his confusing feelings awoke this primal need in him, a feeling he hadn’t felt in decades.

It was a feeling, among other things he couldn’t afford to acknowledge. It was so much simpler to feel nothing than everything. After all he’d been through he’d worked his way to a place of peace about himself, the world around him and his past, these feelings would only complicate and ruin him again. Therefore, they didn’t exist.

But of course that was easier said than done.

With Valentines approaching he couldn’t help but feel somewhat dejected, knowing that before your arrival he never would’ve bothered with such a trivial holiday, but now it was all he could think about. Questions and doubt clouding his vision, wondering who the special person in your life was. Was he rich and handsome like Tony? Or maybe he was goofy and clumsy like Sam. Did he shower you with affection? Or maybe he took you for granted. Either way it tortured him to think it could never be him, no matter how much he wished it would.

—-

In the passing months that you’d joined the team, you’d seen Bucky grow colder and quieter in your presence. His usually devastatingly beautiful baby blue eyes and boyish grin had become hollow and lifeless. With each small interaction he’d curled into himself and run away, as if disgusted by you.

It was difficult not to take it personally, especially since you were so enamoured with him yet you persevered hoping he would soon warm up to you. Although, this was to no avail. You figured if he hated you he could love the illusion.

This became a favourite past time of yours, leaving behind crumbs of your devotion in the form of unlimited snacks and mystery deliveries. Watching from afar as the usual scowl that graced his face morphed into a faint smile. This was enough to satisfy you for a while yet you began to think bigger.

Valentines was a mere couple weeks away and you’d decided to bite the bullet and admit to Bucky that it was you admiring him in secret. The worst case scenario was that things would stay exactly as they were, there would be no need to interact with him and in the off chance you did, you knew how to be civil. While the best case was he didn’t hate you quite as much, perhaps you could even be friends if not lovers, anything but this weird limbo of emptiness was an improvement.

—-

Bucky had woken up to a knock a quiet knock at his door, unsure if he was hearing correct but getting up and answering anyway. He was met with an empty hallway, ready to simply slam the door shut until his eyes landed on the note taped to his door. It was decorated with a little sticker in the left corner saying ‘even winter has its sunny days’, in any other case he would’ve scoffed at the obnoxious pink of the paper and sappy phrased but a part of him knew this wasn’t just any letter.

Needless to say Bucky realised that winter really did have its sunny days.

While winter could be cold and unforgiving, it was also the warmth and comfortability of a newly lit fire. Winter was the sickly sweetness of hot cocoa that soothed you in the harshest of storms. Winter was Bucky and you were his Sunshine that showed him what more winter could be.

#bucky x female reader #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu #mcu imagine #marvel imagines #marvel fic #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #the winter soldier #pbs-thedesecrated

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dutifullynuttywitch · 5 months

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Reflections on the eve of battle

Blades of Light and Shadow 2

Pairing: Mal Volari X f!mc (Autumn Nightbloom)

Rating: Teen

Word count: 744

Summary: This takes place on the eve of the Ash Empire’s invasion in Blades of Light and Shadow 2. I kept thinking of Mal’s internal conflict throughout Blades 2 and how it would come to a head before the big battle… wanted to try and do it justice

She loved him. Mal Volari still couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“You love me.”

“Yes I do, you scoundrel. Make sure to tell everyone.”

She looked up at him with a light smirk, a twinkle in her eyes, fingers lightly tracing down his face and chest. He pulled her tighter into their intimate embrace, unbelievably happy that this woman, his kit, really loved him back.

“Oh, I plan to.”

He flashed her a bright smile, preening. Some of the old swagger returning.

And he planned on doing just that.

A giddy smile lit up his face at the memory, all too quickly replaced by the now near-constant mask of worry.

Right after figuring out how to make sure she’ll survive the upcoming battle.

His chest constricted, heart rate accelerating as the familiar panic and dread took over. The guilt at having failed her already, again and again.

At not having been fast enough to keep Valax from dragging her into that portal. At not having been sufficiently resourceful or cunning to figure out how to get her back. Or able to keep their party from slowly falling apart after their repeated failures at freeing her from the shadow realm.

He had worked himself to exhaustion all those months, grasping at any leads albeit thin, going to increasing lengths – and risks – to find artefacts or spells that could bring her back.

He had poured his earnings from defeating the Shadow Court towards opening an orphanage. A dream he had shared with her just before her disappearance, on that wonderful evening where she had finally broken down the last of his defenses and gotten him to start to hope for something better, for the possibility of happiness and a life together.

He had wanted to honor her memory, and make sure these kids had a happier alternative to the harsh, violent life he had led, growing up in the Thief’s Guild.

But really, he had needed to keep busy. He didn’t want to stop, couldn’t stop and consider the possibility that she was really gone.

That nothing he could do would bring her back.

Because those thoughts brought him to a dark and dangerous place. One he had only visited in the deepest pits of hopelessness in his reaper days, horrified at his capacity for violence and death but desperate to pay out his and his sister’s debts and free them from that terrible life.

So he kept going, like an automat, refusing to stop and feel the loss of his love, of his home, because he knew he couldn’t live in a world without her.

And then suddenly she was back. His one dream come true. Smiling, beautiful as ever, bantering and alive.

Gods how he had wanted to lose himself in her embrace and forget the world around them.

But he couldn’t relax and let himself feel the joy of her return. Couldn’t let his guard down.

She was still being hunted down by Valax and the Ash Empress. He had already failed her too many times. Wouldn’t do it again.

His dark train of thoughts returned to the present, and the impending invasion from the Ash Empire.

He looked across the sprawling camp, eyes trained on his beautiful kit, striding confidently from one group of fighters to the other, boosting morale and talking strategy.

Gods he was proud of her. His beautiful warrior. His finest treasure, the only one he would ever need.

He told her he’d have her back out on the battlefield, and he meant it. He would do whatever it took to keep her safe, help her protect the Light Realm. He would lay down his life for a chance at keeping her alive.

Amidst all the darkness and doubt swirling around in his head, that warm feeling, the seeds of hope she had planted with her patience, understanding and love, kept pulling at him.

He would die for her, but he hoped that somehow… somehow they’d make it out of this fight alive, and would have a second chance at love and a life together.

A slow, hesitant smile etched Mal’s features. He gazed on at the woman he loved.

“For you, kit, I’ll do anything.”

#blades of light and shadow #mal volari #bolas #playchoices #blades of light and shadow 2 #bolas 2 #mal volari x mc #mal x mc #choices #blades fanfic #choices stories you play #choices fanfiction #pb choices

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