#Weather Resistant Roofing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

buccosroofing · 1 month ago

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Selecting The Right Roof Materials in Pittsburgh, PA

When selecting roofing materials for Pittsburgh, PA, it's essential to consider the area's climate, which includes cold winters, moderate rainfall, and potential snow accumulation. Durability, longevity, and the ability to withstand varying weather conditions are key factors. Here are some of the best materials for roofing in Pittsburgh:

1. Asphalt Shingles

Why it’s Ideal: Asphalt shingles are the most common roofing material in Pittsburgh due to their affordability, durability, and versatility. They provide reliable protection against moderate weather conditions and are resistant to water, wind, and snow.

Pros: Cost-effective, widely available, easy to install, and low maintenance. They also come in a variety of styles and colors.

Cons: They may not last as long as other materials like metal or slate and can be susceptible to damage in severe storms.

2. Metal Roofing

Why it’s Ideal: Metal roofs have become increasingly popular in Pittsburgh due to their durability and ability to handle heavy snow and ice. They are energy-efficient and can reflect sunlight, helping to reduce cooling costs in the summer.

Pros: Extremely durable, long-lasting (50+ years), fire-resistant, lightweight, and low maintenance. Metal roofs also provide excellent resistance to harsh weather, such as hail and heavy snow.

Cons: Higher upfront cost compared to asphalt shingles, and noise during rain or hailstorms can be an issue without proper insulation.

3. Slate Roofing

Why it’s Ideal: Slate is a traditional choice that is highly suitable for Pittsburgh's historic architecture and offers unmatched durability. Natural slate can withstand harsh weather conditions and has a lifespan of over 100 years with proper maintenance.

Pros: Very durable, visually appealing, and fire-resistant. Slate also adds value to homes and provides excellent insulation.

Cons: High initial cost and heavy weight, requiring additional structural support in some cases. Repairs can also be more complex and expensive.

4. Clay or Concrete Tiles

Why it’s Ideal: While not as common in Pittsburgh as other materials, clay and concrete tiles are suitable for homes with a Mediterranean or Southwestern style. They are durable and weather-resistant, providing strong protection against rain and snow.

Pros: Extremely durable, fire-resistant, energy-efficient, and aesthetically pleasing. They can last for over 50 years with proper maintenance.

Cons: Heavyweight, expensive, and installation can be labor-intensive.

5. Cedar Shakes and Shingles

Why it’s Ideal: Cedar shakes offer a natural, rustic appearance and are popular in areas with homes that have a classic or rustic design. They are durable and provide good insulation against cold winters.

Pros: Eco-friendly, energy-efficient, and offers natural beauty and durability. Cedar has natural preservatives that make it resistant to insects and decay.

Cons: High maintenance requirements, higher cost compared to asphalt, and vulnerability to fire unless treated.

6. Synthetic Roofing Materials

Why it’s Ideal: Synthetic roofing materials, like rubber or composite shingles, are becoming more popular due to their cost-effectiveness and resemblance to natural materials like slate or wood. They are lightweight, durable, and can handle Pittsburgh’s weather conditions.

Pros: Cost-effective, lightweight, low maintenance, and available in a variety of styles and colors. They are also impact-resistant, which is ideal for areas with occasional hailstorms.

Cons: May not last as long as natural slate or metal roofing, and the aesthetics may not appeal to everyone.

Recommendations:

For most Pittsburgh homes, asphalt shingles or metal roofing are the most practical choices due to their affordability, durability, and weather resistance. However, homeowners looking for a long-term investment or a historic aesthetic might consider slate or cedar shakes. Additionally, synthetic materials are an excellent option for those seeking a blend of affordability, aesthetics, and durability.

When choosing a roofing material, it's crucial to consider factors like the home’s architecture, budget, and long-term maintenance. Working with a professional roofing company like Buccos Roofing can help in making an informed decision based on specific needs and conditions.

#Pittsburgh roofing materials #Best roofing materials for Pittsburgh homes #Roofing in Pittsburgh PA #Durable roofing options Pittsburgh #Asphalt shingles Pittsburgh #Metal roofing Pittsburgh #Slate roofing Pittsburgh #Cedar shake roofing Pittsburgh #Roofing materials for cold climates #Energy-efficient roofing Pittsburgh #Affordable roofing solutions Pittsburgh #High-quality roofing Pittsburgh #Weather-resistant roofing Pittsburgh #Long-lasting roofing Pittsburgh #Residential roofing Pittsburgh PA

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unabashegirl · 3 months ago

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entangled 1 | one shot

Y/N, punished by her gang leader for a failed mission, meets Harry, a rival gang member, at a club. Their encounter turns intense and passionate.

Author's note: Hello everyone! I hope you are all doing well! Here is another one shot. This one was posted almost a month ago on Patreon. They've already gotten a chance to read it. The second part will be posted here and it contains smut.

warnings: violence, cursing, and more

check out my patreon and get full access to the second part (+4K words) and much more :) thank you beforehand!

if you would like to leave your request for the next one shot. do it here :)

masterlist

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The rain drummed steadily against the cobblestone streets of London, casting a sheen over the historic architecture. A heavy fog rolled through the city, shrouding the narrow alleyways and dimly lit corners in a ghostly haze. The occasional flash of neon signs reflected off the wet pavement, creating a kaleidoscope of colors that danced erratically in the puddles.

In the heart of this misty labyrinth lay a particularly desolate alley, where the rain seemed to fall harder, as if refusing to touch anything but the cold ground. Here, the sound of the downpour was a constant, rhythmic roar, drowning out the distant hum of traffic and the occasional wail of sirens. The alley was lined with old, weather-beaten buildings, their brick facades slick with rain and grime.

Y/N moved stealthily through the darkness, her footsteps muffled by the soggy pavement. Her breath formed small clouds in the chilly air, mingling with the fog that clung to the alley walls. The tension of the night was palpable, a sharp contrast to the usually vibrant London nightlife. She was deep within enemy territory, her senses heightened and her mind alert to every sound.

As she rounded a corner, the streetlamp’s flickering light revealed a shadowy figure ahead. Y/N’s pulse quickened, both from the adrenaline of being caught and the undeniable anticipation of their inevitable confrontation. The fog parted slightly, revealing Harry Styles, his silhouette a stark contrast against the faint glow of the lamp. He stood still, his posture rigid, his eyes scanning the alley as if he could see right through the mist.

Harry stepped forward, the lamplight catching the glint in his eyes. His lips curled into a smirk as he took in Y/N's determined stance. "I knew you couldn't resist" he drawled, his voice low and mocking. "Slumming it in our territory again, are we?”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, refusing to show any sign of intimidation. "Keeping tabs on me, Styles? Didn’t know I was that important to you."

Harry chuckled darkly, taking another step closer. "Important? Hardly. But you're predictable. Meeting with our clients, trying to undercut our deals...it’s pathetic, really."

Before Y/N could retort, three figures emerged from the shadows behind Harry. His men, loyal and watchful, forming a semi-circle around them. Their presence was a silent threat, a reminder of the precariousness of her situation.

Y/N tilted her chin up defiantly. “You need back up to deal with little old me?”

One of Harry’s men, a burly guy with a scar running down his cheek, snorted. “Can’t have him wasting time on someone who’s not worth it.”

Harry raised a hand, silencing his man with a single gesture. "Don’t worry, I can handle her," he said, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s. "Besides, this is entertaining."

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to let her fear show. "Entertaining, huh? Look up," she said, pointing to the roof above her.

Harry's eyes flicked upward, his smirk faltering slightly as he saw a figure perched on the edge of the building. The sniper, a man with a confident grin, waved down at Harry and his men.

"A little insurance policy, I see." Harry muttered, his tone darkening as he turned his gaze back to Y/N.

Y/N shrugged, her expression cool. "Can't be too careful. Figured you might try something stupid."

The burly man with the scar took a step forward, but Harry raised a hand to stop him. "Stand down," he ordered, his eyes locked on Y/N. "So, this is your game? Bringing snipers to a knife fight?"

"Just leveling the playing field," Y/N replied. "Or maybe you’re not as confident as you pretend to be, Styles."

Harry's smirk returned, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Oh, I'm confident enough. But I have to admit, you've surprised me tonight." Harry took a step closer, his voice low and dangerous.

"Glad to hear it," Y/N said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "But if you think a few threats and some muscle are going to scare me off, you’re in for a disappointment."

Harry's demeanor shifted, his eyes narrowing. "Cut the crap, Y/N. What are you really doing here territory? Who sent you?"

Y/N's smile didn't waver. "You think I'm here on someone else's orders? Please. I'm here because I choose to be."

Harry stepped closer, his voice low and menacing. "There’s a treaty, Y/N. Your gang stays in your territory, mine stays in ours. Or have you forgotten what it was like before we had that agreement? The bloodbath, the chaos?"

Y/N's expression hardened. "I remember. But treaties don't mean much when people are starving and desperate. Sometimes, you have to bend the rules to survive."

Harry’s eyes flashed with something between anger and grudging respect. "Survival. Is that what you call it? Sneaking into my territory, undercutting my deals?"

"Call it what you want," Y/N replied coolly. "But I’m not here to play by your rules, Harry. Not anymore."

Harry’s men shifted uneasily, sensing the rising tension. Harry glanced up at the sniper, then back at Y/N. "This ends now, Y/N. You tell your people to stay out of my territory, or next time, treaty or no treaty, there will be consequences."

Y/N stepped closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I’m not backing down. Not for you, not for anyone.”

For a moment, they stood there, inches apart, the rain pouring down around them, the fog swirling at their feet. The memories of the bloodbath they both wanted to avoid loomed over their confrontation, a silent reminder of what was at stake.

Harry’s jaw tightened, his eyes locked on hers. "I warned you. Next time, I won't be so lenient."

With that, he turned sharply, signaling his men to follow. They melted back into the shadows, leaving Y/N standing alone in the alley, her heart racing but her resolve stronger than ever. The rain continued to fall, washing away the tension but not the memory of their encounter. She knew this was just the beginning, and the next time they faced off, the stakes would be even higher.

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Y/N made her way through the rain-soaked streets, the adrenaline from her encounter with Harry still coursing through her veins. She navigated the labyrinthine alleyways of her territory until she reached a nondescript warehouse. Inside, the dim lighting and the smell of damp concrete provided a stark contrast to the chaos outside.

The warehouse was bustling with activity. Men and women moved purposefully, sorting through shipments, counting cash, and packaging drugs for distribution. The hum of machinery and the murmur of low conversations filled the air. Victor’s operation was large and well-organized, a testament to his cold, calculating leadership.

At the far end of the warehouse, a man sat behind a cluttered desk, his presence commanding despite his unassuming appearance. He was older than Y/N by nearly twenty years, with a cold, calculating demeanor that had earned him respect and fear alike. His name was Victor, and he had a reputation for being as ruthless as he was strategic.

As Y/N approached, Victor looked up from his paperwork, his piercing gaze settling on her. "You're late," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth.

Y/N nodded, shaking off the rain. "I ran into some trouble, but it's handled."

Victor's eyes narrowed slightly. "Did you make the deal with Sean?"

Y/N took a deep breath, recounting the details of her encounter. "I met with Sean. He’s fed up with Harry's control and wants out. He's one of their biggest distributors, and he’s willing to work with us if we can offer better terms."

Victor leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "And what did Harry have to say about this?"

Y/N hesitated, knowing that the next part of her report would not please him. "Harry knew I was there. He confronted me, tried to intimidate me. But I held my ground. He has no idea about Sean's intentions."

Victor's fingers drummed lightly on the desk, his eyes narrowing to slits. "You took a risk, going into his territory without backup. You could have jeopardized everything."

Y/N met his gaze unflinchingly. "I had backup," she replied, thinking of the sniper. "And it was worth the risk. Sean is valuable. If we can secure his loyalty, we weaken Harry significantly."

Victor considered her words, his expression remaining stern. "And you believe Sean is trustworthy? He reached out to us, but that could be a ploy."

"I trust him," Y/N said firmly. "He’s desperate, and desperate people can be useful. Besides, we’re offering him a way out. He has no reason to betray us."

Victor was silent for a long moment, his eyes studying her intently. “I hope you haven’t misplaced your trust this time."

"I haven’t," Y/N replied confidently. "This is our chance to hit Harry where it hurts."

Victor nodded slowly, a cold smile creeping onto his lips. "Very well. Continue working with Sean. But be careful. Harry won’t take this lightly, and he’s not someone we can afford to underestimate."

Y/N nodded, feeling a sense of determination. "’ll handle it."

Victor leaned forward, his eyes sharp. "Good. And Y/N?"

“Remember, loyalty is everything”.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, but she kept her expression neutral. "I won’t."

Victor dismissed her with a curt nod, returning to his paperwork. As Y/N left the warehouse, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the lines between duty and desire were becoming increasingly blurred. The rain had lessened to a drizzle, but the storm brewing was far from over.

They had met when they were just kids, newly initiated and eager to prove themselves. They hadn’t even turned eighteen yet, and the world of crime and rivalry was still new and intoxicating. The first time she saw Harry, he was standing in a grimy alley, his youthful face set with a determination that matched her own.

From the very first day, they were pinned against one another. Victor had always made sure to poison Y/N's mind, filling her with stories of Harry's ruthlessness and the cruelty of his gang. He painted Harry as the embodiment of their enemy, someone to be despised and defeated at all costs.

But despite the animosity Victor instilled in her, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the fire in Harry’s eyes. There was a spark there, a drive that mirrored her own. They clashed often, their encounters fierce and unyielding. But beneath the surface of their rivalry, there was an unspoken understanding, a recognition of kindred spirits.

Back then, Harry’s boss was a different man—cruel, ruthless, and feared by all. He ruled with an iron fist, and Harry was his protégé, learning the ways of their world under his harsh tutelage. The man was a constant presence in their lives, a looming shadow that dictated their every move.

Years passed, and the battles between their gangs grew bloodier. The streets were painted with the consequences of their rivalry. The turning point came when Harry's boss was killed in a brutal skirmish. In the chaos that followed, Harry emerged as the new leader, taking over with a resolve that was both feared and respected.

Victor had always kept Y/N close, grooming her to be one of his most trusted members. He continued to feed her a steady diet of distrust and hatred for Harry. "Never forget what he stands for," Victor would say. "He's our enemy. Always has been, always will be."

Despite the indoctrination, Y/N couldn’t shake the memories of their shared past. She remembered the way Harry had looked at her during their first encounter. It was a connection that neither of them could deny, even as they stood on opposite sides of a deadly divide.

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Y/N made her way to the hospital, after securing her payment and leaving the warehouse. The familiar ache of longing and love filled her chest as she approached the sterile, imposing building. This visit, a ritual she never missed, was the one thing that brought light to her otherwise shadowed existence.

Y/N hadn’t joined a gang at sixteen out of a desire for power or excitement. It had been a desperate measure, a necessary evil to secure the funds needed for her sister’s treatment. Her sister, Emily, was just ten years old and battling a relentless illness. The money Y/N earned through her dangerous work was the only thing keeping Emily’s hope for a future alive.

As Y/N walked through the hospital corridors, the stark white walls and the scent of antiseptic did little to soothe her. She navigated her way to Emily's room, her footsteps quickening as she neared the door. She took a deep breath before pushing it open, her heart lifting at the sight of her little sister.

Emily lay in a bed surrounded by beeping monitors and IV drips. Her face lit up with a bright smile as soon as she saw Y/N. "Y/N!" she exclaimed, her voice weak but filled with joy.

Y/N forced a smile, trying to mask the turmoil inside her. "Hey there, sunshine," she said, approaching the bed and gently brushing a strand of hair from Emily's forehead. "How are you feeling today?"

Emily shrugged, her smile never wavering. "A bit tired, but I’m okay. The doctors say I’m doing better."

"That’s great news," Y/N said, her voice soft. She sat down beside the bed, holding Emily’s small hand in hers. "I brought you something." She reached into her bag and pulled out a small, wrapped package. "Open it."

Emily’s eyes widened with excitement as she unwrapped the gift. Inside was a sketchbook and a set of colored pencils. "These are perfect!"

Y/N’s heart warmed at her sister’s happiness. "I thought you might like them. You can draw all the things you are going to do when you leave the hospital”.

Emily nodded enthusiastically, already flipping through the pages of the sketchbook. "The beach, the park, maybe even you and me together."

Y/N’s smile faltered for a moment, the weight of her choices pressing down on her. She quickly pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on the present. "I can’t wait to see your drawings."

They spent the next hour talking and laughing, the bleakness of the hospital room fading away in the light of Emily’s joy. For a little while, Y/N could forget about the dangerous world she was entangled in, finding solace in her sister’s company.

As visiting hours came to an end, Y/N reluctantly stood up. "I have to go now, Em. But I’ll be back soon, okay?"

Emily nodded, her smile unwavering. "Promise?"

"Promise," Y/N said, leaning down to kiss her sister’s forehead. "You just keep getting better, and we’ll have all the time in the world."

With one last look at Emily, Y/N turned and left the room, the weight of her double life settling back onto her shoulders.

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The air was thick with anticipation as Y/N and her crew gathered in a dimly lit alleyway. Victor had received intel that Harry’s gang was making a move to reclaim and prevent Sean from selling for Y/N’s gang. Harry’s gang planned to kidnap Sean, ensuring he couldn’t betray them. Y/N’s orders were clear: protect Sean at all costs.

The clash began in the shadows, a chaotic melee of fists, knives, and gunfire. The alleyway turned into a battleground, the sound of fighting echoing off the walls. Y/N moved with practiced precision, taking down opponents with a cold efficiency. Her senses were heightened, every sound and movement sharp and clear in her mind.

In the midst of the chaos, she spotted Harry, his presence unmistakable even in the dim light. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the world around them faded away. The fire in Harry’s eyes was as fierce as ever, matching the determination in Y/N’s.

“Y/N!” Harry shouted over the noise, his voice a mix of anger and something else she couldn’t quite place. “This ends now!”

Without another word, they lunged at each other. Their fight was intense, a blur of swift movements and exchanged blows. Harry’s strength was matched by Y/N’s agility, each anticipating the other’s moves with an almost instinctual familiarity.

Harry threw a punch that Y/N barely dodged, countering with a swift kick that caught him off guard. He stumbled back but quickly regained his footing, his eyes never leaving hers. The rain-soaked ground made their footing precarious, but neither wavered.

“You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that,” Harry growled, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip.

“Balls aren’t enough to survive in this world,” Y/N shot back, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

They continued to fight, each trying to gain the upper hand. Harry managed to pin Y/N against a wall, his grip strong and unyielding. “Why are you doing this, Y/N? Sean isn’t for you to take!”

Y/N glared at him, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. “This has nothing to do about Sean. I was given orders and I have to obey”.

Their fight resumed with renewed intensity, neither willing to back down. Around them, the battle raged on, the sounds of struggle blending into a chaotic symphony. Y/N and Harry were locked in their own private war, each move a testament to their skills and their conflicting desires.

Y/N swiftly drew the small knife she always carried with her. Realizing that the only way to take him down was to stab him, she knew she had to act fast. He was much bigger than her. She was strong, but not strong enough to overpower him without the blade.

Before she could make her move, Harry’s reflexes kicked in. He drew his own knife in a flash, and before Y/N could react, he had nicked her arm. A sharp pain shot through her as blood began to seep from the wound, staining her sleeve.

“You think you can take me down that easily?” Harry sneered, his eyes cold and calculating. “You’ve got a lot to learn.”

Y/N gritted her teeth, refusing to show any sign of weakness. She adjusted her grip on the knife, her mind racing for a strategy. The pain in her arm was a stark reminder of the danger she faced, but it also fueled her determination.

They circled each other, both on high alert. The rain continued to fall, making the ground slippery and adding to the tension in the air. Harry lunged forward, aiming for another strike, but Y/N anticipated his move, sidestepping just in time and slashing at him with her own blade.

Y/N’s arm throbbed, but she pushed the pain to the back of her mind, focusing on the fight. She managed to land a shallow cut on Harry’s side, drawing blood. He hissed in pain, his eyes narrowing with fury.

“Don’t make me hurt you.” Something had changed within Harry, and Y/N couldn’t quite put her finger on it. He looked deadlier, his eyes colder and more ruthless than ever before.

Harry was quick to land a blow on Y/N, knocking her to the ground. He wasted no time in picking her up, his strong hand gripping her neck as he pressed his knife against her throat.

Y/N’s heart raced with a mixture of fear and something else entirely. The pressure of his massive hand around her neck sent a thrill through her, mingling with her worry. She stared into his eyes, defiance and a flicker of excitement burning within her.

“Styles! Stop!” yelled one of Y/N’s most trusted men, his hands raised in a gesture of mercy. He noticed that Y/N’s feet weren’t touching the floor, suspended by Harry’s grip on her throat. “We’ll leave. Don’t kill her.”

Y/N’s face turned red as she struggled for breath. Every instinct in her body screamed at her to give up, the pressure making her feel like her eyes were about to burst from their sockets.

Harry’s grip tightened momentarily before he loosened his hold just enough for Y/N to gasp for air. His eyes remained fixed on her, cold and unyielding.

“Don’t test me, darlin' "

Part 2

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janitorhutcherson · 1 year ago

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finnick odair who was never in the games but instead is your average man who lives in a coastal city in california. he’s rough around the edges still, gruff, sarcastic, and cocky, but he is happy and free. he’s more soft spoken and his guard is let down more, but only around specific people. mostly only around you.

finnick odair who owns a fishing company called ‘odair fisheries.’ he spends most of his time out on a little sailboat he’s made up. he’ll spend hours out in the ocean, just him, a cooler, and his fishing rod. his golden tan skin is sunburnt in some areas from long exposure and lack of sunscreen, something you’d gotten onto him about ten times too many. his body is covered in little tattoos of seashells, sea turtles, boat anchors, small outlines of fish. a seashell necklace sits around his neck, homemade from your delicate and loving hands.

finnick odair who’d practically BEG for you to come fishing with him. you weren’t the biggest fan. something about sitting out in the searing heat all day on a rocking surface didn’t seem all that appealing to you, but when finnick would look at you with his big blue puppy dog eyes, his bottom lip sticking out, you couldn’t resist. if you were determined to deny his suggestions, he’d go even further, throwing in a desperate, “please, sweetheart, you know i hate being without you as is.” as always, you’d give in, not particularly loving the sweat dripping off of your forehead but loving admiring your partner in front of you. you loved the way his face scrunched up in focus as he cast the line, his eyes perched on a particular spot. you loved the way his muscles tensed as he reeled the line in, or the way he huddled over you when attempting to teach you how to fish for the hundredth time (once again unsuccessful, though you know he’d try again tomorrow).

finnick odair who also taught children to fish as a part of his company. on weekend mornings, he’d have different classes that would last about 30 minutes. at the beginning, he’d take a group of kids out to a dock near his boat and he would teach the basics. by the end of the block of classes, he’d have even kids as little as 5 out fishing on his boat with him. he loved the kids like his own, growing attached to each and every one of them. you loved watching him teach, seeing how he’d sweetly hug the little boy gripping onto his leg back or how he’d soothe the crying little girl who fell and scraped your knee. he’d get you involved in helping to wrangle the kids, too, watching you intently as you’d braid a little girl’s hair for her or cradle one of the youngest ones on your hip. finnick wanted kids more than anything and he wanted them with you, his mind going crazy, desperate for a little family with you every time he saw you with children. it’s safe to say finnick’s baby fever is crazy.

finnick odair who spends rainy sunday mornings with nothing else to do playing guitar hero and other various video games. as rain would pelt down heavily on the roof of the house, the waves rocking the boat a little too much for him to even dare to attempt the seas (although he had in unsafe weather one too many times for your liking), you’d be awoken far too early in the morning to the smell of freshly baked muffins (from a box) and the sound of some rock song on the tv mixed with plastic clanking. you’d trudge into the living room, fuzzy blanket wrapped around your cold shoulders, and plop down onto the couch where a muffin already awaited you with some warm coffee on the side table. you couldn’t help but laugh as you nestled into your corner on the couch, turning yourself into a nest of blanket. finnick would be going crazy with the guitar strapped around his neck, resting at his somewhat bare torso. he’d be jamming out in his underwear, hair tussled, eyes still puffy with sleep. his nimble fingers would click through the red, blue, green, yellow pieces as his piercing blue eyes focused on the screen. you couldn’t help but fall more in love with him as you begin to doze back off in your corner.

finnick odair who loves intimacy. it was something that didn’t come easy to him. although things were much simpler for finnick odair in this life than in the hunger games, he still had his guard up. you’d taught him how to be intimate, how to love and to feel love, how to share his feelings with more than just ‘i love you.’ at night, he would spoon you to sleep, hand always resting on your stomach from behind, nuzzled up as close as he could get. if he was holding you the other direction, he’d hold you close into his chest, resting his nose in your hair, taking in your scent. “you are my entire ocean, the sea breeze that makes the waves move, the crystal blue water, all the way up to the glisten in the sea, sweet girl,” he’d mutter into your ear. even when you were fast asleep, he’d still whisper sweet nothings into your ear. when you’d take showers, he’d carefully sneak in and slip in behind you, almost always causing you to fall, but he’d be prepared and catch you. he’d then tenderly wash through your hair for you, pressing little kisses to your shoulders. finnick loved and adored you and he’d do anything possible to show that.

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thefrogdalorian · 7 months ago

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Downpour

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Leading a solitary, nomadic existence for much of his life means that Din Djarin has never cuddled up to someone he loves during a rainstorm. Until one night in his cabin on Nevarro, when unseasonably poor weather introduces him to one of life’s simple pleasures.

Word Count: 1k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: One suggestive line, Din having nightmares mentioned ✯ Author's Note: I miss the Razor Crest but daydreaming about domestic fluff in the cabin on Nevarro scratches an itch in my brain in all the best ways. I really want to cuddle with Din Djarin during a rainstorm. Is it too much to ask?! Thanks to @decembermidnight for betaing this one for me!! 🩷

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

The roof of the cabin on Nevarro has never felt like the most sturdy part of the modest-sized dwelling you share with your riduur. Especially not in the middle of an unseasonably fierce rainstorm, the severity of which has you groggily blinking awake in the pitch blackness.

Your immediate concern is for the mischievous child you tucked in just across the hallway shortly after sunset. You hope that the rain has not disturbed him and that he remains bundled in blankets, surrounded in his crib by the mountain of plushies which have been either bought for him by you and Din or gifted to him by the various people throughout the galaxy who cannot resist how charming he is.

Mercifully, your sensitive ears do not detect any wails. So, with Grogu seemingly still sleeping soundly, you turn your attention to his father. When you do not hear Din’s soft snores beside you, you vocalise your concern.

“Din, are you awake?” you mumble without turning around to face him.

Din shuffles towards you and wraps his arms around your waist. With a wordless response, he squeezes you tightly. You realise that Din is drawing comfort from your presence. Your heart grows heavy as you realise he must be alarmed by the rainstorm.

“Are you scared of the rain, my big scary Mandalorian?” you question. It is an attempt to lighten the mood, without fussing over him too much. You know how much such playful teasing gets underneath his skin.

“I’m not scared,” Din huffs.

You turn over, raising your eyebrows at him questioningly.

In the darkness, you can barely make out his handsome features. There is a soft light from the hallway, and you can faintly see his brown eyes sparkling slightly, even in the low light.

The lack of light is not an issue. You have mapped every inch of Din's face with your fingers and lips well enough to know that he will be furrowing his brow at you, exposing the wrinkle above the bridge of his nose that you love to gently trace with your fingertips whenever it becomes pronounced in times of stress.

You reach up to touch the lines of his face, as though you can ease all of his worries with just your touch, “What would all those bounties you once collected think if they could see you now?” you muse.

Din guffaws.

“Imagine if everyone you struck fear into the hearts of with merely your presence could see you now? Maybe they would feel silly for ever being so scared of a man who is scared of a little rainstorm…”

“Riduur…” Din warns, voice deep and firm.

He can excuse the teasing about the past. You have held him through enough bouts of sobbing in this very bunk after the visions which haunt him in slumber have torn him from sleep to earn the privilege of lightly teasing him. When nightmarish sights of his past sins overwhelmed him, you were always there, dutifully picking up his pieces.

But Din Djarin will never accept a charge of cowardice.

You know he is not seriously scared. Din is no coward. And he knows that you would never seriously lay such a charge at his door.

“You know I’m only teasing you, handsome,” you say with a wink you hope he can see.

You realise that Din has never lived somewhere for long enough to hear the rain pattering on the roof. His covert cloistered in the caves of Concordia. The Razor Crest was home but never docked in one place long enough for it to truly function as such.

The fact that until now, Din has been denied the simple pleasure of listening to a rainstorm in the arms of one you love is yet another detail of his life which brings you anguish.

“I think it’s very sweet, actually," you whisper, hoping he knows you meant no malice, "It's our first proper rainstorm in this cabin," you add, ensuring that he knows you understand this is new for him.

Despite how much Din's past makes your heart ache, you will not wallow in pity for him. Instead, it strengthens your resolve to make sure Din is loved every moment of the eternity he has vowed to spend with you.

You lean in for a gentle kiss, “Roll over and let me hold you, my love,” you whisper against his plush lips.

Din sighs and then leans in to kiss you again before he complies. A touch so slow and sweet, so different to the frenzied way his lips claimed yours hours before. Satisfied, he agrees to your proposal, flipping over with a grunt.

You position yourself so your chest is flush with his firm back, placing a kiss on the centre of his back, between his broad shoulders. Din sighs in contentment. You smile, relieved you can comfort him like this. It is a privilege unique to you out of everyone in the galaxy.

You slip your hands underneath the soft cotton shirt he wears to bed and absentmindedly trace circles onto the warm expanse of his stomach. His body is firm beneath your fingers thanks to his muscular physique; but there is a hint of softness there, which increases each year as he ages.

You do not mind one bit. It only makes his body better suited to cuddles.

This warrior who once terrified everyone is now a little softer at the edges, his toughness gradually eroded by the love he feels for his son and you, his riduur.

"Thank you," Din sleepily mumbles before he drifts off again, no longer disturbed by the thudding of the rain against the roof.

Fierce independence borne out of trauma had meant that Din had never previously known the simple pleasure of listening to rainfall pattering against the roof. It was a new reverberation, one initially alien and alarming to his highly attuned senses.

Fortunately, Din was not afraid for long. Now, he has you to hold him through the storm. There is no more fear or anxiety as he cuddles with you, his riduur, while the sound continues outside.

You whisper, "I love you, Din," before sleep's comforting embrace takes you too and you join Din somewhere peaceful. Far away from the downpour.

Follow @thefrogdalorianfics for updates on my latest fics!

#din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fluff #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #my fics

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mogitz · 8 months ago

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Don't think about Lucien Vanserra witnessing the unspeakable: his world crumbling as the love of his life is ripped away from him and murdered right before his eyes. Don't picture his brothers holding him back, making him watch it all - every excruciating detail - as he's powerless to stop it.

Forget the image of him, broken and bleeding, dragging himself to the sanctuary of the Spring Court boundary, barely making it over the line before his knees give out beneath him. Don’t think about the emptiness that surely follows, nor the weight of his grief so heavy it's a wonder he could even stand to make it to safety in the first place. Don’t think about all the times on his journey he just wanted to give up altogether, but pushed on so that Jesminda’s death was not in vain.

Don't think about him having to turn against two of his own brothers, killing them in a twisted act of vengeance that feels nothing like the justice he sought. Resist the thought of him taking weeks, months, (years??) to mourn in solitude because Tamlin, though knowing loss to this magnitude as well, could not possibly navigate the depths of Lucien's grief. Thus, Lucien was left to weather his storm of sorrow and loss the same way Tamlin had weathered his own - alone - hiding away from a world that had taken everything from him

Don’t picture him upon the dawn-kissed roof of the Spring manor, where the dance of pinks and oranges and blues in the sky only seems to deepen his yearning for an Autumn forever lost to him. And don’t think about how in the Spring Court he has found some kind of solace... but never peace. How despite finding a home there, his soul remains restless, wandering, always running from the shadows of his past. Running from his future. Running from himself.

And please don’t think about how Lucien's gratefulness to Tamlin for giving him something close to a family results in a loyalty so profound that he'd walk into hell for him. Which he does - right into Amarantha’s clutches - only to come back less than whole, another piece of him stolen away.

That beauty he was known for? Gone.

Just like everything else.

Don’t imagine Lucien slowly piecing himself back together - inch by painstaking inch. Forget about the way he masters the art of sarcasm and humor, how he wields his wit like a shield to keep others at bay, to convince them, and maybe himself, that he's not hurting as much as he is. That beneath the quips and the easy smiles lies a well of pain and self-doubt so deep it's become part of who he is. That this levity he brings into every room is, in truth, the heaviest thing he carries.

And hey. Don't think about Lucien giving up any hope of being wanted, of being loved again. That his chance at having a mate, a true partner, was as dead as his former lover.

Or how, in a twist that must have amused fate itself, the Cauldron surprises him with a mate in Elain Archeron: his undeniable yet unwilling counterpart. How from nowhere, a bond snaps into place, redefining his destiny and sealing a connection that he'd long since given up on.

And don't think about how when Lucien's eyes meet Elain’s, somewhere beneath all the layers of loss and hurt and betrayal…. a spark of hope dares to ignite once more.

And then absolutely don't let your thoughts wander to his heart being trampled on, again, when he realizes that Elain - like everyone else - doesn’t want him. But at this point he’s not even surprised. It’s just another sharp sting in a lifetime's collection of disappointments and cruel irony. Don't dwell on how he's gotten so used to the taste of rejection and the feeling of being unworthy that he doesn't even think about trying to change her mind about him. Because, what's the point, right? Why bother when history has shown him, time and time again, that even just hoping seems to lead him to more pain?

Don’t think about how despite this, he still seeks her out just enough to show he’s willing to give it a shot if she is. How against his every instinct to protect himself, he keeps himself open to the slightest possibility of her, knowing it just leaves the door open to be hurt. And don't think about how every time Elain shies away from him, every time she looks through him or chooses to keep her distance, it just reinforces his walls, makes him retreat a little more behind his carefully constructed façade. Because facing that rejection head-on, acknowledging it, would mean admitting to himself that he's still holding onto a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, she could see past the surface. That she could want him, not despite of all he's been through, but because of it. That she could be the one to see him, really see him, and not turn away.

So, yeah, don’t go there. It's easier to laugh it off, to pretend it doesn't matter, than to face the possibility of another door closing in his face. Easier to keep up the act, to be the Lucien everyone expects - charming, sarcastic, unbothered - than to risk showing just how much Elain's avoidance cuts him to the core.

But don’t think about it.

Because acknowledging that Lucien's humor and charm are just his way of coping? That means seeing the depth of his loneliness, the real Lucien who's been hiding in plain sight, waiting for someone to care enough to look closer. And understanding that? It's realizing that beneath the façade, Lucien's just waiting for someone to prove him wrong, to show him he's worth the risk, worth the love he's convinced himself he doesn't deserve.

And Elain, with her quiet strength and her own hidden depths, might just be the one to see the real Lucien. To challenge the walls he's built around himself, if only he could believe, one more time, that he's worthy of being chosen, of being loved.

But perhaps Mor is right - they aren’t ready. And Lucien’s not sure he’s ready to gamble his heart on hope again. Not yet, anyway.

So, really, don’t think about it—unless you’re ready to root for them, to believe in the kind of love that could be their light at the end of a very dark tunnel. Because Lucien and Elain? They could be something epic, a testament to the power of second chances and the strength of a love that comes when you least expect it but most need it. That their path isn’t just about two people finding love in an unfair world that has taken the things they both hold dear; it’s a journey of coming back to life after being lost in the dark for far too long.

So yeah, just don’t. It’s a lot.

#elucien #lucien vanserra #thoughts #elain x lucien #elain archeron #acotar

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sports-on-sundays · 8 months ago

Text

us / OP81

Summary: Oscar x childhood friend!female!Australian!reader - 'She fell first, he fell harder' trope. You had a crush on Oscar for years but you never thought you and him would actually happen. Fluffy thing I'm banging out for his birthday.

Warnings: censored cussing

Requested?: No.

Author's Note: It's raining right now, so that kind of inspired this.

"Ugh!" you suddenly groan when you feel a raindrop on your arm. "You've got to be kidding me! I thought it wasn't supposed to rain for another two hours!"

"It's raining?" Oscar asks, looking up at the grey sky. "F*ck, you're right."

"Yeah! I hate the United Kingdom!"

He snorts. "I can't say I disagree."

"Weather sucks. Can't even go for a nice walk with my friend without it starting to rain halfway through it!"

"Want to turn around, then? Head back to my flat?"

You groan and nod. "Sure." The two of you begin walking, retracing your steps.

You're just celebrating his birthday late with him, spending some time, and plan to give him a little gift later.

"Getting chilly?" Oscar asks as you walk, amused. "And you were so sure earlier, before we left. 'Oscar, it's fine!'" he begins imitating you, "'The rain won't begin for another two hours! I'll be fine in just this!' You're going to freeze."

You sigh. Yes, it's true. You were stuck on wearing the orange papaya crop top you just bought for this date afternoon walk with Oscar. He kept asking you why you were so stuck on it, but of course you couldn't answer. Because then you'd be admitting to his handsome face that you like him, and that you want to impress him.

He's not very impressed right now with your foolish decision to not bring a jacket, and makes this clear as he mutters, "You're so weird."

You frown. Well, that's the opposite of your goal. You want Oscar to like you, not think you're weird.

But when he catches your eye, there's a teasing look to it. "But I don't mind you being weird. Just becomes a little annoying when I have to give up my jacket in order to keep you warm."

You stare at him as he grins, slipping off his black windbreaker/rain resistant jacket and lays it over your shoulders. He's wearing a long sleeve shirt under it, but still, you feel bad.

And you're definitely not cold anymore, as you're heating up with embarrassment by the sweet gesture from him. You slip your arms into the jacket, which is big on you, and smells like whatever cologne or laundry detergent or whatever he uses.

You look up at him, catching him staring at you, with a little smile on his lips.

He looks away.

"Wha-?" you demand.

"Nothing. It's just kind of big on you."

"Right."

Well, now it's awkward.

Oscar seems to make a point of always walking on the side of the street on the sidewalks. You're not sure if it's because it's specifically you, or if he would do that with anyone, but either way, you like it.

As you walk, the air seems to get more chilled, and the rain picks up. Suddenly, there's thunder in the distance, and you flinch.

Oscar looks to you. "Don't worry. That thunder is far off. We'll be home in no time."

You frown, not convinced. "Oscar, I don't know..." You tighten the hood of his jacket around your face.

"Hey," he says suddenly, meeting your eyes. Locking your eyes with his. "Don't worry."

"It's so rainy, Oscar... I'm raining so hard now..." you wipe a raindrop from your forehead.

Oscar seems to pick up your discomfort at the rain and fear of a potential lightning storm. He suddenly grabs your wrist (which gives you a bit of a rush) and pulls you up some stairs, so that you're standing under the overhanging roof of some closed business.

"Let's just wait it out here, then," he says simply, still not letting go of your wrist.

In fact, his hand just slips down a bit, so he's holding yours.

You stare at the ground. At your hands.

And you can't help but feel butterflies.

"Hey, uhm, Oscar?" you ask.

"Yeah?" he asks back.

But you don't know what to say, so you stay quiet, watching the rain with him.

"You're feeling okay?" he asks after a while.

You look up at him. Because of his jacket around you, you're mostly dry. His shirt is wet and hanging from him, and his wet hair is stuck to his forehead.

You reach up, and without thinking, ruffle his wet hair a bit.

He just laughs, saying, "What you doing?"

You shrug, smiling at him.

And then more silence. Other than the rain beating on every surface around you, there's not noise. Other than the two of you, standing here, alone but together, there is no one else around.

Suddenly Oscar says, "I've been thinking about something."

"What's that?"

"You."

You look up, just in time for Oscar to gently put his hand on your waist.

You blush bright red.

"You like me, don't you?" Oscar asks softly, searching your eyes for something.

"Y- Yeah..." you mutter, looking away from his eyes.

He smiles. "You're so shy. Look at me."

You force yourself to look back at him.

"How long?" Oscar asks. "How long have you liked me?"

You clear your throat. "Quite a while now. Like, years."

"Years?"

"Yeah... Like, since we were eighteen, maybe."

"Oh, wow..." he nods. Thinks for a few seconds. "I've been thinking about you and me lately. Like, you know. Us."

You blush at just that word.

Us.

It's something you want, and you have wanted for a while.

Suddenly he begins to whisper. "I've liked you for not as long... recently, I've just kind of realized, but I haven't been able to get it out of my head. I just... I love your hair, and your eyes... You're so pretty, and caring... I love your teasing and your sweet personality... You feel so perfect. Like, where would I be without you. You're just, like, the missing piece to my puzzle. It's like... like, all the sudden, I just kind of realized... it just kind of clicked..."

"What did?" you breathe.

He stares at you intently, not letting your gaze escape, even if it wanted to.

"The fact that I know that I love you."

Your mouth drops.

Your head swarms.

What? How?

You have always said you liked Oscar. You said you had a crush on him, and you'd love to date him. You'd say he's cute, and you get along with him. But never had you thought you needed him, or in someway, he was your second half. You never really thought you were actually meant for each other. Never had you though you would be someone else without him. Never had you...

Never had you even considered those words.

I love you.

He loves me, and he knows it.

Without a shadow of a doubt.

He smiles a little, his cheeks finally reddening a bit. "I guess I just figured, you know, today was the day to tell you. Celebrating my birthday and all, with you... Sorry it's raining, though. It would've have been nicer news if it were sunny, and I wasn't soaking wet, looking like a pathetic wet wild animal," he jokes.

You laugh out loud, still a bit nervous, but say, "I'd still like you, even if you always looked like a pathetic wet wild animal."

He grins a little, nodding. "I mean, you know. Maybe it would be a little bit more impactful on a lovely sunny day in Melbourne or somethin', sitting with you on a park bench, overlooking-"

You giggle. "Are you fantasizing?"

He blushes. "So what if I am?"

You grin. "Well, next time we're in Melbourne... you better bring me to the park and make that come true. Buy me some ice cream. Then we can go for a real walk, without having to go home halfway through because of a rain storm."

"And without having to stop because it gets too rainy, just for me to confess my love for you," he adds, still grinning back, but his eyes softening at the same time.

I grin and mutter, "I never imagined you to be the type to fall hopelessly in love."

"I'm not," he laughs, "but maybe you're just the type to do that to me."

"Well, maybe rainy London isn't so bad."

He chuckles. "Yeah. Maybe not."

Later, after you've made it back to Oscar's flat, you're sitting on his couch, waiting for him to finish changing into dry clothes and getting some snacks. He comes back in sweatpants and a hoodie, and sits down next to you, turning on some cricket on the television. He hands you the plate of snacks, and you both start munching as you watch the television, sitting a healthy-friend-distance away from each other.

But Oscar realizes this and says, "Come on, now. You can sit closer than that." He tucks his arm around your back, gently pulling you into him. You head naturally falls to leaning against his shoulder.

You smile and shut your eyes a bit, content. "This feels right," you tell him softly.

"Yeah," he breathes, "I agree. It does, doesn't it?"

"Oh!" you suddenly say. "I still haven't given you your birthday present yet, Oscar."

"Oh yeah..." he smiles, watching you.

You reach in the pocket of your jeans, pulling out a little box. You watch him nervously as he opens it and pulls out the bracelet. You say quickly as he studies it, "I know you're not really one to wear jewelry a lot like some of the other drivers on the paddock... But I thought maybe, just, like, a bracelet... to remind you of me... because... you know... I like, miss you when you're gone and stuff... I know it's dumb, but..."

"It's not dumb," he says immediately. It's a little leather woven bracelet, with your name on it, written in morse code.

He grins and slips it onto his wrist, pulling it tight. "This is so sweet. And thoughtful. I'll wear it every race weekend. All the time."

You giggle, leaning even more into him. "I like that. You're so sweet."

Suddenly, he gently takes your chin in his hand, staring deeply into your eyes. "Maybe we'll have to get you one, too, though, so we match."

"Yeah, with your name on it in morse code."

"Exactly... And, hey..." he strokes your cheek with his thumb. "Can I ask you something?"

You nod slowly, completely taken by the romantic look in his soft, brown eyes. "Of course."

"Mind if I kiss you?"

Your face flushes bright red, but you shake your head. "I don't mind at all."

"Good," he says, and leans in. And his lips meet yours.

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