#fnfic

[daysweaty]

My fanfic Lougosi (🦌x🐺) Beastars

https://www.wattpad.com/story/365219369?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=DigiinCris

[whispering-about-the-tmnt]

Just added another chapter to Second Time Around!

[bananasplit133]

Between Shadows and Light (Part 1)

(part 2) (part 3)

Alternate Invincible | Mark Grayson x Reader

Summary: In a small café overshadowed by Invincible’s reign, the protagonist finds a brief escape from the chaos outside. When Invincible enters the café dressed casually, a mix of anxiety and curiosity arises. They engage in a conversation about fear and hope, revealing a complex dynamic between them. The protagonist recalls a past encounter where they saw Invincible’s face during a battle, a secret they keep.

As Invincible returns for deeper conversations, he expresses a newfound appreciation for hope, which he has lost sight of. Their discussions reveal layers of intrigue and tension, marking the beginning of a slow-burning connection in a world transformed by fear and power.

(This is also on AO3. User: bananasplit133)

The soft hiss of the espresso machine filled the air as you adjusted your apron, glancing around the small café. The warm, inviting atmosphere was a comforting reprieve from the chaos that had overtaken the world. Just a few months ago, life was vibrant and alive—people bustling in and out, laughter echoing over clinking cups. But that was before Invincible had descended upon the earth like a dark cloud, bending the will of the masses and turning your quaint town into a shadow of its former self.

You wiped down the counter, your mind wandering to the streets outside, now eerily quiet. Most people had surrendered to Invincible's rule, their spirits crushed under the weight of his relentless power. It was disheartening, but here, in the café, you could pretend for a little while longer that things were normal—that you were safe, surrounded by the comforting scent of coffee and pastries. As the bell above the door jingled, you looked up to see a tall figure step inside. The light from the outside cast an imposing silhouette, but as the figure moved closer, you recognized him. Invincible, but… without his iconic costume? — It was purely by chance that you glimpsed his face a few months ago. You had found yourself caught between a battle he was waging against a few superheroes and a closed road, leaving you no choice but to hide and hope the fight would wrap up quickly so you could escape to safety. The superheroes didn’t manage to inflict any damage on Invincible; his costume, however, was another story. You happened to be in the perfect position to witness it—the sight of his mask and several other parts of his outfit reduced to nothing but ashes. You never revealed to anyone that you knew what he looked like, but that image lingered in your mind for a long time. — He wore a simple black jacket and jeans, his dark hair slightly tousled, but there was an unmistakable aura of authority about him. Invincible stood at the entrance, his presence radiating a strange mix of intimidation and cockiness. You didn’t know much about him; he was a significant figure in this new world order, and the reputation he carried was one of fear and dominance. He glanced around the café, taking in the eclectic decor, and for a moment, his expression softened, as if a wave of nostalgia hit him for a bare second, though it quickly morphed back into a facade of casual confidence.

“Can I help you?” you asked, forcing your voice to remain steady despite the curious knot forming in your stomach. Why was he here out of all places?

“Just a coffee. Black.” His voice was low, edged with a self-assuredness that hinted at the power he wielded.

“Coming right up,” you replied, reaching for the coffee pot. As you poured the steaming liquid, you couldn’t help but observe him. Up close, he seemed less like the monster the media portrayed and more like a man who thrived on the chaos he had created.

You slid the cup across the counter, your fingers brushing against his as he took it. There was a moment of silence, a strange tension hanging in the air, and you quickly withdrew your hand, focusing back on your job. “That’ll be three dollars,” you said, trying to maintain your composure.

“Keep the change,” he said, sliding a bill across the counter. His gaze lingered on you, and you could feel the weight of his interest, as if he were trying to figure out what made you different from everyone else.

“Thanks,” you replied, attempting to sound casual. “Enjoy your coffee.”

He turned to find a seat, and as he did, you caught sight of the tense set of his shoulders. For someone who wielded so much power, he seemed burdened by something, perhaps even frustration. You felt a tug of curiosity for him, a desire to understand the man behind the facade.

As he settled into a corner booth, you continued to work, your mind drifting back to him. Why was he here? Why not one of the fancy bars or high-end establishments he could easily access? The question nagged at you as you served other customers, stealing glances in his direction when you could.

After a while, the café began to empty, the remaining customers drifting out into the night. Mark remained, nursing his coffee, lost in thought. You hesitated for a moment before approaching his table, curiosity bubbling beneath the surface. This could go south any second, but the questions that kept popping up in your mind were eating at you.

“Are you alright?” you asked softly, genuine concern lacing your tone. “You seem... miles away.”

He looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes before he offered a small, almost mocking smile. “Just thinking about how different things used to be. It’s easy to forget when everything feels... chaotic.”

You nodded, understanding all too well what he meant. “This café used to be a meeting place for friends and families. Now, it feels like everyone is afraid to come out.” “Afraid to live,” he added, his voice low and edged with arrogance. “I guess I’m part of the reas-”He leaned back, an almost smug expression on his face before you interrupted him.

“Are you serious? That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”” The moment the words left your mouth, you realized your mistake.

Mark leaned forward, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “You actually think I’m the reason? How do you know that?”

You shifted on your feet, trying to regain your composure. “Well, I mean, it’s not like people aren’t scared of you. You’ve got this whole... Invincible thing going on.”

His gaze narrowed, curiosity morphing into suspicion. “And how do you know who I am?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of your admission. “I just- uh- had a little.. incident a couple of months ago, saw your face accidentally. Kinda hard to forget someone’s face when they’re highly-known”

Mark's expression darkened, a mixture of intrigue and caution. “An incident? You were close enough to see my face? That’s... interesting.” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering. “What exactly did you see?”

Your heart raced as you searched for the right words. “It was a fight. I was stuck in a situation where I couldn’t really move, and… well, you were there. You were busy with the other superheroes, and I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

He studied you intently, his expression unreadable. “So you’ve had a front-row seat to my ‘heroics’? You’re lucky you didn’t get caught in the crossfire.”

You bit your lip, feeling the tension in the air. “Yeah, I guess so. But I didn’t mean to pry or anything. I swear I won’t tell anyone. It’s not like I was looking to get involved in your... business.”

Mark’s lips curled into a smirk. “Good. Because trust me, you don’t want to be part of that world. Just remember, if anyone asks, I’m just Mark. Got it?”

“Got it,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt. As he leaned back, the weight of the conversation hung between you, a precarious balance of curiosity and danger.

Mark cleared his throat before talking again. “As I was saying, I guess I’m part of the reason why everyone’s afraid to live nowadays.” He said, an almost proud smirk on his face. There was an unsettling confidence in his admission that made you pause. Most people spoke of him with fear, but here he was, revealing a side of himself that felt like a twisted game. You felt a mix of intrigue and wariness.

“It’s not just you,” you said gently, feeling the urge to ease the tension. “People need time to adjust. This café—this space—it’s a reminder of what we can have again.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze penetrating. “You really believe that?”

“I have to. Otherwise, what’s left?” You shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips. “And besides, I think people like normalcy. It gives them hope.”

Mark seemed to consider your words, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Hope can be a dangerous thing. But you, you’re different. You should know that clinging to hope isn’t always the best choice.”

“Or it can be a beautiful one,” you countered softly, meeting his gaze with unwavering conviction. For the first time, you saw a flicker of something complex in his demeanor. It was as if you were witnessing a brief glimpse of the man behind the mask—a man who thrived on chaos and understood the power he held over others.

“I’ll take your coffee anytime,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “It’s... refreshing.”

You smiled back, feeling a sense of warmth swell in your chest. This was not the reaction you expected from someone like him—someone who thrived on fear and dominance. It was oddly comforting, the way he responded to your kindness, as if it were a rare treat in a world where he was often met with distance and wariness. As the evening wore on, you found yourself intrigued by him, wanting to know more about the man behind the facade. With a final smile, you turned away, feeling the weight of his gaze follow you as you tidied up the counter.

The café clock chimed, signaling the end of your shift. Reluctantly, you glanced toward the door, the thought of leaving him behind a nagging ache in your chest. “I should get going,” you said, feeling a twinge of disappointment. “But I hope to see you again.”

“I’ll be around,” he replied, his voice steady. “This café is... different. I like it.” With a final smile, you turned away, feeling the weight of his gaze follow you as you tidied up the counter. As you finished closing, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something—a slow burn waiting to ignite amidst the ashes of a world transformed.

----

The next few days passed in a blur of routine, but thoughts of Mark lingered in your mind like the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Each time the bell above the door jingled, you felt a mix of hope and anxiety flooding your senses. Would he return? Would you have the chance to learn more about him, the man who seemed so different from the figure everyone feared?

You found yourself looking for ways to distract yourself from the uncertainty that stirred within. Your shifts were filled with the usual chatter of customers, the clinking of cups, and the familiar rhythm of brewing coffee, yet a subtle unease sat at the back of your mind. Each time someone entered, your gaze flicked toward the door, searching for the silhouette you had come to recognize.

When Mark finally walked in again, the atmosphere shifted slightly, his presence demanding attention without the need for grand gestures. He looked just as weary as before, but there was something about his demeanor—an air of contemplation, perhaps? You watched as he approached the counter, his expression thoughtful.

“Back for more coffee?” you asked, trying to keep the mood light.

“Actually, I was hoping to talk,” he replied, his tone serious yet laced with that signature cockiness.

“Sure, I can spare a few minutes,” you said, curiosity piquing within you. You were still getting used to.. whatever this was between the two of you. As you poured him another cup, your mind raced with questions. What did he want to discuss? Did he have something he wanted to share?

He settled into the same corner booth, and you grabbed a small notebook from behind the counter, more for comfort than anything else. You slid into the booth across from him, feeling the tension of the moment fill the space between you.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, setting the notebook down, your fingers brushing against the pages nervously.

Mark took a sip of his coffee, his gaze drifting to the window, where shadows of the outside world flickered like ghosts. “I wanted to thank you for what you said the other night. It made me think.”

“About what?” you asked, leaning in slightly, genuinely interested.

“About hope,” he replied, his voice steady. “I’ve been so consumed by everything going on that I forgot what it felt like to have something to believe in. Not that I need it.” His smirk returned, cocky and self-assured. “But it’s amusing to see someone cling to it.”

You listened intently, surprised by his admission. “It’s easy to lose sight of that, especially with everything that’s happened,” you said softly. “But it’s important to hold on to it, even in small ways.”

He met your gaze, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “You really think so? Most people think it’s a weakness.” “Maybe it is,” you replied, feeling emboldened. “But it’s what makes us human.”

Mark leaned back, a self-satisfied grin spreading across his face. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. Most people wouldn’t dare to say that to me.”

“Maybe they’re just afraid,” you offered, wishing to peel back the layers of his guarded demeanor. “Fear can make people act differently.”

“Or it can make them weak,” he countered, his voice low and dangerous. “Weakness is not something I tolerate. But you? You’re… intriguing.” He said after a few seconds of trying to find a fitting word. You felt a mix of unease and intrigue at his words. “I just try to be nice to people. Everyone has their own struggles.”

Mark’s expression shifted slightly, revealing a glimmer of something darker. “Being nice is overrated. It’s more fun to be feared. After all, fear keeps people in line.” You couldn’t tell if he was joking or if there was a genuine edge of seriousness behind his words. “Is that really all there is to it?” you asked, cautiously probing.

He chuckled, a low, almost sinister sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, it’s just the reality of power. You wouldn’t understand unless you experienced it yourself.”

The conversation hung in the air, charged with tension. You wanted to believe there was more to him than this bravado, but you also recognized the darkness lurking beneath the surface. “I guess we’ll see,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, even as unease crept into your chest.

Mark smirked, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. Maybe he didn't get much of it these days. “I’m looking forward to it.”

As your shift continued, you couldn’t shake the sense that this marked the beginning of some kind of connection between the two of you.

(THATS ALL. ANY FEEDBACK???? SHOULD I CONTINUE TS OR NOT??)

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Looking at the map of Hyrule and Twilight Princess and I just see so many grottoes and I'm like how did I miss all these--

I'm gonna have to do some serious exploring the next time I fire up my gamecube.

[shadthchan052-blog]

Breakdown: Yeah let me see if I-. Found it!

Breakdown sends another video of Bee and Wasp singing

Breakdown: Bee copied the healing ability of this song and sang it with Wasp. It was amazing.

Breakdown sends a video of Bee singing Fly Me to the Moon and playing guitar

Breakdown: Took Bee on a date and got him to sing.

Hm. Been a while since took you out.

It has been a long time, hasn't it. Anyway, he sings really well!

[toniko]

kicking my feet reading every fnfic of my CP & then not catching up to the main story . sorry mr fraud here

[sunsstars]

Gonna read some fnfic and try not to fall asleep

[ebony-hawthorne]

i just remembered the time when i hd a migraine and asked my mom to make up a story about the dc super hero girls.

i think that may have been whe my intrest in fnfic started, idk.

one time i gave n entire speech to my summer school public speking class.

it was a batgirl x spiderman fic.

i m so gld i never saw them again.

i was 9

[thatbendyfan]

dawg go to bed

i’m gendyinly about

to

i’m hust gona finush reading fnfic

[ratgingi]

so sorry for not delivering michy and peyton fnfic. swear on my life ill work on it immediately i am. very unconfident about how ill make michy act

ITS OK LIL BRO DW when i write my Own characters i get scared about. making them ooc so i Get It its why the damn quiz is taking so long BHDAVSDJHAVJA

[ritsleep]

When this post reachefs 300 i'll post a fnfic

Welcome to the club, kid

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

AXEL UM. MY MOM UH

KNOWS I WRITE SOME FORM OF FNFIC

AND I EXPORTED THE SHIT OUT OF MY GOOGLE DRIVE SO FAST BRO.

OH HELLLL NOOOOOOOO LORD HAVE MERCY ID DELETE EVERYTHING NO TRACE NO WITNESSES

[squalodinoappreciationsquad]

Sometimes you want your blorbos to kiss, but fnfics are not enough.

You need visuals, but somehow you lack artistic talent.

And then you spend 3 hours on Dolldivine as if you are not a fully grown adult to make visuals for your blorbos to kiss.

What is even my life.

[kadkadduwa]

rewatching the gmm fnfic episode. its so gold

[jkriordanverse]

for all my fnfic writers out there <333.

the look of love ೀ

how to describe a loving gaze

⇸ eyes darting all over your face, trying to figure out which part of you they want to set their eyes on the most (it's impossible)

⇸ gazing at you like you're miles away only when you're a few feet away, standing with another person. their stare is hard, intense, but also melting and blank.

⇸ a featherlight touch to your arm with their eyes softly peering up at you. they can't believe that you're allowing them to touch you like this—so innocent, so softly.

⇸ late nights where its just the two of you in a car. they turn over to look at you but immediately turn. for the safety of the both of you, they can't stare at you any longer

⇸ when you're teasing them, they have to bite down extra hard to not release that smile from their lips. their eyes are squinted more tightly than usual. still, they're glued onto you.

⇸ meeting their eyes from across the room, and the two of you have the exact same thought. you turn away first to hold back your laughter, but their eyes are pinned onto you.

⇸ a softened gaze in a random moment. there's no reason for them to be looking at you like that—with slightly hooded eyes and parted lips—except for the fact that they just love seeing you

⇸ you're twirling around in your new outfit, showing the 360 angle. their pupils look like they're completely taking over the iris of their eye. suddenly, breathing becomes a lot more faster than they remember.

⇸ tears run like thrashing rivers on your face, dripping onto your pants and soaking the sleeves of your shirt. but they don't care. even when wiping your tears, they still can't get over how you look absolutely angelic like this.

⇸ eyeing you in the middle of the night, feeling incredibly lucky that they are the only one who can look at you in this state. a smile dawns upon their face as they trace the shape of your jaw, press their fingers in your cheekbones, and kiss you on the cheek.

⇸ a make-out session that seems like it will never stop until they pull away, and the reason being, "i needed to look at you like this," with swollen lips and a red flush.

⇸ laughter dying down into silence. looking at each other and bursting into laughter again.

⇸ being completely bare in front of each other after a long night. shameless admiration where their eyes move up and down your face and body. there's a mix of lust and adoration in their eyes.

⇸ watching you storm off, and all they can do is stand their, focused on your fleeting figure. their face is contorted—not in an angry way—but a look of concern flashes across their features. did they just lose the one they loved the most?

⇸ getting food with the other person and realizing that this is all it takes for you to be content. this is what happiness feels like, you think.

⇸ a gripping hug that makes you feel so seen. that one second during the embrace where you two both look at each other, and time stands still. you want to frame the expression on the other person's face.

⇸ seeing you, and a beaming smile immediately breaks out of their face.

[anaveragebibliophile]

Gratitude

Young!Legolas x Thranduil x Wife!Reader 

After spending some time with his father, Legolas discovers just how lucky he is to have a mother like you. And someone else seems to be inclined to agree as well. 

It was on this night that the sky slowly faded into the most spectacularly calm colors. Light blues and pointed yellows faded to make room for the syrupy corals and mandarins that signaled night’s falling. And without having had the good sense to sneak a peek out the window within the last half hour, you’d have missed all the beauty that Valar (God) bestowed upon Middle-Earth. 

Soon, a soft knock sounded on the door to your and your husband’s--the king’s--chambers. “Hello, Naneth (mother),” a sweet, little voice said. 

“Hello, lasdithen (little leaf). How was your time in the study with Ada (Father)? I hope he didn’t consume himself with much work during your time together,” you smiled, knowing the impending council meeting had been one of the biggest stressors for your beloved husband. So much so that neither you nor your son had seen much of him the last few days. Thirty minutes--the time you pushed him to spend with Legolas--was the longest break he’d awarded himself all day.  

Legolas’ mouth quirked up in a grin at the mention of his father. “We had the best time, Naneth. Ada showed me many special books and told me many stories about our kin, even a few about you.”

At that comment, your initially lively, stimulated countenance faltered a bit. “Me? What did your Ada mention, lasvelui (sweet leaf)?” 

“A battle with Orcs, lots of iâr (blood), and how you stopped Ada from worrying and pushed him to fight.” 

Well, that was putting things very lightly. You remembered that day as if it were yesterday. 

Watching Thranduil jump from his throne when a guard, sprinting into the throne room, informed him of the security breech at the gates. Hearing your husband’s harsh bellows, and seeing how they appeared to be shaking the stone pillars that held part of the castle in place. And, hastily grabbing the outer-most sleeve of his robes before he made his way down the marble steps, pushing your lips together for one last mind-numbing kiss. 

The urgency with which he grabbed your waist informed you of how frightened he truly was by this attack. And, to be completely honest, it perturbed you too. It had been at least a century since any Orcs had dared to quarrel with the Woodland Realm. Why now? What was the purpose? 

“Don’t worry about us,” you instructed, hands clasping the thin hairs at the nape of his neck. “Legolas is napping in our chambers. I will make sure it stays that way.” 

“How can I not?  You two are my life, hûn velui (sweetheart). Without you, I cannot even imagine what my life would become.”

“You need only trust. Fate will take care of the rest. I believe we will have a long, happy life together. You, me, and our beautiful, beautiful son.” 

“Our little leaf, our greatest treasure.” 

“Yes, all ours. Now go. These feelings of uncertainty aren’t who you are. Be the proud, arrogant aran we all know and love.” 

An imperceptible movement at the left corner of his mouth was what assured you he got the message. Then, with his signature eye roll, he took leave immediately, belting out orders surrounding battle strategy, infirmary locations, and the leader’s head being left for proper disposal--at the sword of the king. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Naneth?” Legolas queried, having moved away from the door to lightly pull on the lower hem of your dressing gown. 

“I’m sorry, darling. I was thinking back to that time with your father.” 

He nodded in understanding. “I’m glad you’re my Naneth. You always make everything better.” 

You kneeled before him, opening your arms in the hope that he would get your message. And in what probably counted out to be three seconds, you found a tiny, kind-hearted boy’s head pressed against your bosom. 

“She does, doesn’t she, iôn nín (my son)?” came the voice of your husband. 

Very quickly, your eyes--fresh with rapidly shedding tears--met his drier but no less affected ones.  

“Please join us, Ada.” 

“Yes, Thran, please do join. We can have a family hug of sorts.”

Being given the go-ahead seemed to do wonders for him. Forever uncertain that husband of yours was. 

And, making haste, he reached the two people he valued most in the world in rapid time and proceeded to make it known how much he adored them. Choosing to sit on his bum in a criss-cross fashion rather than kneel, he soon snaked his right arm around his son’s back and performed a similar movement on his wife. 

“Thank you for this, hervess nín (my wife). Thank you for everything.”