#wilder mind fanfiction

[dearreader]

just spacing out thinking of maggie and wes and replying the ending on loop in my head

#i wish i’d get a sequal #but it’s stand alone and i don’t want their story to get ruined #so i’ll write fanfiction in my mind #kelly reads a far wilder magic #kelly reads

[tainsan]

misfits VII

⇥ pairing: ot8 ateez x fem! reader

⇥ warnings: anxiety, swearing, shit gets revealed :O

⇥ word count: 7.5k

⇥ a/n: this is a crazy chapter buckle up your seatbelts, pookies.

⇢ masterlist ⇠

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--- THIS IS AN 18+ FANFICTION MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ---

“I’ve actually never been to a furniture store before,” you admit, smiling towards Yunho who is driving the car towards your destination. 

When you emerged from your bedroom earlier, you could almost feel the tension in the air, you attempted to go back into your room, yet Jongho saw you and beckoned you over. Just like that, they all dispersed, going their own separate ways. You tried to read the room, seeing as they all seemed to have heavy hearts and sorrowful looks plastered on their features. Yet, they disappeared far too quickly for you to read further or even get a question out, leaving Hongjoong and Yunho in the kitchen. You were amiably surprised when Yunho said he was tagging along, claiming he needed a new set of drawers.

“We have been way too many times,” Yunho admits, his eyes not leaving the road.

“When we first moved to the house there was no furniture at all, so we had to go out and get it all. Plus, we only have one car, so many trips were necessary.” Hongjoong adds, sitting in the back seat, looking at you through the rear-view mirror.

Turning backwards to look at him, you have a baffled look on your expression, causing Hongjoong to give you a questioning stare.

“You know you can deliver the furniture, right?” You ask him, wondering if he actually didn’t know that the company delivers, to make things easier for the customers.

“I know that silly.” Hongjoong pokes your forehead softly with his index finger, “It takes two to three days to deliver, we didn’t want to sleep on the floor for three days.” He explains, an amused grin covering his features.

“Plus, we got to see it looked like, beds sofas and stuff. It was nice to try it out before buying it.” Yunho adds on, informing you further why they didn’t order what they needed online.

Realising their point, you recline back into your chair, feeling slightly bashful that you were wrong about something so confidently.

Glancing to your left, your gaze naturally falls upon Yunho, He is wearing a white button-up shirt tucked in light-washed denim pants. It’s such a simple outfit yet for some reason he just looks so good. He has his sleeves pulled up, revealing the tantalizing glimpse of his strong forearms, tense and defined. Tracing your gaze down his arms all the way to his hands, your mind gets even wilder as you notice the silver rings adorning his long slender fingers, veins flowing from his hands and up his strong arms. The sunlight cascades through the window, casting a warm glow upon his features, accentuating the chiselled lines of his jaw and the gentle curve of his lips. Your eyes scan the contours of his face, captivated by the subtle play of shadows and the spark of determination that shines in his eyes as he steers the vehicle.

A rush of warmth floods your chest, causing your heart to flutter as you realize that your feelings for Yunho may extend beyond friendship. At this moment, every feature seems to come alive, every detail etched in your mind. You can't help but be drawn to the confident yet gentle way he holds the steering wheel, and the subtle movements of his hands as they navigate the road ahead. There's an undeniable magnetism about him, an intoxicating blend of strength and tenderness that stirs something deep within you.

You catch yourself stealing glances, unable to tear your eyes away, as if you are glimpsing at a masterpiece that the world is yet to fully appreciate.

Attempting to calm your beating heart and mute the heat covering your cheeks, you take a deep, silent breath. It’s when you look up into the rear-view mirror and notice Hongjoong’s sharp, sultry eyes already staring deep into your eyes, the sudden eye contact making you feel weak at the knees, and you are suddenly thankful that you are sitting down, knowing you would have likely fallen over otherwise. Hongjoong is staring back at you with mischievous eyes and a playful smirk dancing on his lips. In that fleeting moment, his actions become laden with a teasing flirtatiousness that catches you off guard, sending a jolt of excitement through your veins. He smirks at you, accompanied by a subtle raise of his eyebrow, and playfully runs a hand through his hair. The air inside the car crackles with a newfound tension, and a rush of warmth flushes to your cheeks as you become flustered by his unexpected display. The flicker of attraction between you becomes palpable in this shared moment of connection.

Holding the stare with Hongjoong, you observe as he leans back in the seat he is residing in, his legs relaxing slightly as his body relaxes against the back of the leather chair, bringing his arms up to cross over his chest, his eyes not leaving yours for a second. The smirk is still on his features, and you just know it’s there because he saw you checking out his friend. However, wanting the attention on him, Hongjoong spreads his legs a little further, cocking an eyebrow in your direction he teases you gently, almost as if he is asking, ‘Like what you see?’ 

You hate the way his small actions have such a large impact on you, suddenly realising that you are in a car with truly gorgeous men. Amidst the hustle and bustle of your own world in recent times, you suddenly find yourself grappling with the realization that you haven't truly taken the time to appreciate just how exceptionally good-looking each member of Ateez is. A wave of awe washes over you as you stand in their presence, feeling remarkably small and insignificant, wondering how on earth you could ever be fortunate enough to be in their company. The sheer handsomeness of each member seems to magnify with every beat of your racing heart, leaving you helplessly captivated.

It's as though a curtain has been lifted, allowing you to truly see and appreciate their stunning features. The realization dawns on you that you had only scratched the surface of their attractiveness until now. The more you've gotten to know them, the more their genuine sweetness and caring nature have illuminated their physical appeal. It's as if their inner beauty has enhanced their external allure, rendering them even more striking and enchanting.

Even Yunho, who perhaps hadn't initially caught your eye as much, now seems to possess a charm that surpasses your earlier perception. The subtle nuances in his expressions, the way his eyes sparkle with mischief or soften with empathy, all contribute to an undeniable attraction that you hadn't fully recognized before. As you find yourself drawn to his presence, you can't help but acknowledge the growing appreciation you hold for his unique and appealing attractiveness.

Lost in this newfound realization, you contemplate how lucky you are to have crossed paths with these remarkable individuals. The depth of their beauty, both inside and out, fills you with a profound sense of gratitude and wonder.

In the past few days, a heightened awareness of your roommates has settled within you, penetrating your thoughts and emotions in complicated ways. Each interaction now leaves a lasting impression on your mind, causing your cheeks to flush and your heart to flutter. Despite the inner chaos and uncharted territory of these recent feelings, you dare not admit or even contemplate the idea of being attracted to all eight of your roommates.

It has been a slow process, this changing perspective that has even redefined your perception of Yunho. That fateful night spent together, retrieving your moisturizer, somehow acted as a spark, unveiling a side of him that you had never fully recognized before. In the aftermath of that unexpected encounter, Yunho's sweetness towards you has only intensified, further clouding your thoughts, and stirring unfamiliar emotions. And it's not just him; all your roommates have shown remarkable kindness towards you, further complicating your feelings.

In the depths of your mind, you fight with the realization that it may be wrong to feel your roommates as something more than friends. You understand that their actions are simply from their naturally kind-hearted nature, not from any romantic intention. Yet, despite this rational understanding, you find it challenging to control the growing attraction you feel towards them. After all, it is only human to be drawn to people who exhibit such genuine warmth and charm.

However, the situation becomes more complex when you consider the details of your daily life. These are the people you see day in and day out, your cohabitants in the place you call home. The very fact that there are eight of them amplifies the difficulty of your feelings. How could you possibly navigate these uncharted waters, let alone muster the courage to confide in Jisung, knowing that his reaction would likely be one of shock and disbelief?

You reassure yourself that it is not a mere crush that you are experiencing. It's merely an appreciation for the captivating charm that each of your roommates possesses. It's a recognition of their magnetic qualities, their ability to make your heart skip a beat with a simple gesture or genuine smile. That's all it is. It's nothing more than finding them inherently and irresistibly charming. Or so you tell yourself, as you grapple with the swirling complexity of emotions that have taken root within your heart. 

“Earth to ___?” Yunho breaks you from your thoughts by waving his hand in front of your face, when you zone back into reality, Yunho lets out a chuckle, “There you are.” 

As your gaze shifts towards the window, a sudden realization dawns upon you — you find yourself parked in an indoor parking lot, the likely underground expanse hidden from view. Puzzled, you wrack your brain, unable to recall the exact moment when you entered this parking space. A flicker of concern arises within you as you silently hope that your momentary delay of attention while gazing at Hongjoong did not lead to you staring longingly at the man.

Looking back at said man residing in the back seat, you realise he is no longer in the car. 

“Where did Hongjoong go?” You question, climbing out of the car, Yunho also departing the vehicle and closing the door behind him.

“Went to get a parking ticket,” Yunho explains, pondering what you were so intensely thinking about for the past few minutes. 

Realization prompts a nod from you, and you carefully shut the car door behind you. Swiftly gathering your belongings from the trunk, you hasten your steps to catch up with Yunho, who is already striding purposefully towards what appears to be the entrance of the expansive store. As you approach, Hongjoong appears near the entrance, his expression adorned with a gentle smile that adds a touch of warmth to the scene. 

“So, what exactly do you need?” Hongjoong questions as the three of you walk towards the large entrance of the store.

“I originally needed a bed, wardrobe, and a desk but luckily for me, I already have that. So, I’m just looking for some decorations for my room, it is a little plain. No offence” You joke, smiling at the man walking next to you, knowing the room used to be his. 

Hongjoong chuckles before answering, “I moved all my stuff from the room into the room upstairs, it looks better than you’d think.” 

“I’ll take your word for it.” 

As you step foot into the furniture shop for the very first time, a spark of excitement dances in your eyes, and a contagious enthusiasm radiates from your every pore. The vast expanse of elegant sofas, beautifully crafted tables, and stylish decor unfolds before you. Weaving through the aisles, your fingers gently brushing against the soft fabrics, eyes tracing the intricate details of each piece. The shop becomes a playground of inspiration, where you start to envision the perfect blend of comfort and style for your own living space.

Yunho and Hongjoong, watch from a distance, unable to tear their gazes away. As they observe you, they can't help but be captivated by your genuine excitement. Their hearts swell with an inexplicable warmth, witnessing the unfiltered joy that illuminates your face. At this moment, they are reminded of what you bring to their lives, and their own feelings for you start intensifying, more than they thought was even possible.

Yunho and Hongjoong, their hearts heavy with the weight of unspoken words, find relief in simply witnessing your happiness. Longing to be the source of that joy, to be the ones who can make you smile with such genuine delight.

As the three of you drift through the shop, your excitement only intensifies, the two men accompanying you exchange glances, a silent understanding passing between them. They share a mutual desire to preserve your pleasure, even if it means tucking away their own desires for now. 

As you walk past the plant section, your attention is immediately grasped by a beautiful bonsai tree. Your gaze fixates on the enchanting tree displayed in the shop, a glint of delight lights up your eyes. Its delicate branches and intricate foliage captivate you. Always having a liking towards bonsai trees, you long to possess this miniature masterpiece, immediately imagining the beauty it would bring to your desk. However, as you glance at the price tag dangling from its pot, a wave of sadness washes over you. The realization that you cannot afford such a cherished treasure weighs heavily on your heart, wishing it wasn’t so expensive. 

“Whatever,” you grumble placing the plant back where you found it, reluctantly walking away. Hongjoong and Yunho notice the sudden change in your demeanour, confusion etching across their faces as they wonder why you don’t simply buy the bonsai that has captured your affection. 

“Why don’t you get it?” Hongjoong questions as he makes his way next to you.

“It’s too expensive,” you grumble, starting to peer at other plants that are more in your price range.

“I’ll get it for you,” Hongjoong casually says as if it’s nothing.

Looking over at the man, you give him an incredulous look, not quite believing he would spend such money on you.

“What? It’s a nice plant it’ll fit your room perfectly.” He continues, slightly amused by the expression on your face. “Has no one ever bought you something nice before?” He says as a joke, yet when he sees the saddened gaze cover your eyes, his smile immediately wipes away.

“Not really.” You respond, slightly embarrassed.

“I’m getting it.” Yunho immediately says, walking back to where you left the tree, Hongjoong hastily joining him in his steps

“Yunho? Hongjoong stop, it’s too expensive.” You exclaim as you follow on their heels.

“___, just let us. You deserve it.” Yunho says, a blush creeping up his neck as he sees the wide eyed, adorable look present on your face.

“What do you mean? Put it back guys.” You desperately attempt to halt them spending their money on you.

“You deserve nice things,” Hongjoong says, looking you in the eyes, “you deserve even more than this,”

“Just let us buy it, please?” Yunho adds.

The confessions of your roommates catch you completely off guard, leaving you in a state of shock and disbelief. Your heart seems to race at an almost impossible speed, thumping loudly in your chest as their words sink in, the sudden surge of emotion causing your cheeks to feel fiery.

Their heartfelt admission has an astonishing effect on you, intensifying the emotions you've been trying to navigate. The mixture of shock and warmth that courses through you in response to their words only serves to strengthen the feelings you hold deep within your heart. It's a moment you hadn't anticipated, yet you know it will leave an indelible mark on your memory.

“Okay, fine.” Is all you manage to say.

——

“So, is that all you need?” Yunho questions, as the three of you reach the end of the store, near the cashiers. Looking down at the basket Hongjoong is holding, it is nearly full to the brim with small decorations you found cute or fitting for your new bedroom.

Smiling up at the tall man, you nod shortly, excited to get home and arrange all the objects around. Yunho chuckles at the childish grin plastered on your face, not exactly understanding why it is that you’re so thrilled. Nonetheless, the beam on your face is far too infectious, and even he has a hard time masking the smile that is twitching at the corners of his lips.

“Okay, I will pay for my things quickly and I’ll meet you by the car?” You ask, beginning to stand in line to pay.

“We will help you carry the things,” Hongjoong replies, not moving from his spot, wanting an excuse to stay with you for as long as he can, never really having the chance when you are home.

“Please, it’s okay. I will meet you there,” you reply, when you see Yunho opening his mouth to retort, you stick your finger at the both of them, “I’m not taking no for an answer.” 

They both chuckle at your adorable antics before unwillingly heading towards the car park, where they will wait for you patiently.

Waving at them as they walk away, you turn your attention back to the line that you are standing in, the basket of ornaments held by your hands. Realizing the line isn’t too big, you feel yourself being relieved, not wanting to make Yunho and Hongjoong wait for too long. 

Approaching the cashier, ready to pay for your items, your anticipation mixes with a sense of accomplishment. With each item scanned and placed in a bag, you relish the satisfaction of transforming your vision into actual pieces for your room. 

Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly feel a jolt as a man dressed in black carelessly bumps into you, causing your grip to loosen. The item you were holding slips from your hand, a momentary panic gripping your heart. Thankfully, it lands on the ground without breaking, but you can't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at the man's lack of consideration. 

Looking up, you somewhat expect to see him swiftly approaching with an apology, but to your surprise, he continues on his way, heading towards the exit, leaving you with a mix of confusion and lingering irritation. Scoffing, you look back at your items and continue putting them into the bag.

Walking back to the car, you try to remember where exactly the car was parked. You didn’t even know they had a car until this morning, so you still aren’t completely familiar with the model or size of the car, only remembering it is white. Maybe a Ford, maybe a Toyota? You can’t remember. At least you remembered what level of the car park you were at, and that it was next to a green wall. 

Scanning for the green wall, you are delighted when you find it, next to it a white Mercedes. Your guesses were close enough. Happily making your way to it, you are stopped in your tracks when you see the very person who had bumped into you, standing near the car, causing you momentarily stop walking towards the vehicle, knowing hundreds of stories about people being kidnapped next to their cars. When the person notices you, they immediately start strolling towards you, and for some reason, you thought you would be feeling afraid, yet for some reason, the man in front of you looks extremely familiar, way too familiar. It only clicks in your head when the man is about seven feet from you. 

“Danny? What are you doing here?” You question, recognising the man from one of your classes in high school. The suspicion and fright leave your body instantly as you realise who the man is, knowing him as one of the kinder people from your high school. After all the mess had happened, he was one of the only people who still talked to you. He wasn’t particularly one of your friends, but he definitely wasn’t someone you would hate to see again.

“___, I was wondering if that was you.” He exclaims as he reaches you, a smile on his face. 

“How did you even recognise me,” you joke, knowing your looks from a few years ago are drastically different from what they are now.

“I am very good at remembering people’s faces, sorry for bumping into you, I was too busy on my phone,” Danny explains, his hand going up to scratch the back of his neck, a light blush on his cheeks, feeling embarrassed for potentially hurting you.

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply as you start to walk towards the car, not having to worry about being kidnapped anymore. Trying to open the trunk, you’re surprised when it doesn’t budge, and you realise that Yunho and Hongjoong haven’t reached the vehicle yet, making you worry ever so slightly.

“So, what are you doing in this city?” Danny asks, curious as to why you are here.

“I’m actually going to college here at the moment,” You smile, answering his question.

Danny has a shocked look on his face, “that’s crazy. You were always smart, but I never thought you were this smart. Isn’t this city's college super hard to get into?” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, and yes it was very difficult, but I made it.” You beam at the man, glad that it isn’t awkward to see him again. “What are you doing here by the way?” You question, realising you don’t know the reason for his random appearance.

“Oh, me and my girlfriend are visiting, I have some distant relatives here who she hasn’t met yet. I wanted to come to this shop because my aunt needed some screws for a broken bed,"

"Are you waiting on your girlfriend now?"

"No she hates furniture stores, so I decided to come quickly seeing as she’s busy.”

“I’m happy for you, Danny! How long have you guys been together?” 

“Thank you, ___. Just a little after we graduated high school, she went to the high school near ours.” 

“I see, that’s great!”

“Yeah, i guess so,” Danny says, with a sorrowful smile on his face.

“Kind of? What’s up, having some relationship troubles?” You question, reassuringly placing your hand on his shoulder, letting him know he is able to confide in you.

Danny sighs before answering, “I don’t know, recently she’s been acting strange, a few nights ago when she found out some of my relatives were living here, she demanded to go and meet them. It just doesn’t seem like her, she has never really been interested in meeting my family. Plus, when I woke up today, she wasn’t even in the hotel room, all she left was a note saying she was out doing something important. I don’t know what it means or what’s happening or if she is cheating, but it’s very confusing. I’m so sorry for ranting oh my God.” Danny exclaims, covering his face with his hands, embarrassed for suddenly loading a bunch of information on you, but it’s not like you care at all.

“Don’t worry, I really don’t mind. It sounds like she’s got some things going on in her head, my advice to for you to just sit down with her and ask her. If she’s cheating, it is definitely her loss, trust me.” You reassure the man, offering him a gentle comforting smile. It looks as if he really needed to talk to someone and you can only hope in this moment that his girlfriend isn’t out being unfaithful, knowing how much of a sweetheart Danny is. 

It’s when you hear Hongjoong’s voice that you’re brought back to reality, “Sorry, ___, the ticket machine wasn’t accepting my card for some reason,” Hongjoong appears from your left, Yunho next to him and you are pleased they are back, wanting some much-needed time to sit down after being on your feet for so long. 

“I was wondering where you two were,” you say, looking up at your roommates who have completely stopped and have bewildered looks on their faces, spiking your interest. They don’t look shocked or confused, but fearful and irritated. 

Hongjoong and Yunho were discreetly observing from a distance, their hearts skipping a beat as they notice you engaged in conversation with a random man. Concern flickers in their eyes, a protective instinct taking hold. The gentle furrow of their brows reveals their shared worry, their minds racing with the possibilities of what might be happening. From their place, they cannot hear the words exchanged, leaving them with a sense of uncertainty. Are you in trouble? The tension hangs thick in the air as they remain on high alert as they make their way towards you, almost sprinting. However, when they recognise the man who you are so happily chatting to, their hearts almost stop in their chests. All they can do is act normal and pretend they have no idea who the man is, in hopes that, just like you, he won’t be able to identify them.

“Oh, this is Danny, we used to go to high school together,” you explain, knowing that Yunho and Hongjoong would likely be confused as to why you are nattering with a random stranger. Instantly, Hongjoong and Yunho regain their composure, acting as if they were never taken aback. The change in their behaviour was minuscule, yet you somehow managed to notice it and you hope there is nothing wrong. Just like that, their cold exterior is back up, as if it never left.

“Hi,” Hongjoong says bluntly, not even bothering to look Danny in the eyes, simply walking past him and unlocking the car, opening the trunk, and taking the bag from your hands. Silently thanking him, he looks up at you and gives a brief smile. 

You expect Danny to bid his goodbyes, yet for some reason, he is staring at Yunho and Hongjoong, with a puzzled look on his features. 

“What’s up?” You question, wondering what has Danny’s attention so deeply, it looks as if he is analysing the two of them very thoroughly.

He stays silent for only a few seconds, yet for some reason it feels like an eternity, when he decides to speak it catches you off guard, “Of all the people I was expecting to meet, Kim Hongjoong and Jeong Yunho were definitely not on that list.” Danny’s words are fast, but they feel extremely lengthy, he continues speaking, “Well it does make sense you’re hanging around the group, ___. You were always with Seonghwa.” 

Hongjoong and Yunho feel their breaths catch in their throat, their world feels like it's crashing down on them, unable to carry the weight. They look at you, hoping that you do not understand and brush it off, but they know you well enough to not let it slide.

“What do you mean?” You ask, looking at Yunho and Hongjoong with a confused expression, before glancing back at Danny, “you know them?” You ask him, extremely baffled as to why Danny of all people would know about Ateez, thinking only people in your college would be accustomed to the group.

“Yes? Why do you sound so confused? Everyone thought you guys died.” Danny points his statement towards the two males, who are looking incredibly uncomfortable.

“Let’s go, ___.” Yunho demands, his voice the same tone as how you heard it when you first met, venomous, yet this time it isn’t pointed at you. The two want to, need to get out of here before Danny says anything further, uncovering more information for you.

“Yunho, wait. Danny what are you talking about, what group? How do you know Seonghwa?” you inquire, desperate for answers and fast.

Hongjoong calls your name, his voice desperately wanting you to get in the car and get away from the situation before Danny can answer your questions. Looking, at Hongjoong, you see the desperate look in his eyes, and it confuses you further. Why won’t they let you hear the answer, and why are they so agitated by the man in front of you?

“KQ Fellaz? That group you were always with.” 

Hongjoong and Yunho curse, Hongjoong letting out a loud exhale and Yunho immediately grabbing your arm, softly pulling you towards the vehicle, begging you to get in.

“KQ? What do they have to do with…” Your voice trails off, your mind starts to unconsciously piece together all the parts, the memories, words, actions, everything starting to fit into place, and you suddenly feel incredibly brainless for not doing it earlier. No wonder they all felt so familiar, memories of the few weeks during the final year of high school come flooding back and you rapidly recognise why you were so gravitated to the group you live with now. 

They are KQ Fellaz. Ateez were KQ Fellaz. The outcasted boys you had spent countless days and nights with. It has been almost four years, which explains why they look severely different, but of course, their eyes stayed the same, and that’s exactly why you were drawn into the naturalness of each of their gazes. That explains why the group you have come to know recently, have been so kind, despite their reputation. 

As the truth unravels before you, your world shatters into a million pieces, leaving you feeling utterly betrayed by the eight boys who have seemingly re-entered your life. In the depths of your distress, you suddenly realize that they had known all along. The weight of their deception presses upon your heart, suffocating you with a mix of anger, hurt, and a profound sense of betrayal that resonates to the core of your being.

Memories flood her mind, moments spent together, laughter shared, secrets whispered. The realization that they were aware of the cherished moments while you remained ignorant, cuts through your soul like a knife. The questions multiply, tormenting you with the relentless demand for answers. Why had they chosen to keep this truth from you? What were their motives? And perhaps most agonizingly, how have you been so blind to their hidden knowledge, their shared past?

The emotions burst open, unleashing a torrent of pain and confusion. The sorrow swells within you, an overwhelming wave crashing against your heart. The trust you thought you were building with your roommates, now crumbles beneath your feet. Struggling with a deep sense of disappointment, questioning not only the intentions of your ‘friends’ but also your own ability to determine true friendship.

“I see.” You barely manage to get out. “It was nice to see you, Danny.” The meek smile on your face is clearly forced and Danny feels extremely guilty realising he said information that was unknown to you. All he can do is nod and give you a supportive smile, before heading in his own direction.

Slipping into the car, a wave of discomfort washes over you, prompting you to take a seat in the back, intentionally creating a physical distance between yourself, Yunho, and Hongjoong. As the door slams shut, you hastily retrieve your phone from your back pocket, your fingers typing out a message to Jisung. The urgency in your text is palpable as you request that you can stay at his place tonight, recalling that many of his roommates are currently away.

Outside the car, Hongjoong and Yunho stand frozen, their hearts pounding in their chests like a relentless drumbeat. The weight of the situation presses heavily upon them, and when their eyes meet, within that brief exchange, they can see the storm of emotions raging within each other. It's as if a mirror reflects their own turbulence, a shared understanding of the pain and anguish they both feel.

Taking his place in the passenger seat, Hongjoong turns his gaze back towards you, his expression filled with a mixture of sorrow and desperation. Your hunched form, wounded and distant, tugs at his heartstrings, causing his own heart to plummet to depths he didn't think were possible. Though he has endured his fair share of hardships, the sight of betrayal and resentment etched across your face pierces him in a way he has never experienced before.

Yunho joins Hongjoong in the front of the car, his body swivelling to face you, his eyes filled with an agonizing mixture of remorse and yearning. Hongjoong gently calls out your name, his voice a fragile plea to offer an explanation, to bridge the divide that has grown between you. However, before he can utter a single word, you cut him off, your voice brimming with a mixture of anger and hurt. 

“Drive.” Your voice is the most, hatred filled, venomous and hurt they have ever heard, you don’t even bother to look at them as you speak, afraid if you look in their eyes one more time, you would be destroyed. Inhaling heavily, they both turn around to face the front of the car. Pausing a moment, before deciding they will talk as soon as you get home and give you all the responses you wish to hear.

The car ride home is a stark contrast to the cheerful journey that brought you here earlier. Laughter and light-hearted banter have been replaced by a suffocating silence, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tension. The atmosphere inside the car is so thick that it hangs in the air, weighing down on everyone's shoulders like an oppressive burden. Even the most cutting-edge tool would struggle to slice through the palpable tension that fills the vehicle.

In a fleeting moment, your eyes meet Hongjoong's reflection in the rear-view mirror. Within those brief seconds, you catch a glimpse of the profound sorrow and longing that lingers in his gaze. It strikes a chord deep within your heart, causing it to fracture a little more. Unbeknownst to you, Hongjoong's mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, spinning in a storm of overthinking that he has never experienced to this extent before. 

On the left side of the car, Yunho mirrors Hongjoong's internal struggle. His hands tightly grip the steering wheel, his chest constricting with every passing second as if he might collapse from the overwhelming weight of guilt that courses through his veins. He keeps his focus on the road ahead, his jaw clenched, tears welling in his eyes, desperately fighting to regain control over the torrent of emotions that threaten to eat him alive.

As the car pulls into the garage of the once-familiar house, a sense of unease washes over you. The once-welcoming ambience has transformed into something cold, foreign, and unrecognizable. Your chest tightens, and the overwhelming sense of utter disloyalty becomes almost too much to bear. You storm into the house, racing ahead of Hongjoong and Yunho who trail closely behind, their footsteps quick and urgent as they frantically try to reach you before you disappear into the solace of your room. 

“__, please stop. Talk to us.” Hongjoong’s voice is desperate as he tries to persuade you to halt your movements. You aren’t sure if it is luck or misfortune as you make your way to the kitchen and see every one of your roommates sitting around the island, chatting, and eating their lunch. Forgetting it is their free day, you curse internally, feeling tears already prick at your eyes when the everyday faces you look at become distorted, your vision only being able to see the men who left you four years ago.

As they catch sight of you, the men approach with warm smiles, their hearts lifted at your early return. They had been looking forward to chatting and sharing a meal together, eager to enjoy each other's company. However, their joy quickly dissipates as they take in the contorted, disgusted expression etched across your face. In an instant, worry floods their beings, their thoughts immediately drawn to the earlier conversation about Ryu that still lingers in their minds. The atmosphere shifts, tension intertwining with their concern, creating an uncomfortable heaviness in the room.

Seonghwa rises from his chair, his brows furrowing with concern as he strides towards you, a mix of worry and determination carved into his face. He watches as you storm past him, the force of your collision causing him to stagger slightly. A sharp pang shoots through his chest, not just from the physical impact, but also from the emotional weight behind your actions. It feels as though his heart has been squeezed tightly, aching with the pain of seeing you so distraught. 

At the island, the other five men rise from their seats, their eyes following the unfolding scene with a mixture of confusion, alarm, and growing concern. Their gazes shift from you to Yunho and Hongjoong, who swiftly give chase, their expressions reflecting a desperate need to stop you in your tracks and understand what has caused such distress. Seonghwa's initial suspicion that Yunho may have been involved in triggering your reaction dissipates, replaced by a deepening worry for your well-being. 

The room is filled with an air of tension and unease as the members of the group stand, their bodies poised in a mixture of anticipation and confusion. Each of them yearns to uncover the hidden emotions behind your furious actions, their senses heightened as they try to decipher the commotion that has enveloped the room. 

“__, stop, now.” Hongjoong’s voice booms around the kitchen, echoing with authority and you once again, realise why he is the leader of the group.

Coming to a sudden stop, you pivot on your heels, your body facing the kitchen once more. A fusion of determination and vulnerability flickers in your eyes as you lock gazes with the eight men in the room. Their varied expressions mix puzzlement, concern, and a tinge of guilt. 

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle upon your shoulders. This is the opportunity to confront them all, to lay bare the swirling emotions and shattered trust that now consumes your heart. These were the friends you once believed in with unwavering loyalty, the ones you thought you could confide in and rely on with your whole being. It's a bittersweet realization, knowing that the ones you held closest have become the source of your pain and confusion. Yet, you cannot turn away from the truth. You need to face the situation head-on and seek the answers and resolution you so desperately need. 

“No, Hongjoong, why don’t you stop.” Your voice matches his tone and for a second you can see him flinch at the harshness of your expression, never having heard or seen you this serious or mad before, your voice never having reached above a shout before. Looking around at the men who all have dreading expressions plastered on their faces, you feel even more angry at how they could hide something so large, so personal, so utterly heartbreaking from you. 

“When were you planning on telling me?” you speak again, the anger evident in your voice, yet by the way the tears are forming in your eyes, they can tell you aren’t just mad, but betrayed. The tone in your voice is broken and hurt.

“We were going to tell you,” Yunho explains, his voice quiet, feeling incredibly guilty that the way you had to find out was through someone else, not them.

“I’m sorry what is happening?” Jongho inquires, asking the question that all five of the men who were previously sat down, were wanting to ask. Yet, for some reason they have a good guess at what the answer might be, dread filling their hearts, causing an impending sense of doom to fill their gut. Silence falls upon the room, the tension thickening as each second passes that you don’t answer. 

“Answer.” You say, your voice gentle, prompting either Hongjoong or Yunho to reply, explaining what dreadful occurrence has just happened. When neither of them speaks, only looking at you with begging eyes, you raise your voice once again, “Answer it.” You yell, causing all eight men to recoil.

Yunho decides to speak, looking towards his friends who are extremely on edge, dreading the words coming from his shaking lips, “We ran into someone…” 

Yeosang slams his hand onto the island, rage encasing his entire being. Thinking it was Ryu they ran into, his heart stops in his chest and he sees red. 

“It was Danny,” Hongjoong says instantly, recognising why everyone suddenly tensed up even further.

“What else? Hongjoong.” You spit, the emotions of fury overwhelming all the others.

The way you boom his name pierces through his heart, his breath catching in his throat, tears almost threatening to fall from his eyes, his beautiful eyes. Fuck.

“He recognised us.” This is all Hongjoong says before the tears fall freely from his eyes, the sight breaking you in half, muting your anger slightly, it being replaced by all the desolation and gloom you have in your body. 

As the weight of the truth settles in the room, a collective realization sweeps through the eight men. Their expressions shift, revealing a mixture of guilt, anguish, and remorse. The air becomes thick with tension as San and Mingi, overcome with their own instability, resort to desperate gestures; running their hands agitatedly through their dishevelled hair, unable to meet your gaze. Jongho, his face hidden behind trembling hands, struggles to process the gravity of the situation, his breaths coming in deep and uneven. Yeosang averts his eyes, unable to witness the devastating impact of your shattered trust, tears brimming in his own. 

However, amidst the chaos, Seonghwa remains fixated on you, his gaze unyielding despite the cracks forming in his own heart. As your eyes meet him, a flood of memories rushes back to you, an overwhelming explosion of anguish and despair from the darkest night of your life. It dawns on you with a haunting clarity that he must have been the one you encountered on that rooftop, the boy whose vulnerability and brokenness mirrored your own. The weight of that realization hits you with an intensity that sends waves of anxiety coursing through your body, a painful reminder of the shared pain and scars etched deep within your souls.

As the weight of the truth crashes down upon you, your body trembles uncontrollably, the ground beneath your feet becoming unsteady. Your legs give way, collapsing beneath you, and you crumple to the floor in a heap of despair. Sobs wrack your body, each one an emotional release of the pain and agony that fills your shattered heart. Your mind becomes a swirling vortex of torment, entangled with thoughts that are both haunting and devastating—a torment that incorporates the present, the past, and an uncertain future.

In an instant, Seonghwa and Yunho rush to your side, their presence a lifeline in the midst of your despair. They kneel down beside you, their arms reaching out to provide comfort and support, their faces etched with concern and helplessness. The remaining members of the group converge around you. Their eyes are filled with a mixture of compassion and desperation, yearning to alleviate your pain, to ease the torment that grips your mind. Together, they form a protective circle around you, their collective presence a symbol of unwavering support. 

“Don’t touch me, get the fuck away from me.” You almost scream, feeling their hands on your arms, their bodies close to you, the words crushing their hearts. Needing to get as far away from here as possible, you attempt to stand, but your legs give up again, the panic getting too much for you to handle. 

“­Tiny, let us help.” Yunho’s voice is the softest you have ever heard, making you break even more.

“Don’t you dare call me that? I trusted you most, Yunho.” Your voice is raw and hoarse, the emotions spilling through, the sound of your feelings pinching the hearts of the men around you. 

With Seonghwa's gentle assistance, you manage to regain your footing, though you push him away immediately, needing a moment of independence amidst the whirlwind of emotions. The room falls into an eerie stillness, the air heavy with anticipation, as the gaze of eight pairs of eyes remains fixed upon you. Their hearts pound in their chests, bracing themselves for the impact of your words, fearing the repercussions of what you might reveal next. 

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you steady yourself, mustering the strength to voice the thoughts that have haunted your mind for years. The weight of your words hangs palpably in the air, a thick fog of vulnerability and revelation enveloping the room. Each member of the group feels their heart clench in anticipation, their breathing hitching as they prepare themselves for the final straw, the crushing blow to their already battered souls. 

And then, the words spill forth from your trembling lips, carrying with them the raw essence of your pain, your betrayal, and your deepest fears. The room becomes a tempest of emotions, a storm unleashed by your words. Shock, disbelief, and anguish etch themselves onto the faces of the eight men, their expressions frozen in a tableau of shattered trust and shattered dreams. The impact of your confession reverberates through the room, each word a dagger that pierces their hearts with unrelenting force.

“They told me you died; I spent months convincing myself it wasn’t true.”

Yunho's voice quivers with desperation as he urgently calls out your name, the cracks in his tone baring the weight of his emotions that rock on the edge of spilling forth in a stream of tears. The eight men surrounding you, bound by an overwhelming bond, collectively hold their breaths, their very souls entwined in this dreadful moment. Each of them, their hearts heavy with empathy and love, feels their spirits fracture at the mere thought of you bearing the burden of their deaths with no one to fall to.

In the gloomy silence that follows, a distressing realization hangs in the air, intertwining the threads of their unbreakable connection. It is a bittersweet recognition that while their lives are intrinsically entangled with yours, they are also painfully aware of the toll it takes on your spirit. Their hearts ache, fuelled by a profound sense of protectiveness and a desperate desire to shield you from any pain or hardship that may lie ahead. 

“I needed you, all of you.”

------

⇢ taglist: @lilactangerine @plutoneu @abby-grace @sunkissed725 @lixiel0ver @acciocriativity @hyukssunflower @sunukissed @khjcoo @stopeatread @meginthebuilding27 @mychickentendou @sunnyhokyu @rxnexxi @croa-yevon @arabelleum @randomness7198 @dysftopia @lucymultistan @sookacc @starillusion13 @daceydeath @theamazinggrace-000 @smilingtokki @hasgalore @pytssamworld @just-a-really-bored-kpop-fan @satsuri3su @theonesoldtoonedirection @wooya1224 @deadpoetsandhoney @skztrophy @kunhengie @tinyelfperson @l0vetiny @simplyalfie @doggopepper @seungily @dino-teezerr @silentcry329 @formulateez @senpai-of-doom @aaaaajonghooooo @ijwsbdinp ​@liniiiaa @channiespup @heyitstacy @eightmakesonebraincell @araknoid @itsmeregan @rynmlk @kazuhateez @galaxypox @chermonroe @babyhailey819 @euphoricdeni @wooya1224 @matzbear @h-nji

if you asked to be tagged and do not see your account it is because you cannot be tagged, i am sorry.

#ateez #ateez poly #ateez smut #ateez x reader #poly ateez #atz #atz smut #atz x reader #hongjoong #hongjoong smut #hongjoong angst #seonghwa #seonghwa smut #seonghwa angst #yunho #yunho angst #yunho smut #yeosang #yeosang smut #yeosang angst #san #san smut #san angst #mingi #mingi smut #mingi angst #wooyoung #wooyoung angst #ateez imagines #wooyoung smut

[mellowcherryblossomblaze]

Trolls: Band Together TV Series (Idea) Part 2

NOTE: AGAIN, NONE OF THIS IS OFFICIAL, JUST SPECULATION. BUT IF ANYONE WANTS TO WRITE FANFICTION BASED ON THESE IDEAS, FEEL FREE TO DO SO.

Trolls: Family Harmony: Season 2

It's A Troll-A-Bration!: Poppy and Branch visit newlyweds Gristle and Bridget as they celebrate Troll-A-Bration. Viva tags along to prove she can put her fear of Bergens behind her, but struggles to keep her anxiety in check.

Physical Hair-apy: Floyd's hair has become weaker following his time in the diamond, so Synth and Smidge help him build his strength back up in the Hairnasium. But Floyd becomes frustrated with his lack of progress, worried he may never fully recover from his trauma.

Down The Creek: Branch is shocked to learn that Clay has formed a friendship with Creek, but reluctantly decides not to say anything. It is only when Clay gets a glimpse of Creek's true colors that he realizes the negative impact his 'friend' has on his little brother.

Cloud Pleaser: While visiting Bruce on Vacay Island, Branch learns that a vacationing Cloud Guy has been annoying his brother all week. So Branch bravely decides to keep Cloud Guy busy for the day so that Bruce can get some work done.

Fast-Friend Matching: John Dory enlists Poppy's help after realizing his prolonged time in the wilderness has hindered his ability to socialize with other Trolls. So Poppy sets him up on a series of 'fast-friend matches' to help him get back in the friend-making game.

Date Night: After realizing they've never had an official date together, Poppy and Branch try to have a romantic dinner alone, but they both keep getting distracted by other tasks and Trolls.

Queen For A Day: Poppy comes down with a bad cold, so Viva decides to take over her responsibilities as Queen until she's better. But she quickly realizes that keeping up with Poppy's daily activities is harder than it looks.

Vocal Range For Trollings: After learning that Floyd used to be a music instructor in Mount Rageous, Branch suggests that he take a job as a teacher for the younger Trollings.

Classical Clay: Clay becomes fascinated by the Classical Trolls' lifestyle, so he tries to hide his Pop tendencies and go full Classical to win their approval. But Demo eventually helps him see that the Classical Trolls have become more open-minded to other genres.

Check-In: Poppy is overjoyed to have a surprise reunion with DJ Suki after running into her and King Trollex at Bruce's restaurant. As DJ explains how her stay in Techno Reef has been, Poppy seeks Bruce's help when she worries that she and DJ have begun to grow apart.

Caved In: Stranded in the forest during a rainstorm, Branch and John Dory take shelter in a cave for the night. John Dory gets a glimpse of his little brother's survival skills, and Branch learns more about his older brother's past when he shares a story about their mother.

How Are You?: Poppy spends an entire day helping her friends with their problems, while unknowingly letting some of her own fears and insecurities slip out. Too caught up in work to notice, it isn't until her family intervenes that Poppy discovers that she's been ignoring her own feelings for longer than even she realized.

#trolls #trolls band together #trolls 3 #trolls fandom #queen poppy #branch #brozone #john dory #bruce #clay #floyd #viva #king gristle #bridget #king peppy

[your-eternal-lies]

LOVE IS A CHOICE (chapter two)

Main Navigation || Please follow @your-eternal-library for all my fanfiction updates.

PAIRING — Bucky Barnes x Agent f!Reader SERIES SUMMARY — In your experience, relationships only bring drama and heartbreak, and you want absolutely none of it. That is, until an act of sheer recklessness brings Bucky Barnes back into your life.

Warnings — Angst, blood and injury, Reader gets stitches, Hydra are assholes, references to abusive childhood/Black Widow training.

LOVE IS A CHOICE

CHAPTER TWO

The world seems to hold its breath as you emerge from behind the jagged tree line, which opens up into a wide clearing and draws your eyes to a derelict facility looming tall amongst the surrounding mountains. Your boots crunch softly on the gravel as you approach, your eyes scanning the horizon with trained vigilance. 

The absence of guards or surveillance equipment does not escape your notice—it’s too quiet, too serene; a masquerade of peace where you suspected dark secrets are surely hidden under the guise of solitude. 

“Too easy,” you murmur as your sharp gaze falls upon the entrance. There are no locks, no retinal scanners, nothing that speaks of the advanced defences you’ve come to expect on missions like these. It makes you wary, your shoulders tensing as you deliberate.

You know better than anyone how appearances often deceived.

You pause at the threshold, the moment stretching into an eternity. You know you should call for backup, but your pride—and something a little darker—prevents you from reaching for your earpiece. You take a breath and step inside, crossing over the unseen line between wilderness and the unknown. 

The interior sprawls out like a futuristic lab, its walls lined with sleek panels and blinking lights that bath you in a cold artificial glow. With the practiced ease of someone who has mastered the art of espionage, you move with purposeful strides, each step measured and soundless against the floors. 

You quickly reach an impasse at the end of the hallway, standing before a series of locked doors. You withdraw a set of slim tools from your belt, the instruments of your craft glinting faintly in the artificial light. Tony might enjoy using technology to his advantage, but you sometimes like to take the old-fashioned way. Some skills need to be kept sharp.

The door yields with a muted click and you slip through. The corridor stretches ahead into the dark before rounding a corner, and you stop dead in your tracks. 

Drones hover all around the room like mechanical vultures, their sensors swivelling and scanning with an unfeeling precision. A single misstep, a solitary breath too loud, would no doubt summon a swarm of steel and scrutiny. 

You should definitely turn back and call for backup now. All your instincts tell you as much, but the computer is right there. All you need to do is insert the USB and download as much data as you can without being seen. Child’s play. 

But despite how you manage to convince yourself, there is a nagging voice at the back of your mind that reminds you that none of this is tactical. You’re simply being reckless. 

Almost like you’re punishing yourself for crimes committed by someone who is long dead, for not seeing through him sooner, and for still caring enough to let him haunt your dreams. 

What are you trying to prove? Hydra took everything from you. And even now, you can see the looks of skepticism you receive from some of the other agents, wondering if you’re one of the proverbial wolves in sheep’s clothing. Look at who your ex-partner was, after all. 

But what good would all this do if you were dead? Tony would be pissed. Steve would be disappointed. Well, maybe then you’d at least finally be able to rest. 

But Natasha.

The only relationship of yours that has stood the test of time. The only person in the world you could trust to never let you down. The only one you were still brave enough to love.

Oh, Natasha would be devastated. 

Always the worrier, that one, ever since you met her at the Red Room Academy. Nobody thought you would survive there; you were just a tiny little thing—the figurative runt of the litter. 

While the winters in Belarus were mild, you were already of weak disposition by the time you were taken, and the demands of the Black Widow’s training program seemed to tip the odds right out of your favour. 

You were barely fed as a result. Why waste resources on a girl who might die before the seasons even turned? Most of the others, even if they might have felt sorry for you, spared you no affection for fear of what the repercussions might be. 

You spent most of your days in the underground dungeons—sometimes because you remained defiant in the face of their training, and other times due to nothing else but the wickedness of your handlers—shivering under a thin blanket and a barely there nightgown. They hadn’t even bothered to give you a name. 

Well, that was a lie. They called you kroshka. Baby. Crumb. Your instructors, their faces now blurred and distorted in your distant memories, liked to remind you that you were but an insignificant speck in the whole of the universe. Your existence could be easily brushed away like crumbs from a table. 

You could disappear tomorrow and nobody would even blink, they told you. Nobody would even search for you, would they? Kroshka, they would say, their smiles falsely sweet, we could have another girl here within the hour. 

Their message was clear. You were easily replaced; unimportant, unwanted, and unloved. 

Until Natasha Romanoff became the only person who ever dared to give a damn about you. Whenever you were allowed out of the dungeons, she shared her meagre meals with you, let you climb into her bunk at night to keep each other warm, and turned the word that had plagued you all your life into a term of endearment. 

Despite how much the Program had tried to take away your humanity, it was—thank god—yours to keep so long as you had Natasha. Unlike what everyone kept telling you over and over, tried to assure you in falsely dulcet tones after the forced hysterectomy, love was not so disgusting and miserable as they had always made it seem.

How could it be? It gave you laughter and happiness, no matter how fleeting, even when the circumstances were dire. It gave you warmth, even though it seemed like those winters would never end. It gave you hope that your life, while perhaps inconsequential to the rest of the world, it was not so for at least one other person.

And it all came in the form of a redheaded girl with bright green eyes and a heart too good for them to break, who would continue to call you her sister for the rest of her days.

You loved Natasha so dearly that, even though she disappeared on a mission one day and didn’t report back when she said she would, you weren’t even angry. Not even after learning she had defected and became a soldier for the enemy country, now fighting to take down the very organization she used to work for.

Your instructors wanted you to be furious, ordered you to go after the traitor and burn her new life to the ground, and locked you in the dreaded underground cells of the Lubyanka when you refused. All you could do in the solitude of the prison was pray to a god that had never listened to you before that Natasha would stay away.

If you never saw Natasha again, then you could be certain, or at least go to your grave believing, that she was warm, safe, and well-fed. Perhaps you could even dream that she was loved by more than just a mere kroshka.

A reunion would only end in tragedy, after all. The unspoken rules of your training dictated that only one of you would walk out of it alive.

Or so you thought.

Because she came back for you. You woke one day in your cell and found yourself looking up into her green eyes, ones you never thought you would see again. Your tears were reflected in her own as she gathered you in her arms, apologizing over and over again for taking so long.

The two of you would finally be free, she said. And that was when she took you to the United States, presented you with two options: live out the rest of your life peacefully as a civilian, or join SHIELD with her and maybe do some good for once. She opened a door to a world of possibilities, and you chose the latter. 

She gave you a proper name.

Once again, she gave you a home.

And even after discovering that your former partner was dirty, Natasha always gave you the benefit of the doubt. 

So, while it might seem like you have a death wish these days, defying your Captain’s orders and breaking protocol to dive into this mission solo, you can’t die here. 

Thoughts of Natasha pull you back, but it’s too late. One of the drones spots your movements and the air instantly shifts. You hear a sudden rush of footsteps before Hydra agents emerge like phantoms from the darkness, their weapons drawn. 

Your heart sinks with the cold slap of reality, but you have no time to lament. You move with precision, your training with SHIELD and the KGB a silent partner in your deadly grace, the dance of your battle set to the music of clashing steel and gunfire. 

Each guard that lunges at you is met with the swift rebuttal of your fists, a careful parry of your kicks, falling like autumn leaves. You carve a path towards freedom with every fallen adversary, but for each one that falters, two more arise, and your skill is overwhelmed by sheer numbers. 

Just as you are about to step back out into the wilderness, more shots ring out, shattering the still winter air. Pain blossoms in your upper arm, your side, and in your thigh just above the knee, stealing the breath from your lungs and breaking the rhythm of your stride. 

But you can’t stop. You stagger towards your quinjet, hidden amongst the trees, blood painting a stark path in the gleaming blanket of snow. Summoning a familiar strength that’s born out of complete and utter desperation, you fight through the searing pain, mentally screaming at your legs to keep pumping. 

You can’t die here. Not now, not after everything you’ve already survived. 

The quinjet finally comes into view and the adrenaline seems to choose that exact same time to leave your veins. You collapse against the side doors, trying to breathe through the pain as you press your left hand against the most serious wound in your side. Your shaky fingers glide over the keypad, a high-pitched beep granting you access indoors. 

The sound of footsteps grow closer and you quickly start the engines, keying in the coordinates for the closest safe house with trembling hands, your vision blurring as you wrestle with consciousness. The jet roars to life, carrying you away from the clutches of your enemies just in the nick of time. 

You spend the next twenty minutes fumbling with the first aid kit with the quinjet on auto-pilot. The wounds in your arm and thigh are through-and-throughs. The first practically a flesh wound in your line of work, and the latter, while not exactly a walk in the park, it’s missed all vital arteries. 

Opening up the kit with one hand, you curse when you’re out of antiseptic. You quickly pull out some gauze and start packing the wounds, but you can only manage to press a towel to your most serious injury before the quinjet’s emergency landing alarm starts blaring.

“Fuck!” You shout in pain and frustration. You can’t land yet, you’re still about a mile out from the safe house, but of course the machinery doesn’t give your situation much consideration. The subsequent landing is rough, jarring your battered body as the jet skids to a halt. 

You reach up blindly, fumbling for the radio, but your heart sinks when you press the button and nothing happens. There’s no static, just silence, and when you speak into it, you receive no response.

You’re exhausted, breathing hard and losing a lot of blood, and you weigh your options. One, you die here—either by bleeding out on the floor of this quinjet or freezing to death before that even happens. Two, you get to the safe house or die trying.

Well, if both options end with you dying, you might as well die fighting. You press the towel harder against your skin and haul yourself to your feet. You stumble out of the jet and into the wilderness, each step heavier than the last, leaving a spotty trail of crimson behind you in the pristine snow. 

And when the cabin is finally in your sights, your vision begins to blur. Your legs give out and you go crashing into the snow. Rolling onto your back, you lie under the watchful eye of the moon, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes as you feel your body’s warmth begin to fade. 

You hear someone calling your name, but you close your eyes and surrender to sleep’s alluring embrace. 

The world is a blur of white as he rushes out the door, not bothering to put his boots on. The frigid air bites at his lungs, the sight of you lying crumpled and fragile surrounded by splashes of crimson and pink stealing any remnants of warmth from his veins. 

“Stay there!” He shouts to Alpine, who has one paw up in the air like she’s about to go traipsing into the snow. Bucky moves before he has any more time to think, his body acting on instinct as he sweeps you up into his arms with a tenderness that belies his normally destructive hands, worry etched into his features as he carries you towards the cabin. 

Alpine trails close by at his feet as he navigates the brightly-lit interior of the safe house, the weight of your form in his arms somehow keeping the panic at bay and feeding it at the same time. The floorboards creak under his feet as he heads towards the bedroom and lowers you onto his sheets with utmost care, moving away only briefly so he can peer out the front door and into the darkness. 

He sees and hears nothing but the wind, his hand gripping the doorknob tightly before he closes the door uneasily, locking it behind him. He begins rummaging through drawers and cabinets, searching for salvation in the form of bandages, antiseptic, anything. The supplies are meagre; evidently, the safe house hasn’t seen a real emergency in quite some time, but he gathers what he can. 

Bucky feels his throat threatening to close up, his tools woefully inadequate as he lays them out methodically beside your unconscious figure. There’s barely half a bottle of disinfectant, a pack of gauze, and a barely there roll of medical tape. But they’re all he has… and Bucky Barnes is certainly no stranger to making do with much less. 

You don’t even stir as he cuts your tac-suit open and removes it completely, dumping the soiled fabric onto the floor. There are cuts all over your body with varying severity, bruises that bloom under your skin like dark flowers, and then the two packed bullet wounds and another still leaking fresh blood. 

Bucky swallows hard, glancing up at your face as his stomach twists with dread. He reaches for the antiseptic and a pair of tweezers, disinfecting his tools and then pouring some over your wound. He takes a deep breath, using his vibranium hand which remains steady as his flesh one feels shaky and weak. 

You don’t even flinch as he goes in to extract the spent round, not making a sound as he pulls the bullet free, dropping it onto the bedside table with a high-pitched clink. Not the best of signs. 

Still, Bucky works quickly, stitching up the hole with care and precision, before disinfecting it one last time and taping a square sheet of gauze on top. He repeats the process a few times for a nasty gash at the corner of your forehead and some of the deeper cuts on your arms and shoulders. 

Finally, he ties a tourniquet above the injuries in your thigh and arm just in case, replacing the gauze and repacking the wounds after cleaning them carefully. 

The entire time he works, he tries not to think about the countless times during the war when he had to do this for his fellow soldiers—some of whom, many of whom, didn’t survive. 

He tries not to think about the times that came later, in which he had to do this for himself because nobody else would. Hydra was wilfully ignorant of his pain, but no matter how convenient the serum was, it didn’t mean he was immune from suffering. 

And then he considers that you were alone out there. The last he could remember, it was against protocol for any agent, no matter their rank, to go on assignment by themselves. His inner sergeant has half a mind to cuss out whoever approved your solo mission, and he realizes the only person who could authorize something like that is Steve. 

Bucky stands, surveying his handiwork before feeling your forehead with the back of his hand. You’re burning up a little, but that’s not exactly out of the ordinary. He makes a note to check the cabin for aspirin after he calls for help. 

Bucky fetches a blanket from a nearby cupboard, unfolding it gently and draping it over your still form. He tucks it around you carefully, mindful of your injuries. Alpine hops onto the bed beside you and gets comfortable, looking up at her owner as if promising to keep an eye on you while he’s gone. 

He scratches Alpine between her ears, before leaving the room and finding the old radio in the living room that’s perched on a rickety wooden desk, littered with maps and poorly concealed mission reports. 

He fumbles for a moment, clearing his throat before securing a grip on the device and keys the microphone. 

“This—” He begins, but his voice breaks. His heart still beats frantically, worried that if he’s gone too long you might stop breathing. He pauses, trying to calm the swell of panic that rises in his chest. Bucky composes himself and starts again. 

“This is Sergeant James Barnes calling a 10-33. Needing immediate rescue and evac; we’ve got an agent down. I repeat, Agent 19 is down.”  

The line buzzes, the faint echo of his words hanging in the air before a familiar voice cuts through. “10-4, this is Captain Steve Rogers. What happened?” 

“Multiple GSW’s and contusions. She’s alive, but she’s lost a lot of blood and she’s burning up. I’ve done what I can, but she needs better care than I can provide here.” Bucky rattles off the words with the practiced ease of an experienced soldier, but his voice is heavy with a gravity he can’t conceal. 

“Damn it,” Steve curses, and Bucky notes that his friend sounds rattled—and pissed. “Listen, a storm’s coming your way and it’s rolling in fast. Might complicate things for an extraction.” 

“Why the hell is she alone, Steve?” Bucky asks, his mind racing with calculations of added time and distance. It could mean life or death for you. He glances out a nearby window; the snow is really starting to come down, whipped into a spiralling frenzy by the howling wind. 

“You think I wanted to break protocol?” Steve practically barks, the anger in his voice unfamiliar, maybe even a little strange. The Captain’s always been known for having his shit together, always the picture of calm and cool in the face of chaos. “You know how stubborn she is; she wouldn’t take no for an answer. And when I threatened to bench her, she threatened to go fucking rogue.” 

Bucky doesn’t flinch at Steve’s rare use of profanity. Instead, he just sighs. He knows that you know better than this, but you’ve been made reckless by your pain, haunted by your past and trying to outrun the shadows that still loom like giants. 

He’s been there, so for now, he has nothing else to say.

“Just get here as fast as you can, please? And bring more supplies for me. The last guy didn’t bother restocking before he left.” 

“Yeah. Hang tight, okay? We’re on our way.” Steve promises, and if there’s one thing his best friend never does, it’s break a promise. 

Bucky clicks off the receiver, quickly returning to the bedroom. He begins to light a fire in the stone hearth on the opposite side of the room, but its warmth is not quite as reassuring as it normally is. When he’s finished, he turns back towards you, watching as the fire’s light casts dancing shadows over your face. 

Your eyelids twitch but remain closed in a fitful sleep, and he reaches out a hand to brush back a lock of hair that’s stuck to your damp forehead. His touch lingers, unable or unwilling to pull away from your warmth, a subtle reminder that you’re still alive. 

The last time he saw you was back in New York. You were both going through your own turmoils, the threads of an already precarious friendship fraying under the combined strains of your pasts. 

He hadn’t known you before the Hydra Uprising, but Natasha and Steve often said you weren’t the same afterwards. He knew about your circumstances, about the betrayal you suffered at the hands of your late partner. There were so many times Bucky couldn’t bring himself to look directly at you, your grief so palpable and loud, even though you rarely ever said a word. 

The last time he heard your voice was so long ago. Since his reassignment, he hadn’t received any correspondence from you—not one phone call, email, or single text. Bucky’s sure he deserves it though. After all, he could have handled the matter of his reassignment with a little more delicacy, perhaps should have told you in-person before the news reached you by rumour mill instead of his own god damn mouth. 

Bucky has a lot of regrets, but that’s a big one. He deserved a tongue-lashing at the very least, but all you did was look at him as he confirmed the news with an uncomfortable silence. You said nothing, but your eyes belied a disappointment that cut him deep. He remembers looking away, as he had always done, unable to confront all the unspoken sadness in your eyes. 

There had been a kind of camaraderie between you once, and you deserved so much more than he was able to give at the time. The both of you were lost, sentenced to a life of permanent sorrow—it was a wonder that friendship ever even made it to the table.

Underneath all that, there was an uncomfortable truth that went unacknowledged, an attraction that went beyond just physical. Neither of you were willing to go there, however. You lost faith in everything and everyone except Steve and Natasha. Bucky was still in a dark place, still trying to crawl out from a hideous past and atone for sins that weren’t really his.

But in another life, Bucky would have been there for you as your life fell to pieces, would have killed your damn partner himself, would have told you that you had more to offer than just being a SHIELD agent. 

In another life, Bucky would have given you everything. Instead, he is left to wonder what might have been. 

Exhaustion creeps up on him as he sits on the floor next to the bed, leaning against the side of the mattress and resting his head on an empty spot next to Alpine. He refrains from the desire to reach out and hold your hand, anything to anchor him firmly to this reality where you’re still breathing.

“Can you hear me?” He asks, fighting back a wave of emotion as he suddenly realizes he might lose you tonight. Only time will tell. His eyelids begin to droop despite the vigil he desperately wants to keep. “You’ve gotta stay with me, alright?” 

Please. What will I do if you go?

He doesn’t get a response from you, only the reassuring sight of your chest rising and falling with each breath. Alpine lounges on the bed, guarded and attentive, her tail flicking back and forth as the hours slip by unnoticed. 

Bucky finally closes his eyes, the cabin a steadfast sanctuary against the raging storm outside.

« Chapter 1 || Chapter 3 »

Taglist — @cjand10 @pbs-theundeadmaggot Please leave a comment or send me a DM if you’d like to be added to the taglist for this story. Note that if you ask and you are a blank blog, I will block you instead.

Notes — Stay tuned for chapter three! I’m thinking this series might be a little longer than the originally planned five chapters, but we’ll have to see. I really don’t want to drag it out too much.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x you #summer’s fics

[kaelidascope]

Dude, I love this fanfic so much! I just wanted to ask where you got the idea from. Did you have any inspiration from anyone? Also, what's your favorite fanfic? And want do you recommend ?

AWE bless!! Thank you so much I'm glad you're enjoying it <33

So actually a good 80% of this is written from personal experience LOL I used to dance and was into drift building/racing in my late teens/early twenties! Most of the references or scenes in Midnight Menagerie are references to things I've seen or done in real life, OR stories friends have told me within the same field. (Nora is literally just a rebranding of this one mutual friend we had who just. Absolutely fucking unhinged) Like for example, the anticipated Hangover Chapter is just a retelling of an insane Summer weekend I had in 2017 ☠️ it's a personal delight being able to translate things into the narrative, even more so knowing people find my stupid, terrible decisions as amusing as I do in current times lol

My general rule of thumb is to write from experience. Things I understand either on a technical point or emotional connection. So, if you've read it in my work, it's probably something I've done LOL

Another reason I find drive in writing this type of narrative is that MM!Blake's type of dissociative PTSD is something I haven't seen much in media in general. I've seen people depict her in various ways (some of them good!), but none of them ever really apply directly to me, so I wanted to make something that I could relate to and how to properly navigate life, given the environmental circumstances. Plus some us need better examples on how to juggle mental illness as adults and also be in healthy long term relationships because damn I have zero reference LOL

For the fic recs, oh boy I have so many LOL time to be a pathetic fangirl on main but okay here's the ones that immediately jump to mind (also heads up most of these are mature or explicit rating);

Certified Kaeli Fresh Fics

Let You See My Wilder Side (If I Can See Your Bones)

We all know this one but it is, hands down, my favorite piece of literature of all time. Masterfully crafted and a timeless classic worth several rereads (and I have. Embarrassingly so)

Written by @/lucytara on tumblr || @/explosive_sky on twitter

honestly all her works are immaculate and beyond compare. Also a major fan of I Have A Bullet With Your Mouth On It (That was first RWBY fanfic I ever read LMAO a friend recommended it to me before I even watched the show) I aspire to write like her some day. It's what got me writing fanfiction in the first place. So, credit goes to Erin for inspiring me to post my manuscripts at all. Words cannot express my gratitude and appreciation. I have two book series in the process of being published now and I wouldn't have had the nerve to do it had it not been for this specific fic.

2. One Day At A Time

Also one of the earlier fics I read before getting into the show LOL I love all of @/Frenchsoda 's work, the full list is also worth checking out. I'm a fan of disgruntled Blake who doesn't understand her attraction to Yang but it's so god damn sweet ugh

3. Fucking In Love

Written by @/Set_WingedWarrior and @/Softlight

This one circulates a lot in my social circles. Everyone I know LOVES this one and after reading it earlier this year, now I see why. As someone who worked in the sex industry for a brief period of time, this one's not only accurate but also A DELIGHT to read. The premise is fun, captivating, and worth the wait. I actually discovered a chapter update earlier this year and sent the gc into hysterics because we thought the fic was dead LMAO props to these authors!! They're doing an amazing job and deserve praise

4. You're A Mountain, Full Of Glory

written by champion author @/lescousinsdangereux

I should just preface already that every book Blake reads in MM is a fanfiction that exists because I love Easter eggs. Everyone knows I had Blake reference this in chapter 3 LOL but it's equally as immaculate as Erin's work. I LOVED especially the dynamic between Weiss, Yang, and Ruby in this one. Baby, we're complicated fucking murdered me ���� also that fuckass Christmas scene, that's my favorite Christmas song LMAO

5. The Home Inside Your Head

Written by the ever skilled @/writeriguess . I found this fic by accident by seeing fanart for it floating around on this site. Got curious, picked at it, and. Oh, my god. It's not very often my brain gets scratched in the right way, but boy this one does it. This author does something specifically unique I haven't seen many do before, and I applaud them for it. There's great detail on the scenes that matter, and the fucking organic build up between Blake and Yang is just. God. Chef's kiss. Truly. It feels so god damn natural and healthy and it's already crossing off several of my agendas already. Give this one a read and give the author some love. SENSUAL FACE TOUCHING? CHAPTER 13????? BOOOOOOOYYYYYYY I'm normal about it

6. You'd Be Paranoid Too (If Everyone Was Out To Get You)

Written by @/WabaJaba_ on twitter

Okay so this one's completely different than what I've previously listed but HOLY FUCKING SHIT IS IT A THRILLER. It doesn't nearly have the amount of love and attention it truly deserves. A friend of mine recommended it to me because it shook them so fucking hard they were in total brainrot hell for a MONTH. NOW I UNDERSTAND WHY LMAO God I was obsessed with this for weeks myself. It obviously lives up to it's rating, horror fics aren't for everyone. But if you're able to read it, good lord you should. It's chilling, captivating, and had me on the edge of my fucking seat the entire time. Both endings are good, I still can't decide which one I prefer but RAH I will make sure this is seen god dammit

and last but certainly not least

7. You And Me and This Temptation

written by talented author @/ProfessorSpork

Okay this one was an accidental find as well. A friend sent it to me because THEY found it by accident, I clicked on it for later, went looking for a completely different fic that I mistook for this one, started skimming and realized 'wait a minute LMAO I don't recognize this'. But the thing you have to understand is I hate reading. I'm not a reader, I'm picky and it needs to be worth sitting down for long periods of time. This is one of the rare instances where I was so captivated by it I kept reading more and more from the middle where I landed, and eventually just said ykw let me just start from the beginning cus LMAO context.

This one is, by far, one the healthiest and loveliest depictions of first times I have ever seen. This shit was so inspiring to me that it literally kickstarted an essay in someone's DMs why depictions like this are so important. I didn't have this experience irl, and why MM is written the way it is is because its meant to serve as a lighthouse for those who, like me, haven't. This fic however I feel like should be a required read for anyone getting into relationships for the first time because if it's not like how these two interact, LEAVE IT. This is the standard. This is amazingly written, it's the closest I've ever seen canon Yang and Blake be written to date. The fucking souvenir bit 😭 NJKFGNFJKGNGJ killed me, I was kicking my feet laughing for a good minute. This is the kind of standard everyone should look at and go 'yeah, I want what they have' BECAUSE IT'S CORRECT. LOUD CORRECT BUZZER NOISES

Honestly everything in my bookmarks is certified Kaeli Fresh but these 7 are my top faves. They're probably also really commonly known I'm sure but LMAO like I said I don't read much 😭 which is heavily ironic considering I write myself. Anyway this ended up way longer than I intended but LOL <3 <3 go give these incredible authors love!!

#midnightbeesfic #rwby #bumbleby #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #Boy this turned into a massive ramble #I'd directly tag the authors but I'm shy as fuck sorry LMAO #I hope Midnight Menagerie and my other works offer a fraction of respect to the works these authors have produced #Certified Kaeli Fresh works

[sotwk]

Hi, I was just wondering if you have any thoughts on Oropher’s wife/Thranduil’s mum? Is she dead? If so, how did she die? If she’s alive, is she still in the Greenwood or is she kicking about elsewhere? I have my own half-baked ideas but I wondered what yours were

Oooh thank you for asking for my thoughts on this! I got thoughts on everything, like a good Thranduil-obssessor. *pulls out my Notes folder* This dear, sweet lady never gets any attention, but she is certainly not forgotten by me!

I mentioned Thranduil's mother in this headcanon post about his birth, as well as my one-shot fic The Crown, but I am happy to provide more info below!

Thranduil's Mother in the SotWK AU

Oropher's wife was Lady Meluiel of Doriath, a Sinda from the same clan of Teleri that migrated into Beleriand, following Elu Thingol.

Apart from being Thranduil’s mother, she was also the younger sister of the great Beleg Cúthalion, which made Beleg Thranduil's uncle and mentor. (more HC info on their relationship here)

Meluiel was a trusted handmaiden to Queen Melian, and for a time also helped raise Lúthien Tinúviel during her childhood.

She was known for her sweet and cheerful disposition, contrasting with Oropher's more somber personality, but Oropher loved her so very deeply.

Thranduil was a bit of a rebellious child, with a wilder spirit than Lord Oropher would have preferred, so it was not uncommon for Meluiel to have to play mediator between father and son.

She would often encourage Thranduil to pursue the interests Oropher disliked, and behave according to his true self, rather than adjust his personality to please his father. Thranduil took this to heart and developed a fierce independence from his father (and his like-minded kinsmen) early on.

Sadly, Meluiel was among the many Elves of Doriath who perished in the Second Kinslaying. At the time, she was a lady in Queen Nimloth's court and was with her at the time of the attack. Meluiel was slain in a final stand trying to protect the young princes, Eluréd and Elurín.

For this reason, Oropher developed an unforgiving prejudice and hatred for the Noldor, which he carried with him for the rest of his life. This is also why he fought against Thranduil's love for Maereth (of direct Fëanorian descent--the horror!) for centuries before he finally (and reluctantly) consented to their union.

Thranduil was only 54 years old when his mother died; enough to have memories of her and to miss her terribly. As a result, he too was angry at the Noldor, and remained biased against them.

However, his bias was not strong enough to prevent him from fighting alongside Noldorin warriors during the War of Wrath. During this war, Thranduil befriended a few Noldor, some of whom he continued to associate with in the Second Age while he lived in Lindon. The most notable of these friends is Ivenil (a SotWK OC, appears in "Greenleaf's Day Out"), who followed Thranduil and his Sindarin kin to Greenwood. He eventually became an important member of King Thranduil's council.

Thranduil's openness of mind and ability to see past his own hate and prejudices in effect made him a stronger ruler than his father, since it allowed him to foster relationships with the other Elf-lords and peoples of Middle-earth--even the Dwarves!

His beloved mother would have been proud. <3

For more Thranduil/Mirkwood headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Elves HC Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @freshalmondpandadonut @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @glassgulls @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @LiliDurin @quickslvxrr @ratsys @scyllas-revenge @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell

Other useful links:

Introduction to SotWK

Fanfiction Masterlist

Fanfiction Request Guidelines

#sotwk answers #sotwk headcanon #the hobbit #thranduil #tolkien #lotr #thranduil headcanon #oropher #mirkwood #greenwood the great #doriath

[fightabear]

okay here's a backstory dump for this fatui!kaveh... fucked up au idea. i've got like... an animatic planned because i'm in desperate need of refreshing those skills, but there won't be like a linear ongoing comic like my other projects.

'potentially a fanfiction? maybe? but 'potentially a fanfiction? maybe? but there will probably be like. drawings of key moments.

TL;DR

everything is the same up until the night they meet at the bar, kaveh does not go with alhaitham. either alhaitham bungles the proposal, or kaveh is simply too proud to accept the help being offered and views it as an admission that he should be living selfishly.

instead, after a dream conversation with nahida, he becomes involved in the very early stages of planning for the sabzeruz festival.... and is killed, both as a warning to alhaitham to learn his place, and as a lesson to those of sumeru who wish to worship lesser lord kusanali so openly.

ill dottore revives him as part of his experiments with the akasha terminals. this is a success, and kaveh retains little to no memory of his life in sumeru. he is given a new name and a new purpose - yahya of the fatui, sworn to serve the tsaritsa and her goals. he re-enters the story at the same point, after the crisis in sumeru has ended. he remains behind as the eyes and ears of the doctor and one of the only holders of a functioning akasha terminal.

LONG VERSION OF HISTORY AND BACKSTORY:

that night at the bar, at his very lowest, kaveh refuses the invitation to stay in alhaitham's home. it feels too much like giving up. too much like accepting that he was wrong, that his beliefs are wrong - not the way he went about enacting them. to accept the invitation feels like co-signing onto alhaitham's view of the world as he understands it, and that is so grim and bleak he declares he would rather die than live in a world where people live only for themselves.

he has no idea how prophetic the words are to be.

that night, camping in the wilderness, lesser lord kusanali meets kaveh in his dreams. he does not recall most of the dream, only that she is a warm and comforting presence. everything he believes knowledge should be. a light in the dark, the tools to give the suffering some sense of peace. the people of sumeru are lost, he declares, and the akasha terminals have ruined their capacity to think for themselves. to see the world beyond puzzles that must be solved, and people are hurdles rather than assets.

and when he wakes, he no longer feels as aimless. there is a path forward that he sees all too clearly, and all he grown tired of in sumeru is the akademiya and it's overreach.

the efforts to revive the sabzeruz festival gain much more traction when the light of kshahrewar himself joins in. the actual festival is months away, but the fact that it being planned - that a famous scholar has joined in on the efforts - immediately gets traction.

people who hadn't previously seen kaveh's vision now see it at his hip, and rumors start to spread. he has been chosen by lesser lord kusanali to bring them into a new age of wisdom. kaveh had never minded the whispers of others much, as the only expectations he had ever worried about failing were his own and his client's - but if he'd heeded those warnings, he may have been better prepared for what happened.

when word came from the akademiya that his proposal had been approved, he has confused. what proposal? he had been funding this work on his own and with the aid of the desert folk - who were more eager to assist an endeavor for kusanali if her people were kinder than that of rukkadevata. still, he goes to the meeting place that the head of his darshan asks. they have a pleasant dinner, a few drinks - the taste of which is off - and kaveh grows concerned that questions about his supposed proposal are dodged.

they walk the docks of port ormos afterwards, though kaveh insists that he is not feeling well after that meal and wants to go home. thjat kind nature is taken advantage of, as the man says he wishes to discuss something important. he has been carrying a heavy weight and wishes to share it.

they stop short and stare at the water, and the man laments that kaveh has thrown away a bright future in pursuit of fruitless dreams. he was always a dreamer, that's what made his work stand out, but he does not care for or respect the spirit of knowledge. it brings him no joy to do this to the most promising alumni in centuries.

what he says is truly upsetting is that in the end, kaveh hadn't even earned this through his own merits. it had been his friendship with the scribe that sealed his fate. he would be a message to all.

there's no room for elaboration. kaveh can't even process what he's being told, uncertain if alhaitham ordered this or - if this is meant ot harm him.

regardless, there in the docks on a dark summer night, kaveh meets his end.

he flings mehrak as far from himself as he can once it takes too much damage to pull his sword free. they deliver death unto him brutally, and staged to look like angry debt collectors. and as he lay dying, the doctor steps from the shadows and asks if they have any further use for him once the message has been sent.

he's found in the morning, laying haphazardly on the shores. a dumped body that resurfaced. those lovely hands smashed and broken.

the details of the architect's ruined financials filter out, that he was less a light and more a bringer of ruin. it looks cut and dry. a debt collector had come to collect.

rumors of non-existent fundraisers slip into the conversation, leaving people to assume him nothing more than a charlatan and a fraud. destroying the budding reputation that the festival had.

before an autopsy can be performed, the body goes missing. those dedicated to recreating the sabzeru festival do not give up, and they are determined to see it through. not believing for a second that kaveh was taking them for a ride, and determined to not let his death be in vain.

elsewhere, the doctor carries on with his work.

a broken bird of paradise awakens in his laboratory. the glittering green vision resting atop his chest no longer gives off a glow, but the light at his temple does. this akashic terminal glows with the blue of cryo. all the information that could possibly exist within it has been downloaded into his mind, most of it partitioned away so it doe snot overwhelm him. this process, and the modifications to the terminal itself, makes up for the parts of his brain too damaged to continue to function on their own. the terminal regulates the processes his body should know how to do, allowing him to breathe, his heart to beat, his body to move when he wants it.

the drug slipped into his drink done a decent job of keeping him in a death-like state without actually crossing that threshold into death, but the damage was extensive. recovery, too, would be a nightmare. impossible were it not for this little gift.

when the bird is finally well enough to take wing, Il Dottore bestows upon it a new name, yahya and the codename uccello del paradiso. and with this name, a new mission - to serve the tsaritsa and burn away the world.

yahya does not know what happened to him, only that the cruelty of the existing world is what caused his suffering. he knows that he would have died, were it not for Il Dottore intervention. he is grateful to have been saved, though he remembers so little about his life before he feels he may as well be a new being.

his hands are strong enough to hold a sword, but the fine motor control necessary to write or paint has been lost due to a mixture of the damage to his mind and hands. he is still deceptively strong despite that willowy frame. even more so than before, as the modifications to his body and brain allow him to use more strength than what a normal person should be capable of without harming themselves.

his mind is sharp as ever, and the modifications to the akashic terminal allow him to more directly interface with ancient technology. most of his work has been in the investigation of king deshret's ruins and the so-called 'forbidden knowledge'.

he is most often seen in a modified version of a fatui agent's outfit, though the colors mirror that of ill dottore's harbinger uniform. he is also most often seen with a mask, meant to cover up the altered color of his akashic terminal and to hide his face from any who would recognize it in these lands. though there is light scarring across his face, he still looks like himself... though his eyes have changed. they're flat and lifeless.

the most concerning feature of his new existence is that at any point, his eyes can be looked through. his ears lsistened through. his voice used to say another's words. his autonomy hijacked and used used for the fatui's goal's. and he won't remember anything about it.

i'm still working out where this goes from here.

alhaitham and fatui!kaveh (yahya from here on out) have some encounters where they come to blows. yahya just seems to have it out for him and alhaitham has no earthly idea who this could be, but he pisses so many people off in the run of a day he doesn't pay much mind to it.

alhaitham definitely gets mehrak working in the aftermath of everything and hears the conversation with the doctor because mehrak recorded it, so he knows that the man has kaveh's body. but he assumes its just the body and he's disgusted at the idea that kaveh's corpse is being used for cruel experiments, and he just wants to get it back to give kaveh peace.

it isn't until he speaks with wanderer that he finds out that the experiments were a success and kaveh is alive.

WHAT IS FATUI!KAVEH LIKE?

yahya is still kind at heart, though no longer the sort of person who burns himself alive just to warm others for a second. he is still compassionate to the deserving, but far more willing to lash out at those who throw their weight around to punish the unworthy. in many ways, he is the version of himself alhaitham wanted him to be. he priortizes himself and his safety above all others, though that leaves a coldness to him that is difficult to ignore and hard to witness to those who knew him before.

he is far more quick to violence. pacifism obviously did him no good in the past. and what good is doing good if the evil are still there to reap it's benefits? there is a greedier, hungier edge to him - all to fill the void of loneliness and grief for a life that was robbed of him. yahya can't remember anything about who or what he was. he was told that he was killed for debts owed, and that he should blame the gods for it. as if the god he so loved had helped him, this could have been avoided. thanks to the modifications to the akasha terminal keeping him alive, nahida can't even enter his mind to set the record straight.

he can't pursue the softer things that brought him joy due to the damage he sustained before his death and revival. he collects mora as some holdover of the stress he used to have around it, though he has little to spend it on. nothing really sparks that joy and passion beyond the idea of creating, and he finds his new limitations too frustrating to deal with to pursue that.

while he is far from hostile to most people, he holds little love for sumeru. what he can recall - the phantoms of memories, nothing concrete - does not speak of a life filled with joy. but of loneliness, abandonment, and an untimely end at the hands of people he had trusted. he doesn't think he was much mourned, and doesn't realize that his death set both alhaitham and cyno on a path that ultimately lead to the changes in sumeru he had long desired.

DOES FATUI!KAVEH HAVE A VISION?

sort of. his vision expended most of its power keeping him alive, and is still kind of doing that. he wears it around his neck now, but it looks like the dead visions that we saw during the vision decree. it does start to glow when he starts to remember who he was and the convictions he used to hold.

DOES FATUI!KAVEH HAS A DELUSION?

yes! and he can use one without the negative effects because he's already basically dead. i'm torn as to whether i want it to be pyro or hydro.

WILL HE AND ALHAITHAM KISS?

probably yes.

the core idea here is that alhaitham always fucking knew that kaveh was going to give too much and get himself killed, and alhaitham is grappling with guilt.

kaveh is also feeling a lot of guilt, though he can never place the emotion or figure out why. the fight in the akademiya and the conversation at the bar are recurring moments for both of them.

but the tl;dr is that kaveh eventually realizes that despite how much of a dick he can be, alhaitham wasn't telling him not to ever help people. because alhaitham himself does help people when he can spare the bandwidth, he just... believes people need to also be willing to stand up and help him help them. and that he has to care for himself first so he's not dragged down and drowned.

he was trying to tell kaveh that he needs to take care of himself too. and that he can't drive himself into the ground over the guilt he feels for his father's death. because that wasn't his fault. that was kaveh trying to take responsibility for a situation he didn't create, which is ultimately what he does every time he rushes to save someone. he's trying to take control of an uncontrollable universe, to give all people an equal footing in the world without noticing that he himself is falling off the fucking cliff.

so yes there is probably a big climactic speech and then kaveh's vision flares back to life because he remembers why he lived the live the way he did and all the good he got out of it. and how inspiring it was. and how even if he mcfuckingdied, so many people cared enough to get justice for him. his actions had impact, had weight, and the ripples they caused made sumeru better for everyone.

and then the kiss.

#genshin impact #alternate universe: go tonight #alhaitham #kaveh #kavetham #haikaveh #genshin #genshin au

[angelbroad]

"You lost it. Well, we lost it."

Type: Fanfiction

Fandom: Mortal Kombat

Characters: Kuai Liang, Hanzo Hasashi

Kuai Liang stared at nothing as he sat on the porch of the Shirai Ryu compound. He closed his eyes and looked down with a sigh, his mind an unorganised mess.

 He missed his brother, he truly did, and he could not understand where it all went wrong between them. He covered part of his face with one hand, his brow furrowing as he tried to force his head in a space where it would not refuse to tell him why things were the way they were. How they ended up like this. Sometimes he found himself prone to the very same anger he was trying to teach young Raiden to control. 

 The man’s mind continued to try and dwell on those thoughts, trying to breach that barrier of unwanted memories and what he knew was the truth. He was so distracted by his mind swimming in circles, that he failed to notice the heavy footsteps behind him. He only broke out of his unpleasant trance once the man behind him addressed him.

 “Kuai Liang.”

 The man in question violently flinched as he heard his name being called, his quickened breathing calming down once he turned around to see it was only Hasashi. He exhaled heavily and turned back to continue looking at the wall.

 “Hanzo Hasashi.”, he addressed back, hearing the man’s armor clinking behind him.

 “You look unwell.”, Hanzo observed, moving to stand next to Kuai Liang on the porch’s stairs.

 “What I’m thinking is not your business, Hasashi.”

 The man above chuckled behind his mask, “You lost it. Well, we lost it.”, he said, Kuai Liang craning his neck to look up at the much taller figure. 

 Hanzo sat down next to him, Kuai Liang worried for a second that the weight of his armor would break the wooden steps, but it didn’t.

 “What do you even mean by that?”

 “You do realise that bottling up your feelings will eventually come back to haunt you, correct?”

 Kuai Liang scoffed, “Says you.”

 “Maybe so, but I know when to let it out sometimes. You helped me reunite with someone I thought I had lost forever, so know that I am not trying to antagonise you. I am eternally gratefull, Kuai Liang.”

 Kuai Liang side-eyed the man, turning his gaze back on the wall quickly as his face felt warmer.

 “Okay then, what do you do to let it out? I know you don’t talk to anyone, I’ve seen it with Harumi.”

 Hanzo trembled slightly at the name drop, but quickly stopped and got up.

 “If you want to know, follow me.”, he said before striding off, Kuai Liang getting up to follow out of instinct.

 The two walked away from the compound and into the wilderness surrounding them. 

 “When Kakkō first brought me here, I decided to explore the area. Learn from my past mistakes.”

 “What mistakes exactly, Hasashi?”

 “Kuai Liang, there is no need for formalities. Hanzo is fine.”

 Kuai Liang nodded, clearly intending to continue calling him by his last name. They eventually reached a cliff past the woods, the stars and moon of the sky embracing the nature around them in a silver-lit hug. Hanzo stopped when he was a few feet away from the edge, which did not exactly ease Kuai Liang’s worry.

 “Why are we here?”, he asked.

 “You want to let it out?”, he asked, to which Kuai Liang cautiously nodded.

 Hanzo gestured him to come closer, and Kuai Liang hesitantly moved to stand next to him. Hanzo took off his mask, revealing his scarred face, and looked at Kuai Liang.

 “We let it out, then.”

 Birds flew away, jolted awake by the sounds of screaming in the quiet woods. The earth felt like it shook underneath their feet, and it did not stop until the men’s throats ran dry.

 Kuai Liang collapsed backwards on the forest floor, trying to steady his breathing from all the yelling. Hanzo did the same a few moments later, falling heavily next to him. Kuai Liang tried to force some moisture back in his throat. He looked at Hanzo.

 “That was so stupid.”, he said.

 “But do you feel better?”, Hanzo asked.

 “....Yes.”

 “Then it worked. You’re welcome.”

 Kuai Liang laughed, relaxing his head and looked up at the sky again. The two stayed silent for a while, enjoying each other’s company on the cold forest floor, made warmer only by their natural warmth as pyromancers.

 “Do you want to go back?”, Hanzo asked.

 “...I don’t think I want to.”

 “That is okay. We can stay out here a little longer.”

 And they did. Staring into the night sky until their flames calmed down and their eyes felt dry.

#fictober23 #mk1 #mortal kombat #hanzo hasashi #kuai liang #kuanzo #subscorp

[rhosmeinir]

Fictober 2023 #4

Prompt #4 - "Do you even know what this means?"

Fanfiction: Good Omens/The Sandman

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Pairing: Ineffable Husbands/Aziracrow

Other Notes: In which Dream pays Crowley a visit one night. 915 words!

It was a picturesque scene. In the garden of a small cottage, fragrant with fruit-tree flowers and bursting with the colors of their wilder cousins, Crowley and Aziraphale sat at a sturdy, weathered oak table; the kind of table that held as many stories as it had rings, and could bear up under as many plates of cake and dishes of pudding as one could load it with. They were laughing together, Aziraphale chucking behind his serviette so as not to spew crumbs, and Crowley guffawing at his own wit. His eyes were golden-brown and unshaded, and met the tinkling blue of Aziraphale’s without any worry that someone might interrupt them. The weather was perfect: warm and fine, with enough of a soft breeze to stir their many plants gently now and then. A ginger cat was curled up in a vacant chair at the table, but now it yawned, stretched, and leaped lightly into Crowley’s lap. He dropped his hand to stroke the cat, which made its biscuits against his leg as he watched Aziraphale select one from the plate in front of him, and sighed with content.

“Leave me alone, Dream.”

The Crowley standing outside the garden watching the pastoral events within unfold muttered darkly. Next to him, the tall, slight figure all cloaked in black, who had just silently appeared, looked at him mildly.

“This again, Crowley?”

“I said, leave. me. alone.” But Crowley was familiar enough with Morpheus’s silences to know that the Endless wouldn’t vanish just because he said so. He inhaled exasperatedly. “Yes, this again. What, are my dreams not creative enough for you? Not enough variety? Why don’t you go visit Muriel, I’m sure there’s plenty of nonsense there to entertain you.” The faintest of laugh-like sounds escaped Morpheus through his nose, and he shook his head.

“No. Muriel has no need to me tonight.”

“Oh, and I do?”

“Yes.”

Crowley turned away from Morpheus, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. His shoulders hunched of their own accord, and he bit the inside of his cheek hard. I don’t need you you stupid daydream idiot- was the beginning of the stream of profane thought that churned inside Crowley’s mind, but he kept it behind his lips. He did not want to rage. He did not want to fight. And Dream was not stupid. All he wanted was—

“What about this idea occupies you so, angel?”

Like a spooked animal, Crowley jerked around. His face impassive as ever, Morpheus was still watching the scene in the garden. The cat had gone to sleep, and another biscuit had disappeared from the plate.

“Don’t call me that,” Crowley snarled, his fists balling up inside their pockets, “I am not an angel.”

“You were when we met.”

“That was a long time ago, Dream. A lot’s happened since then.” For the first time, Morpheus turned his head to look at Crowley, and meet his eyes.

“I don’t think you ever stopped, really.”

Crowley glowered, but held his counterpart’s void-like gaze. The flickering lights within it reminded him of the stars. They stood like that for a long time, until at last Crowley asked,

“You know what happened to Aziraphale?”

It wasn’t really a question, but Morpheus nodded anyway. Crowley turned to look back at the garden, and its blissfully unaware occupants. It was shortly after Aziraphale had returned to Heaven that Morpheus had begun to appear in his dreams. Not every night, and not every dream, but despite the two beings having known each other since Morpheus had emerged in the Universe, he had never visited Crowley so often before. He was too subtle for it to be a coincidence.

“Well,” Crowley returned uncomfortably to Morpheus’s question, “when I think about what might’ve happened if he hadn’t— if it hadn’t all gone wrong— when I think about what could be, if he came back— …this is what I dream.”

Morpheus was silent again, and this time, it did provoke Crowley.

“Do you even know what this means?!” He burst out, gesturing wildly with an arm at the garden, the cottage, and the cat. The uninterrupted idyll was punctuated by another chorus of laughter from below, followed by the indistinguishable conversation of two voices. “’Course you do,” Crowley subsided, pushing his hands back into his pockets with a slump, “you’ve been around long enough.”

“I have.” Morpheus replied. “I understand.”

Crowley glanced sideways at his companion.

“Yeah, I s’pose you do.”

Silence stretched out again, as they watched the garden together. The wind stirred hair scarlet and black, birds sang, and now and then Morpheus brushed away a fuzzy bee that had become too interested in him. Neither paid any attention to the passage of time, but time did pass in the dream. The air took on a slight chill as the sun began to go down, and below in the garden a lamp was lit, bathing the table in its warmth and light. Glasses were raised, and the ting of glass on glass was unnaturally loud in the twilight. When Crowley spoke, his voice was cracked, and his question encompassed all the questions he yearned to ask, and contained all the multitudes of his joy, pain, and every defiant feeling he had ever felt in the existence he had shared with his lost angel.

“Why?”

Dream of the Endless raised one hand, and laid it on Crowley’s shoulder with the sort of firm, gentle kindness that requires no explanation, and answered.

“Love.”

#fictober23 #fictober #good omens #the sandman #dream of the endless #crowley #ineffable husbands #crowley centric #crossover #gomens #morpheus

[18caramel]

Lust

Sodapop Curtis x f!OC

Warnings: smut Word count: 1.8k

A/N: what you are about to read is a part of my fanfiction on AO3 called "Bad Influence”. If you are interested in it, you can find me by my username @18caramel, or by clicking on the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53118478/chapters/134401192

pictures taken from Pinterest :)

It was dark in the bedroom. Dusty curtains blocked all the lights, and they decided to keep it that way. Natalie couldn't dare to light up the candle she spotted on the nightstand, too afraid to burn her fingers. Soda searched the kitchen for a box of matches and naturally wanted to open the cupboard, but it was locked, which raised suspicion, but then again, he wasn't the one to judge. He stole a bottle of wine, promising to himself that he'd return the favor to the owner.

When they finally lit it, the room showed its colors. Natalie lay on her stomach on the scarlet blanket, her feet swinging in the air as she read a magazine that she found under the bed. When she finally looked at him, her eyes were blazing red. The red wine that Soda brought into the bedroom blended well with the feeling he gained from seeing her white clothes contrast with the bedroom. And the intimacy of the moment that he sought for the past two years was telling him that they weren't doing anything wrong.

Soda didn't need alcohol to get drunk to enjoy it, but it seemed like she did. They stayed up another half hour finding out more about themselves, talking about school, their families, and their interests, without any physical contact.

"Have you had a girlfriend before?" Natalie asked him, still chuckling about the joke he made earlier.

"Yeah. I had a few, but I'd say I had only one real relationship." Sodapop made quotation marks with his fingers but saw that Natalie wasn't looking at his hands. She locked her eyes with his, and he sensed that she had probably drunk too much.

"Oh." She looked surprised, "Why did you break up?"

"She cheated on me," Sodapop replied without telling anything else. It seemed like it was enough. Soda looked at her, seeing the guilt drawn all across her face. Saying that Sandy got pregnant with another man would make her regret asking for anything else even more.

"I'm sorry." Natalie said, placing her hand on his thigh, "I never had a boyfriend before."

Soda didn't want to add anything to it. His heart ached just like the day he had received her letter, unopened. First love always stung, and he wondered if Sandy ever thought about him after she left. He could never find out, she never wrote back, never called.

Soda glanced at her, understanding what she meant. She never had to experience that kind of heartbreak or maybe none at all, she had both of her parents alive and a brother who looked after her. Soda's eyes faded but he tried to push the negative thoughts away. Comparing himself to her wouldn't do him any good. And what was the point? Natalie seemed to like him the way he was.

Maybe she never had a boyfriend before, but she sure made it look like a lie when she put her hand on his cheek and gently kissed him. He wasn't expecting it from her, Soda imagined that she would want him to make the first step. Alcohol probably played a big role in her confidence, but Soda didn't mind. Only maybe it was too soon.

Then he really thought she was fibbing. Her tongue ended up in Soda's mouth in a matter of seconds, and he really couldn't put his mind on how she could want them to get closer that quickly. Jealousy was building up inside of him because she did it well, and maybe her word for 'boyfriend' wasn't implying any ephemeral dates. They were sitting on the bed that whole time, Soda's right hand holding the empty glass of wine, the other sliding down her waist.

Natalie soon got wilder, sitting on Soda's lap. The glass of wine put aside, he grabbed her waist with his hands gripping her body as she held his face in hers. The temperature rose, and Soda's guilt did too - he couldn't drop the thought of it being too inopportune. Not that he didn't want it, but because he was too afraid to ruin everything. He kept telling himself that he wasn't the one to insinuate it and tried to forget Steve scolding him for going out to see her. He told him many stories, but it was usually greasers who took advantage of girls from the West, not the other way around. He wished he'd drunk a bit more wine.

He finally took a break from his thoughts when he was shirtless. It didn't bother him anymore because he liked what they were doing. Soda laid her down on the bed, his lips exploring her bare neck and collarbone. She closed her eyes. The light coming from the candle let Soda see her smiling. He felt relieved about everything. The past years were harsh, Darry working two jobs, and Ponyboy studying like never before. And Soda could finally exhale.

Natalie sat up and took off her cardigan with the shirt underneath it, letting Soda know she was serious about what was happening. Her eyes radiated lust as she watched him take a closer look at her body. It felt like she was in a rush and Soda wanted to take their time. Her unclipped bra told him that he wasn't the one who'd decide. Her words of never having a boyfriend replayed in his mind, and he desperately wanted to forget them because it made him doubt. Natalie knew what she was doing, taking full control of him.

But instead of assuming things Soda knew that he was old enough to address the issue. But he waited a bit, his hand trailing up her body and touching her breast. She didn't seem to mind it at all, she smiled through their kiss and took his other hand, placing it on the other one.

"We don't have to rush it." Soda broke the kiss. Natalie let go of him and fell on her back, her head resting against the pillow.

"But I want to." Natalie said, placing her left foot on his thigh, "Do you?"

"I want to but I don't know if you are ready for it," Soda admitted, trying not to make it sound too rough. It wasn't his intention to mock her for anything, he genuinely wanted her to feel ready. He had started to assume that maybe bringing her there was a bad idea, maybe she thought that they had to use that bed, and it's not what he wanted her to assume.

"I don't think I'm ready either." Natalie shook her head, "But I want you to please me."

Soda's widened eyes were about to fall out when he heard her say it. His heartbeat raced and he bit his bottom lip, trying not to fall for her words. He didn't know she was that confident, his first impression was that she was rather timid, but at that moment he knew that it was going to be hard for him to forget her if they'd parted separate ways.

"You're full of surprises." Soda smiled, and before she could've said anything he climbed on top of her, kissing her lips. Topless, they lay there for a few minutes, their tongues dancing around. He managed to get off his jeans, and Natalie pulled up her skirt, letting him touch her bare thighs. It's not like he's never done it before, he thought to himself, feeling his heart skip a beat when he felt the fabric of her underwear with his fingers. He didn't have a girlfriend for a long time but it never meant that he didn't have his guilty pleasures from time to time. Nobody really knew except Steve, Soda would never bring a random girl to the house, Darry would never allow it, and it could never set a good example to Ponyboy. Now it rather felt like Soda was the one that Natalie brought home, but he didn't mind. She knew what she wanted and he could easily give it to her.

When she felt Soda's finger slide in between them, she let out a moan, making Soda face her. His eyes were blazing now too. He felt her clit and took out his finger, placing it near her lips. Soda let out a small sigh when she licked it and got back to business, playing with her clit, rubbing it, and watching Natalie's face decompose with pleasure.

"Everything's okay?" Soda asked, trying to figure out if she wanted him to stop.

She nodded, smiling, "Keep going."

"Is this how you want me to please you?" Soda looked at her, his fingers traveling further down, his thumb still on her clit. Natalie kissed him, but he broke it, making her focus on the new pleasure that she was receiving.

Soda held her hand while he carefully inserted a finger, watching her eyes widen. Soda stopped for a moment, waiting for a green light. She didn't say anything, only nodded once again, catching her breath. He kissed her on the lips as he moved his finger back and forth, feeling the pain his erection was causing him since the first time they kissed.

"Get down," Natalie commanded, making Soda bite his lip. She sure did boost his confidence. He found it hot that she didn't feel ashamed of being there. He cocked an eyebrow, knowing that the next time he'd see her she would crawl back to him. Soda was sure she'd do anything to have her first time with him.

"Beg for it," Soda said as he kissed her body, inserting another finger. Natalie wasn't lying about not having a boyfriend, Soda thought, feeling the tightness of her walls, wishing his cock could have experienced it too. He licked her nipples, hearing her groan each time he'd bite them.

"Fuck," she let out a moan, gripping the bedsheets, "Soda, please, taste it."

She didn't need to say anything else because she secretly wanted it so bad that he was about to rip off her skirt and bend her over for what she had told him. But he could never let his lust hurt her, even if she wanted it.

Too bad, she'd have to wait, Soda thought, getting down. Two fingers in, the other two spreading her lips, he licked her clit, not taking his eyes or her. She was holding her breast with one hand, the other one still gripping the bed sheets. It didn't last too long, it was her first orgasm and she came as soon as Soda started to press his tongue harder and harder against her clit as he sucked it.

Her thighs tensed around Soda's head and then the pressure finally dropped. He took his wet fingers out of her, not licking them. He didn't want her to think that anything else was going to happen that night, it was more than enough.

He let her stay in bed as she tried to get back to her senses. He washed his hands and brought her a glass of water.

"How are you feeling?" Soda asked her after she thanked him.

"Great." She replied, yawning. Soda saw that she was getting sleepier, and accompanied her to the bathroom. Later, he blew off the candle, holding her body closer under the scarlet blanket.

A/N: thank u for reading! for a more in-depth story you can find it on AO3 "Bad Influence" by @18caramel, here’s the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53118478/chapters/134401192

#the outsiders #the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders fanfic #outsiders fanfiction #outsiders fanfic #sodapop curtis #sodapop x oc #smut #sodapop x reader #60s #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #the outsiders sodapop #the outsiders oneshot

[charlidos]

Hi I just wanted to say I absolutely love that you are talking about Viggo and Orlando. I just recently fell a bit into the rabbit hole because I adore Viggo and watching how him and Orlando became so close fascinates me so much. It’s crazy filling in the mysterious pieces because only 2 people really know what went on during that crazy time of their lives. I really hope you keep talking about them more because it’s such a lovely love they have for each other. Have a nice day! (:

All the years that have passed makes that rabbit hole pretty damn deep, eh? I thought I was just peeking, but I fell down and can't get out...

Well, Viggo is in his own right a deeply fascinating human, so one can dwell there for quite some time. One thing that I find particularly charming is that his creativity, his "artist-ness" doesn't seem to equal pretentiousness (although, I'm sure it can be interpreted that way). He has a very calm self-assuredness about him, which I think people around him find very reassuring. And for Orlando, it must have been such a blessing (even if, like he's said himself, he didn't fully appreciate it at the time, being so young) to have Viggo be the center of his world, those months and years in NZ, on his first big job. It's hard not to find it touching how they bonded, despite the age difference. When Orlando has mentioned this, they seem to have been talking a lot. In my mind, Orlando is like a disciple to his guru, Viggo the benevolent king of his heart.

What happened between them, on set and after is indeed shrouded in an enchanting vail of mystery. And what happened sometime after 2007? Why did they lose touch? Did Hollywood lure Orlando away? Was Viggo too difficult to pin down? Or did their paths just diverge too much?

A particularly appealing fantasy how you can imagine Viggo created some of his art and poetry with Orlando in mind. It's such a romantic notion. And those poems are quite romantic too, angsty, mysterious and beautiful. It's easy to imagine Viggo being inspired by his devoted, and oh-so pretty disciple out and about in the breathtaking wilderness of NZ.

(Took this ask and ran with it. Seems I have still more to say... I've been reading too much fanfiction. Living in pure fantasy world.)

#viggo mortensen #orlando bloom #viggorli #lord of the rings

[lola-andheruniverse]

ZA AU Tuesday - Caryl Fanfiction Rec

Dear fellow caryler, if you're a fan of 1) fast zombies, 2) lots of angst and adventure, and 3) silly fanfic tropes like "let's snuggle to warm each other and accidentally catch feelings", today's story is for you! Just Survive Somehow by @silversundown2 is posted on 9Lives and it's one hell of a ride! 😊 Summary: A weekend trip to her best friend's wedding turns into a fight for survival in the harsh Alaskan wilderness, with a man she only just met. This wasn't exactly what Carol had in mind when she thought this trip might be a way to find herself.

Rate: E / Explicit Word count: 53.045 (16 chapters) Published: January 27, 2020 - COMPLETE

In this story, a s10-ish Carol and Daryl meet and are automatically launched into an extreme situation - and no, I'm not talking about zombies, thinks get complicated even before they show up. Most ZA AUs work with younger caryl, so it's very interesting to see their mature and more confident versions working together to stay alive while falling in love. Of course that doesn't mean they don't suffer with self-doubt, but getting together is more gentle and straightforward that would be with younger versions of them. Silver is a pro creating powerful images and dialogues that feel so real you can listen to their voices in your head. So, yeah, there's no way you will be disappointed to give this story a chance. Don't forget to give your feedback, nothings makes an author happier than to know how their story impacted a reader. Caryl on, lovelies, caryl on!

#caryl #caryl fic recs #ZA AU tuesday #caryl fanfiction #caryl fandom

[triskhellion]

20 Questions for fic writers

Tagged by @dear-massacre

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Twenty-one. Twenty fics and one weird standalone soundtrack, lol.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

195,750.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Just Teen Wolf so far, but I maybe I'll get around to some ideas I have for The Sandman or something else one day.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Thunder (Sterek. 12.1k. Explicit. Depressed loner Derek meets on-the-run Werefox/Kitsune Stiles in rural Montana.)

The Cold Moon (Sterek, 40.6k. Explicit. Part one of a story where Stiles is forced across a mysterious boundary by Hunters and encounters a semi-feral Alpha Derek. My first published fic.)

Second Chance Strays (Sterek, 8.5k. Explicit. Mage Stiles, Derek, & Larem the deer alone in the wilderness. A Fuck or Die situation ensues when a darach attacks.)

CLAIM! (Sterek, 11.9k, Explicit. Misunderstandings and making up after Derek & Stiles meet at Jungle and hook-up.)

Customer Service (Sterek, 10.9k. Explicit. Surly barista omega Derek and human college student Stiles. Banter, vulgar latte art, and heat sex. Dominant Derek, Service Top Stiles.)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! Sometimes it takes a while, but comments are appreciated and I know I like getting responses.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I guess Amīca (Derissa) because it's an unresolved pre-relationship fic that's meant to be the first In a series. I've been a happy ending gal, so no real angsty ones so far. The angst is in the beginning and/or middle!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The rest of them? 😂

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't yet. Knocks on wood.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes. Most of my fics have smut at some point, lol. Or belong to series that do/will.

Um, barebacking and creampie/breeding. Cum eating or play and marking in general, including hickeys and biting.

Virgin/first time bottoming, praise kink, light degradation, and knotting are also in a number of stories. Some spanking, bondage and pinning, and generally low-key dominance and submission. Chasing and claiming and a few omegaverse or just self-lubrication. (I have plans for more.)

All M/M or M/M/M so far, but I have WIPs and notes with other combinations. I have a bunch of Kinktober bits from 2022 to turn into fics that I'm both nervous and excited about. And lots of other ideas too.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not yet, but I have a summary for a Sterek Teen Wolf/The Sandman crossover.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. Sounds both fun and kinda scary.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Sterek is what finally got me into fanfiction and the whole shipping fandom thing a few years ago, so I gotta go with them. I enjoy a bunch of others from Teen Wolf too (especially Steter, Stetopher, and Sterek + various people) and from other fandoms.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I currently intend to finish all my WIPs, but who knows what the future will hold. I have 3 posted WIPs that I definitely plan to complete: The Wolf Moon, The Depths, and 15 Shades of Red. I have dozens of unposted ones that I also hope to finish...eventually.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Apparently dialogue, world building, characters' inner thoughts, and being funny sometimes. Coming up with ideas.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Epithets. It's just tricky when the characters have the same pronouns and I hate writing their names over and over. (I don't mind when other people do it though, so 🤷🏽‍♀️. But then I'll be like, "I can't say Derek three times in this paragraph!")

I've started looking for ones to remove whenever I edit now (and I'm cringing thinking about earlier stories that I should re-edit at some point,) but I still use some and am self-conscious about it.

Also, sometimes I info dump, but that doesn't bother me so much. Boom, here's a bunch of background now let's get on with it, lol.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've used a few words in Polish here and there in some stories, but I probably wouldn't try to write whole conversations in another language unless I was familiar with it or could ask someone about it.

There's some Patois/Patwah in Irie, which was interesting to write because there's no one set spelling of many words, so it was part looking at common ones and part "What did it sound like/how was it phrased when this relative or family friend said something like this?"

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I vaguely recall thinking up scenes, dialogue, background, etc, for a story with Byakuya Kuchiki/Shūhei Hisagi from Bleach approximately 5 billion years ago when I was a teenager, but I don't remember if I ever actually wrote anything. Definitely didn't finish or publish anything. So...Teen Wolf.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Hmm. I can't say that I have a favorite. I only started actually writing from my list of fic ideas around 16 months ago, IIRC. Maybe if I look back on them all after enough time passes I'll be able to pick one out (though knowing me...still probably not,) but right now they're all just...floating around in my head and also mixed with the particular experiences of writing them, idk.

Here's a recent one that was fun to write:

Legs (Sterek, 4.3k. Explicit. Snark and smut after college students Derek and Werecreature Stiles cross paths at the mall.)

If you want to play along, tag, you're it!

#I've had this partially done for over 2.5 months lol #so I've had to make some changes a few times #Thunder juuuust edged out The Cold Moon in kudos *yesterday* #20 questions #20 questions for fic writers #trisk #sterek #derissa

[cgsf]

Men's Hockey (RPF) fanfiction recs — Patrick/Jonathan {Part 2}

••••••

"I'm beyond your peripheral vision (so you might want to turn your head)" 🔒 (E) by anonymous | 3,418 | It takes the combination of prospect camp, training camp, and their first week on the road together for Johnny to realize Patrick is his soulmate. The first person he calls is Dan.

"red lips, so kissable" 🔒 (E) by anonymous | 3,569 | When Pat had finally come to him with this after six months of dating without things imploding, he'd been hesitant. "I just.... I think about making myself pretty sometimes," he had said, blushing. "Like a girl."

"crash into me" (E) by fadeastride | 3,403 | And that’s not some chick. That’s fucking Pat.

"Make The Moves Up As I Go" 🔒 (E) by agirlnamedfia | 30,354 | Patrick has his first Econ 202 class on the second day of the spring semester. It doesn’t exactly go well.

"Sommeil" (M) by MJBadger | 1,622 | Jonny being weird about public bathrooms and lots of sleepiness.

"let it all unfurl" 🔒 (M) by poeelektra | 2,545 | "Brooklyn is not Bumfuck, Tazer. And, you know, irony noted, seeing as you're from Winnipeg." "Whatever," Jon says darkly, punching fists into his jacket pockets like there’s some satisfaction to be had in stressing the seams of their linings. He doesn't care where Brooklyn is—if it belongs to this city, he's already made up his mind about it. "You're paying for the cab ride. There and back." Sharpy just laughs like Jon has told a good joke. "Sure thing, Tazer."

"and it's over, and i'm goin' under" (E) by mockturtletale | 15,011 | And that’s the story of how Kaner finds himself slumping down to the floor against his best friend’s front door, shaking a little and half covered in goosebumps. Sporting a semi and fighting the urge to cry.

"kiss and tell" 🔒 (T) by sloom | 2,169 | “Trust me,” Sharpy says, “this will be good for you.” And then, he shoves Jonny into what appears to be a mostly empty coat closet and slams the door shut behind him. “What the fuck, Sharp!” Jonny calls, pounding at the door which is, of course, locked. “Enjoy your seven minutes in heaven, Tazer,” Sharpy singsongs. Then, the bare bulb mounted on the ceiling flares to life, illuminating one Patrick Kane. Fuck.

"i don't play hard to get (i play to get you hard)" 🔒 (E) by sloom | 4,666 | Jonny starts out in twink porn - of course he does, he’s nineteen, all big dark eyes and delicate features. He never planned on being a porn star, it just sort of happened. He got injured and lost his hockey scholarship and, well, everyone has their story about how they got into porn. Jonny needed the money. Simple as that.

"left standing in the wilderness downtown" 🔒 (M) by poeelektra | 4,051 | They’re friends, though that’s always felt like a watered-down word for what they are, teammates and halves of a whole and things that are too big for language. Jonny’s his person, is all.

"anxious like the ocean in a storm" 🔒 (M) by poeelektra | 4,169 | “Did you know Savvy and Larmer combined for 220 pts in ’87-’88? Last week I watched them pummel the North Stars, a 6-point night for Savvy, with a hat trick.” He leaves off how his eyes were glued to the screen watching the two of them, because Jonny has no poetry in his soul. It just made Patrick wonder—about their futures, if what everyone’s saying is true, what it’ll be like to go all the way like he thinks him and Jonny can do—and the wondering gave him goosebumps.

"Okay, So Now You're a Vegetarian" 🔒 (M) by anonymous | 33,854 | Patrick Kane secretly decides to go vegetarian. Jonathan Toews draws the wrong conclusions.

"Good Times Never Seemed So Good" (E) by juliusschmidt | 21,171 | Johnny is a miserable bastard. Kaner is a needy fuck. They are meant for each other and also for summer on Mackinac Island, fratbro paradise.

"Media Vita In Morte Sumus" 🔒 (T) by jezziejay | 2,556 | Life is standing on the observation deck of the surgical theatre when Death finds him. “Nobody called for the grim reaper,” Jon says without turning around. There’s a soft snicker from behind him. “I’m omnipresent, I don’t need to be called.”

"I Could Dream of Ways to See You, I Could Close My Eyes to Dream" (M) by Frosting50 | 2,686 | Jonny’s head falls back against the metal stall divider with a resounding thud. He keeps making these small punched out grunts, even as he bites his lips in an effort to keep quiet. He has zero desire to get caught by some homophobic Jets fan while he’s getting his dick sucked in the men’s room at the MTS Centre, but -- Jesus Christ -- this kid has a mouth on him.

"Go, Johnny, Go" (E) by juliusschmidt | 4,387 | Jonny gives Kaner a ticket. To the courthouse. Kaner gives Jonny a ticket. To the love shack hockey game.

"don't look up, down, or to the side" 🔒 (M) by hazel | 8,282 | His mom had told him not to fall in love with houses; so had his dad, made some crack about them being worse than women, son, while his mom fake-punched him in the arm and then added, "and like people, it's what's underneath that matters, Johnny." But this is the first house he's looked at that he's liked, though he doesn't know why: it's got narrow, pointy windows with stone pieces on the tops like eyebrows, and it sits between its larger, tidier, neighbours like a poor cousin. Johnny thinks it maybe just needs someone to love it; and then he thinks: fuck.

"Let It Be" (E) by juliusschmidt | 60,127 | There’s one person who knows more about Pat than Brisson, one person who’s closer to discovering Pat’s secrets than his mom, one person who always, always, calls bullshit on him: Jonathan Fucking Toews. And following the launch of the Sun-Times article, which runs with the unfortunate headline “Patrick Kane Admits He’s Not God,” Jonny does not disappoint.

"Power Balance" (E) by thisissirius | 13,476 | The body of the email just says, “don’t fuck seguin” because Jonny doesn’t know what capital letters are and he’s a controlling asshole even when he’s miles away, and attached to it is a spreadsheet that Patrick reluctantly opens. It’s color-coded with tabs and he’s not sure whether he wants to punch Jonny in the mouth or laugh in his face. Calling him in the middle of the airport is a really bad fucking idea and Patrick knows something about those, so he settles for sending Jonny a message. YOU SENT ME A JERK-OFF SCHEDULE FOR SWITZERLAND?!

"break me in" (E) by thundersquall | 5,386 | Today Patrick comes into the locker room, shrugs off his coat, and underneath he's wearing a fucking tight tee that clings to every dip and curve of his musculature. It looks fucking painted on, and the sight of it slams Jonathan like a puck to his face, stunning and somehow primal and just bordering on the edge of obscene, how good Patrick looks in that.

"the high road is hard to find" (M) by anonymous | 11,304 | Patrick guesses this is his “third strike, you’re out” in the Jonathan Toews friendship book and he doesn’t know how to remedy that. He doesn't think he deserves the chance, to be honest.

"you look so perfect" 🔒 (E) by tarcanza | 4,270 | His eyes land on Jonny, and his rage chokes in his throat. Dries right up and flips on a dime like a fucking chemical reaction. Jonny’s lying on his stomach in the middle of his bed, reading a book. He’s in nothing but those stupid, tiny black boxer-briefs, stretched tight over the swell of his ass. One side’s jacked, fabric pushed up so that his cheek’s just hanging out all casual, fucking taunting Patrick.

"easy does it" (E) by robokittens | 2,137 | Jonny tips his head forward, rests it against Patrick's shoulder. "You got this, baby," he whispers. "You can take this; you were made for it. Made for me." It doesn't even feel like dirty talk, just like the truth.

"The Scars That Words Have Carved" 🔒 (E) by Linsky | 15,694 | “Forgive me for asking, Peeks,” Sharpy says, slowly. “But did you just kiss our illustrious captain, here?” “Um.” Patrick’s not sure what this captain business is about, but: “Yes?” Jonny’s still staring at him like he’s grown four or five extra heads, and, okay. Patrick definitely read this wrong.

"Wide Eyes" (E) by Tedda | 44,832 | When he starts hooking up with Patrick, Jonny slowly begins to realize a few things about himself.

"a hot summer night" (E) by Tedda | 5,267 | Patrick arrives in Arizona on a hot summer night. He hasn't talked to Jonny in five years, and it would have felt weird to do it over the phone for the first time.

"Dress Well, Test Well" 🔒 (M) by Kerfluffle | 9,649 | A liberal arts college AU.

"Streets of Chicago" 🔒 (E) by TheNorthRemembers | 79,749 | Patrick is 29 years old when he finds out he is HIV positive. Patrick is 29 years old when he realizes that despite giving up everything for hockey, he still might lose it over one stupid mistake, one careless, reckless night.

"a hot summer night" (E) by Tedda | 5,267 | Patrick arrives in Arizona on a hot summer night. He hasn't talked to Jonny in five years, and it would have felt weird to do it over the phone for the first time.

"blue eyes, velvet lips" (E) by Tedda | 10,356 | Prince Jonathan finds a runaway slave. Clearly, the only solution is taking the boy home.

"Wide Eyes" (E) by Tedda | 44,832 | When he starts hooking up with Patrick, Jonny slowly begins to realize a few things about himself.

"The Scars That Words Have Carved" 🔒 (E) by Linsky | 15,694 | “Forgive me for asking, Peeks,” Sharpy says, slowly. “But did you just kiss our illustrious captain, here?” “Um.” Patrick’s not sure what this captain business is about, but: “Yes?” Jonny’s still staring at him like he’s grown four or five extra heads, and, okay. Patrick definitely read this wrong.

"It Must Be Something in the Water" 🔒 (E) by allthebros | 40,228 | After five years away, living on the west coast, coming to terms with his sexuality, Patrick comes back to his coastal hometown to be with his family again and to start working at his dad's dealership, determined to get his life back on track, to leave behind all emotional messes and complications. But on the first morning of his return he meets Jonny, his sister's new boyfriend, and falls hard in lust with him, throwing an enormous wrench in his plan.

"Sleepless in Chicago" 🔒 (E) by sahiya | 4,894 | “Babe,” Jonny said, “how long has it been since you slept?” “Three nights,” Patrick said.

"Muscle Stim" 🔒 (E) by sahiya | 7,672 | The last thing Patrick needed was a stupid crush on the dude whose job it was to get him back out on the ice as quickly as possible.

"Didn't Know That Was a Thing" 🔒 (T) by AnythingThrice | 1,303 | Patrick notices it as he's searching the shelves in Jonny's bedroom for Madden 08: a weird glass sculpture, glossy black with bands of a trippy, swirling white pattern that seem to sit just under the surface. He figures it for a knickknack at first, some art piece his decorator suggested or—more likely—one of those locally-and-sustainably crafted souvenirs Jonny tends to bring back from his vacations.

"Not Something You Rub in (Just) Anyone's Face" 🔒 (E) by AnythingThrice | 6,736 | "Don’t wanna talk about it," Patrick cuts in, voice firmer now. As far as he's concerned they'd done all the necessary talking back in April. Offseason rules – offseason lives – set and followed and fucking done. World Cup over. Summer gone. Long past time to get back to the good stuff: friendly ice, Blackhawks hockey and being first star in Jonny's eyes.

"Shitshow" 🔒 (E) by AnythingThrice | 19,989 | Jonathan thought they'd outgrown this. Or no, if he's being honest with himself, he thought Pat had outgrown it while he'd merely shoved it aside, banished it to the realm of things it didn't help to dwell on.

"Fill Up Your Mouth with Something Sweet" 🔒 (E) by Linsky | 3,904 | The amazing thing, Jonny reflects after a couple of months with the Blackhawks, is how Patrick Kane manages to be such a good hockey player and yet so wrong about everything.

"the whole of him" 🔒 (E) by allthebros | 2,258 | Patrick did nothing else for this moment but live with inconvenient erections since they talked about doing it, only showing up at Jonny’s door in sweats and a t-shirt and his morning-long semi he’d made sure to trap in the kind of tight underwear that would make Jonny proud. Well fine, Patrick also did some video research. Watching review tapes is important. But Jonny--fucking Jonathan Toews--he got ready for this.

"What It Means" 🔒 (T) by allthebros | 1,312 | They’ve never been like this with each other before. He doesn’t know if it’s the sun, being away from Chicago and their lives, or just them finally being able to have this, but it catches inside Jonny’s chest. Little swoops in his stomach that surprise him every time, make it hard to breathe.

"Tell the Stars I'm Coming Home" 🔒 (E) by allthebros | 15k WIP | Jonny and Patrick have three weeks left to live. Three weeks to find their way back to each other.

"La Piscine" 🔒 (E) by allthebros | 2,484 | Pat didn’t think it was possible, but if anything, Jonathan Toews has gotten hotter since Pat saw him last summer. It’s kind of a bummer that they don’t go to the same college, but Pat appreciates the surprise. He doesn’t know what’s in the water up there in Montreal, but God Bless Canada.

"S(t)ick" 🔒 (E) by allthebros | 2,842 | “What’s gotten into you, man,” Jonny says, softly. The ‘you’ is on Patrick's lips before he can realize he’s thought it, hysterical laugh bubbling into his throat at the cheesiness of it, the disgusting idiocy, but instead he says, “it’s this heat, man, I can’t—” Think. Sleep. Fucking drink a beer like normal. Look at Jonny and see what he used to see.

"Shawty With You" 🔒 (E) by allthebros | 6,764 | 5 times Pat and Jonny needed mistletoe to kiss, and one time they didn't.

"134 Days" 🔒 (E) by allthebros | 3,406 | It's been a long winter without him.

"Nothin' But Blue Skies" 🔒 (T) by allthebros | 2,708 | Perhaps the middle of Wisconsin wasn't the right place to tell Jonny.

"Sonoran" 🔒 (T) by allthebros | 2,177 | Somewhat newly retired, Patrick makes his way to Arizona where Jonny's ostensibly getting his own shit together. It's summer in the desert, and it's been too long since they've seen each other.

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This list is ongoing.

#fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fic recs #mens hockey rpf #patrick kane x jonathan toews #1988

[giganonyx]

Werewolf Lore

Some stuff about the loth-werewolves in my fanfiction, and their history concerning the dark side/their origin!

A “curse” created by an ancient Sith Lord, who experimented on loth wolves from lothal in her laboratory on a moon deep in the territory of the Sith Empire. She was well versed in Sith alchemy more so than combat.

She wanted to serve the empire by providing it with soldiers that were made for dispatching force users specifically, and she had always been fascinated with the mysterious and archaic loth wolves who had been observed to have some connection to the force.

Using prisoners of war, volunteers, and kidnapping random civilians, she tested her experiments on many different species, including: togruta, Twi’lek, human, Sith, ugnaught, chiss, etc

Not everyone survived the transformations, and many died

The successful ones were studied excessively

However, the Sith and her apprentice mysteriously went missing, and it is believed her own creations destroyed her

Some cursed people escaped, and inevitably the curse spread to some extent in the outer rim.

Curiously, the loth wolves and loth werewolves all declined in number, and many infer that the Jedi set out to dispatch them in secret, however, the true reason is unknown.

Obviously, some remained.

Details on the curse

Most information about the werewolf illness is hidden in the deepest crypts of the Jedi archive, and is inaccessible to the public. Some information can be gathered from questionable sites on the Holonet, and old folktales.

Transformations are very, very painful. Most people do not survive the first shift. Only the strongest survive- a byproduct of the Sith’s lust for power.

Can be transmitted through bites(it’s in the saliva).

Transformations can be triggered by: a full moon, force sensitives nearby, and intense emotions (anger, rage, hate, sadness, aggression/agitation, anxiety/stress, and even extreme joy). This makes having a normal life exceedingly difficult.

There are rumors that “wolfsbane”, an alien herb, may have some effect on them, but the exact effect is unknown.

In human form, the werewolf may have intense cravings for meat. Additionally, non-meat foods are revolting, and become difficult to keep down.

As a human, they gain increased sight, smell, taste, and hearing. They are also more prone to out bursts of anger. Again, a byproduct of the nature of the Sith.

Space travel is almost impossible to achieve without randomly turning, and is very annoying to go through. Sometimes, though, a trip may be void of shifting, if they are lucky.

In their wolf form, they become violent and have an insatiable hunger. They have little to no memory of what they do in this state.

However, there is a possibility that the rational human mind can break free, and regain control.

Werewolves are very big and tall, but when on all fours, are slightly smaller than regular loth wolves.

Werewolves lack the pack mentality Loth Wolves have.

A couple days or even hours before a full moon, the person may experience fever-like symptoms and body aches.

Werewolves have hands and fingers, which can grasp things and even open doors! Yay!

As a result of being infected by the curse, the midichlorian count in their blood slightly increases. They cannot use the force, but are more resistive to force attacks and can track down force users easily.

In human form, they have longer than normal canines, and have tapetum lucidium at night.

Extra, Random Information:

There are rumors of a cure

The Jedi refuse to talk about the werewolves

The galaxy assumed werewolves were just cool, fictional horror stories

The wilderness makes werewolves have more feral, violent behavior, but they are least likely to attack a human in the open expanse of the woods.

It can be genetically transferred (ie: you have kids, or you get cloned; most likely, the clone is a werewolf, and so is your kid)

Planets that have a strong darkside presence may cause a werewolf to shift. Planets with a strong lightside presence also provoke shifting, but the werewolf may become violently ill.

Werewolves have increased rates of healing, which make them incredibly difficult to kill.

Silver has no effect on them.

Hunter hates everything about being a werewolf lol.

The increase in his senses coupled with his enhanced mutation is not tasty.

#star wars fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #sw tbb #star wars #sw fanfic #bad batch fanfic #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #hunter tbb #loth werewolf #loth wolves #loth wolf #werewolf fanfiction #tbb fanfiction #tbb #star wars tbb #star wars hunter #hunter the bad batch #werewolf!hunter #werewolf fic #werewolf #werewolf lore #sith #dark side of the force #I love to ramble about werewolves yes how did you know #I’m taking so long to finish the next chapter asquqjwiq I’m so sorry #I should finish soon tho #hopefully before bad batch Eve #anyway #enjoy some brain rot

[that-angry-noldo]

3, 8 and 9 for ashes!!

(fanfiction ask game)

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

hmm not sure if i have a line exactly but i think this passage counts

Finarfin's mind was shielded, a wall of limestone, a castle of ivory, strong and impenetrable—but Maglor saw greater crumble. His voice was a running river, a soft mist, an ivy seizing the slightest cracks; he sang, and Finarfin struggled to keep awake and alert. Maglor sang of night and stars, but it made Finarfin trash wilder; sang of sun and wind and blue sky, and it made him fight fiercer.

a small director's cut: the reason Finarfin was not calmed by usually "calm" images was because of how war warped his perception - it is stated through the fic that he finds night and darkness uncomfortable and borderline frightening, while sun and clear sky usually meant impossible conditions to exist in armour as well as thirst and other struggles.

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

i think a great deal of choice/act/regret discussion in chapter 6 was me projecting some of my own stuff i worked on in therapy (shoutout to my therapist for telling me that i can apparently choose not to do things?? wild)

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

chapter 6 was meant to be the chapter where finarfin started softening up to maglor and they talked about the twins and nerdanel, but i couldn't work it in, and it became about oral tradition & an impact of a single person on the narrative & choice and regret.

thank you!! send more, these are fun

#ask game #ashes #ty!!