#kinda regretting it because of the weather was so storming

[strawberryblue-blog]

Astraphobia —FC BARCELONA.

summary: How would you react to you having a phobia of storms/lightning/thunder?

warnings: none. fluff, cute, angst, sad, discomfort, etc.

words count: +1.2k.

#SEXYNOTE: kinda inspired by my own fear. I hope you enjoy it, love you ����💌

Pedri González.

He feels guilty when there are storms, because he enjoys them, while you suffer. He would quickly run to you and wrap you tightly, cradling you while whispering that everything is going to be ok.

For that reason he would be very close to you, holding you, hugging you, whispering random things in your ear, so he can distract you and help you.

He really doesn't like to see you like this, so small on the bed, covering your ears while loud booms fall from the sky, your tears and sobs make him sick. He feels he can't do anything else and that makes him angry so he won't move from your side until it's all over.

Pablo Gavi.

He doesn't like or dislike storms, let's say it's all the same to him. But after he found out about your phobia, he started to hate them. More because he knows they hurt you, he doesn't like to see you suffer so he will make sure to take care of you.

Before leaving home he looks at the weather forecast, he knows that so you can be safe. He doesn't want to leave you alone suffering. He would be very attentive to everything and if he is away from home, Gavi would come back quickly while he can.

His strong arms hold you, while you are under the blanket, cuddling. Your scares and jumps scare him, so he will hold you tight, if you cry he will tell you jokes, kiss your face, make noises, anything to distract you.

Ferran Torres.

He never met anyone with this fear before, he didn't even know it existed, but when you told her, vhe began to research it to educate himself and help you.

He has several techniques, like taking you to the shower, running you a hot bath and playing the music very loud, before the storm starts. Because if you hear a single rumble, you will collapse and he won't be able to get you up.

He also usually closes the curtains and turns on all the lights so that you do not see the lights, he would also make a homemade tent in the room where she would put lights, candles, food and anything for you. While cuddling and soothing you with his sweet words and touches.

Fermín López.

Although he likes storms, he prefers that they don't happen for your sake. He doesn't like to see you bad and understands your phobia.

He would be very attached to you, even if you want to look strong and try to overcome it, when you jump or scream, he will run to you. He will never let go of you, he wants to make you feel safe and loved, that nothing will happen to you when Fermin is with you.

He would accompany you to the therapist to help you overcome this fear and be your anchor, he wants you to feel good, he wants you to not have to hide every time it rains, he wants you to get out of that hole and be able to keep on living. He will be there for you always, no matter what.

Alejandro Balde.

At first it was hard for him to understand your phobia, he would see you disappear when the storm came and crawl under your bed without talking while you cried. He had no idea it existed and after your parents told him, he now understands you completely.

He got mad at himself for not asking you sooner and not helping you when it happened. Now he doesn't leave your side while you play chess on the floor.

He knows that chess distracts your mind so you can get through the storm faster, but when the rumblings get too loud, he will put you under his arms and cover you, while whispering beautiful things to you and kissing your hair.

Héctor Fort.

He thought it was kind of funny when you told him because he didn't know someone could have a phobia of storms but after hearing your trauma and understanding it, he regretted it.

He will be by your side when it happens, he will hug you while they are under the quilts, playing and tickling each other, trying to distract you from the noises.

He would carry you on his back to go to the kitchen or the bathroom while he covers you and takes care of you, you could watch movies, read, sleep, listen to music. Hector would do everything to protect you and keep you from suffering during storms.

Lamine Yamal.

If it were up to Lamine, he would fight the storms for you. He doesn't like it when something makes you feel so anxious, trapped and scared. He really hates it when you suffer and will do anything to take care of you.

From setting up a shelter in the bedroom, with fun things, movies, food, books and whatever it takes to keep you sane and not to worry.

He will help you get through it with therapy sessions, talk about your fear, try to face it to overcome it. He wants you to get through it but in the meantime he will protect you from everything.

Pau Cubarsí.

He's not going to lie to you, he's a little scared of storms too. But not the way you do because of your trauma. And he's aware of that, so he would try to support you in any way he could.

That's why, every time there's a storm, Pau gets more affectionate than usual. He will kiss you, hug you, hold you, anything to make you forget what's going on outside.

If he can't calm you down, he will play music at full volume and dance with you, all the songs you ask for and even teach you his master steps. You will jump, you will play, you will do anything to make your mind go blank. All night long he will be there for you, because you are special to him and he doesn't want anything bad to happen to you.

[dooblebugss]

as requested, I wrote up some of my more...not-nice headcanons. Content Warning for suicide idealation, injury, and food issues

Hornet:

I've mentioned before that she has some issues with food. Thanks to surviving in the apocalypse she has some issues with just...not eating. And when she does, she will cut her portion to give to others. She's the Protector, and as protector, her needs come last. (During the height of the infection she went days without eating and is fully ready to do it again if she feels she needs to.)

Speaking of her title as Protector, it's self appointed but comes with a ton of self-imposed expectations. She's a bundle of anxiety and fear and worry that something will happen to her siblings, her sort-of friends, and Dirtmouth. Honestly, you should go read "Etching of Storms Weathered" on ao3, it's perfect and beautiful

She hates how much she resembles the Pale King and not Herrah. She doesn't think highly of her appearance. She thinks herself kinda ugly tbh. Hornet tries not to let it bother her, but she's just as susceptible to self esteem issues

Hornet honestly thought that Tiso and Cloth were going to die. She treated them kinda poorly because of it, not wanting to bother getting attached to "fools with a death wish who regret their decision". Something she regrets, but isn't sure how to apologize.

Quirrel:

He came very, very close to just walking into the Blue Lake. He doesn't like talking about it.

As much as he loves the Archive, sometimes he has a hard time dealing with just...all of his coworkers and Teacher being dead. Sometimes he'll find bits and pieces written by Monomon, and it's always a little rough.

His amnesia is not fun to deal with. A good chunk of his life is just...not there. He's surprised when his age catches up to him, because he doesn't feel it until it happens

Hornet was too young to remember, but Quirrel does remember what the Kingdom looked like in its heyday, and it depresses him. He knows it was flawed and broken, but the memories always look better in his mind.

Tiso:

Phantom pains :))))) on bad days he can't even get out of bed. The brooding mawlek crushed all of him, but especially his left side. Some days it still feels like he can't breath right

He genuinely does not understand why Ghost saved him, and it kind of eats at him. Tiso was kind of a total dick, and he doesn't understand what Ghost saw in him.

Part of him is a little afraid to make new friends, after the death of his first ever friend (the one who he turned into a shield). He tries to push bugs away by being an asshole.

MAJOR inferiority complex. He wants to make a name for himself and stand above the crowd so so bad. He wants to be more than just 'a worker ant', and its why he went to the colosseum.

Cloth:

Phantom pains 2!!!!!!! Being literally skewered and all. On bad days she might literally cough up blood

She was 100% ready to die to Traitor Lord. However very close to the end she realized that would leave Ghost all alone, and she didn't want that. (Of course by the time she came to this conclusion, she got stabbed)

She misses Nola terribly. So much so she was willing to die to see her. Sometimes, when things are rough mentally, Cloth honestly considers it again...if only for a moment.

Hollow:

PHANTOM PAIN 3!!!!! Hollow was so monumentally fucked by their time in the Temple and with the Radiance. Vessels are sturdy, but it took Hollow nearly a month to recover even slightly. Hollow had a terrible crack in their mask (leaving them blind in their right eye), they were missing an arm, and a good portion of their abdomen had been caved in.

Hollow struggles with...a lot. Mentally. The lie they had to swallow for years about being a Pure Vessel, wanting to make their Father proud, wanting to save everyone and failing...it's a lot. And Hollow hates themself for it.

Hollow remembers Ghost as the little vessel they abandoned at the top of the Abyss...and they feel immense Guilt for it. Ghost seemingly has no hard feelings, but that only makes the guilt feel worse.

When especially upset - or when something might 'trigger' the behavior - they will instinctively revert back to how they used to act as the Pure Vessel: emotionless and needing commands to do anything. They might also fall back on old 'programming' the King gave them

[melonchanverse]

OC Questions On Friendship and Companionship : " Silver: Strength."  for Keitaro ☁️

FINALLY QUESTIONS FOR KEI.... i hope you like it jojie because miyako mention :)

if you wanna leave an ask - 🍤

What quality has forged the strongest bonds of friendship for your OC? Shared values or beliefs? Time spent together working towards a common aim? Complimentary skills or personalities? Or perhaps just absolutely hating the same things?

It's hard to say what exactly has forged the strongest bonds of friendship for Kei. He tends to form connections with people who somehow find his bad luck endearing rather than annoying. Sometimes people end up feeling protective of him, despite his tendency to attract accidents and misfortune. Whether it's the shared sense of frustration at the universe's constant attempts to knock him down or just a mix of sympathy and amusement, he often finds himself surrounded by friends who seem to find a unique charm in his unlucky nature. It's a kind of friendship that's built on the shared understanding that life is never predictable when you're around Kei.

Is your OC someone that their friends or companions can rely upon in times of difficulty? Are they a pillar of strength for others? Or do they depend upon others to meet their emotional needs, but find themselves unable to reciprocate in turn?

Honestly, Kei's not the most reliable person in the world. Between his bouts of bad luck constantly ruining his plans and his tendency to crack under pressure, it's doubtful that his friends would choose him as the go-to person in a crisis situation. He's more likely to be the one needing support than providing it. But somehow, his friends see past his flaws and accept him for who he is. Maybe it's because they find his constant bad luck kind of endearing (Miyako for sure).

What has been the greatest test of their friendship with a close companion or ally? Did the relationship survive this? If so, then what helped in repairing that connection? If not, then did they let the friendship go without regret?

So. His the most close friend for some time was only… Miyako. Yeah. And the greatest test of their friendship for Kei came during a particularly disastrous science experiment. Kei, in his typical clumsy fashion, managed to accidentally create a chemical explosion in a lab, destroying all their Miyako’s research data. Miyako, who was working on a project with him, was kinda sad and furious. Kei, being the magnet for accidents that he is, was devastated that one reckless mistake cost him a friendship. Surprisingly, Miyako eventually forgave him after a heartfelt apology and a promise to be more careful in the future. Now, they look back on that incident as just another chapter in their weird friendship.

How strong are the bonds of friendship for your OC? Do their platonic relationships always rank lower in importance than their romantic partnerships or their family loyalties? Or do they have a friend with whom they have forged a bond deeper than blood or romance could ever equal?

If there's one thing consistent about Kei's luck, it's the resilience of his friendships. Whether it's the seemingly unbreakable bond with friends who laugh at his misfortune or those who secretly offer him support on his bad days, Kei somehow manages to form strong connections with a unique flair. While he may stumble in every aspect of his life, his friends' loyalty remains unwavering. It's almost as if their bond can weather any storm, including his perpetual accidents and blunders. So, no, his platonic relationships are just as important as the rest, even though they can be a bit chaotic.

Does your OC draw strength from the thought of their friends? Do they sometimes push themselves onwards for the sake of their companions - or in memory of the sacrifices of others - when they would otherwise give up and accept failure? Or do they see themselves as uniquely capable or responsible, regardless of what others may or may not have done?

Surprisingly, Kei does find strength in the thought of his friends. Despite his bad luck constantly bringing him down, he often draws motivation from the support of his companions. There are times when the thought of disappointing them or letting them down acts as a powerful driving force, helping him to keep moving forward even when the odds are stacked against him. His friends' loyalty and faith in him serve as a constant reminder that he's not alone in his struggles.

[rudikawhy]

Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Season Two

While watching season two, I took some notes of my thoughts. I only started on S02 E09 so before that there isn't too much.

Sorry, this is going to be mostly Fitzsimmons but you can't really blame me, because it's THEM

But first, two last things for season one "I couldn't live if you didn’t" "Well, I feel the same way. There has to be another way." "You're taking it" "Why would you make me do this? You're my best friend in the world!" "Yeah, you're more than that, Jemma" seems to now live in my head

Also the desperation and intensity in Jemma's voice, while Fitz's is so calm and kinda trembling, but both are absolutely heartbreaking in their own ways

But now to season two:

Fitz having trouble with words is both absolutely adorable and heartbreaking

Bobbi reminded me at first of the person (?) from Asgard who helped them get Lorelei

I am curious why Hunter says that his ex-wife was so horrible because so far, I love Bobbi

I just can't shut up about Fitz. But no-one I know in real life would know what the hell I'm talking about, so I just think about him and write about him

(S02 E03) When Jemma wakes up by the sound of her alarm and the song started playing, I thought "Hold on, I know that song", and yes, I love "God help the Girl"

Also it's kinda ironic because it says "God help the Girl, she needs all the help she can get" just as she steps into the lift which brings her to her work at Hydra

(S02 E04) Hunter: "Guys, drop everything!" Fitz: "No, this is worth a fortune. I'm not gonna drop it."

(S02 E07) "Would anyone like to leave before we get started" I would have raised my hand too

(S02 E09) Mack: "A Storm's coming" - Fitz: "No, weather's fine, actually. There's not a cloud in the sky. I checked."

[Jemma knocks on table] "That's not wood, is it?"

Why is literally any conversation Fitzsimmons have killing me? The "I can work for you, I just can't work with you"? I beg your pardon? How am I supposed to accept that?

"Come home, Jemma" (S02 E11) HQ's their home :D

Fitz's hands trembling :(

(S02 E12) This moment when you recognize the face of the woman that came from the ocean but can't recall WHO it is (Lady Sif)

Fitz seems so left out when Jemma tells him about them changing the ICER

Why is Jemma saying "Sir, the boys were right" so funny to me?

Nooo, Coulson said "Fitz and Simmons", they're no longer one and the same

I mean I agree that it wasn't right that Fitz lied to the rest of the team about Skye but please, can Fitzsimmons just be at least friends and work together

(S02 E14) Jemma: "Oh, Fitz!"; Fitz: "Well, don't 'Oh, Fitz' me!" - I kinda waited for him to say that

I am so confused by this whole "real S.H.I.E.L.D."

"No, it's not that. You're afraid 'cause of what happened to me and Skye, how we both changed. But you know what the scariest change is, Jemma? It's you." You know what? At this point maybe I don't want them to talk at all anymore, if every time they do, I just sit there and think "Why are you doing this to each other?"😭

(S02 E15) "I told you, Leo,[...]" Okay, Jemma, this doesn't feel right, calling him by his first name, I regret asking in the first place

I am REALLY confused by the real S.H.I.E.L.D.

I'm glad that even Fitz puts the USB in the wrong way at first

Did Fitzsimmons finally make up when sitting on the ground by the table when "real S.H.I.E.L.D" attacked?

(S02 E16) Don't do this to me, Jemma, don't say you want Fitz off the plane!

Don't leave Jemma alone, Fitz!

Okay, I've changed my mind. Apparently there was a plan behind Fitz leaving that I didn't catch. ("Nice work, Jemma")

Also: Proscuitto + Mozzarella, Be Safe! Love, Jemma 🥲 - The world's most dangerous sandwich is back

I know it's actually a bit late but I have honestly no idea what S.O. means (I suppose it doesn't mean Significant Other) (Rewatching parts of season one reminded me - Supervising Officer)

I really want to like Bobbi (and I still do) but I am afraid I won't much longer

(S02 E17) I kinda like Lincoln

Skye telling the story about not being anywhere longer than two years despite being 25 (or actually 26) actually brought me to tears

Okay, THAT I didn't expect. That this was Skye's mother

"The Girl. I couldn't save her" I didn't know May could make me cry

I thought that when Fitz was in that public bathroom with Coulson's cube (I forgot the name) that Ward was outside knocking and I already saw Fitz getting captured

(S02 E18) That was quite a run, Fitz, I would have been fallen down at least five times (not to mention my lack of stamina), three times alone on the stairs (I know that others have run more and under different circumstances but still)

I feel for Fitz, rocking his leg, I totally understand

Don't you dare, Ward, talking to Fitz!!

Grateful for Coulson's and Hunter's quick reaction

(S02 E19) Was it worth it, Ward? Betraying S.H.I.E.L.D. for leaving Hydra again like half a season later?

I'm glad Fitzsimmons finally talk to each other again like normal people

"Mistakes were made..." - "By you" "...and people got hurt..." - "By you"

No, I'm not okay. "Be careful, Jemma"😭

"So, how does this work? You just click your heals together and whisper, "There's no place like home"?" Is this a S.H.I.E.L.D. director thing? Quoting The Wizard of Oz?

One moment I really like Skye's mother and ten seconds later I can't stand her

(S02 E21) this whole show is confusing me. Who's on whose side?

Now Gordon too!?

Leave Bobbi alone!!!!

I'm not sure if I like Lincoln anymore

(S02 E22) Nooo, Bobbi!

That's what you've got, Ward! Now your girlfriend's dead

"There's nothing to discuss, Jemma" - "Maybe there is"😢😢 I can't with them

"Science, biatch" I actually squeak-laughed

"We're not bad, we're misled" Aaaaand I like Lincoln again

I need someone asking me out the way Fitz did, asap

I mean I knew what was about to happen to Jemma (I saw a GIF somewhere) but fuck, with sound and context it hurts SO MUCH MORE

Okay, that was it with season two. I know I need to step down a little bit with how many episodes I watch daily (because season two has only been six days), but no matter how much I know that, I just can't stop. But enough with this talk.

It was fun doing this, I think I'll do it again with season three.

[vincentmatthews]

Getting To Know Me~♡

🌱Tagged By:

@timaeusterrored 💕 I live rent-free in their ask box and they allow me to bother them constantly about their characters. I should get the guts to dm them to try and make friends but I'm scared I'll come off as weird so I just live in their questions.

Translation: *BARKBARKBARK*

🌱Favorite Color:

Baby blue, Sunflower yellow, and Neon orange

🌱Currently Reading:

Co-writing/Roleplay -> Humiliation with @crimsonixx We've been keeping that discord channel active since Nov 28, 2021

Book -> I'm Glad My Mom Died. I've heard great things of this book and decided to pick up a copy to read on my road trip this weekend. {Granted I don't get car sick and end up with my face in a plastic bag 90% of the ride.}

Other than that, nothing much, I need to sit down and read You Regret Me. Maybe I'll pick it up this coming weekend so I have something to read while we drive down to Nevada. Even if I have to screencap the pages and read it through my gallery.

🌱Last Song:

{Link}

🌱Last Movie:

I did a double feature which were: Juno {it's become a comfort movie} and Napoleon Dynamite {it's nostalgic}.

🌱Last Series:

I don't know if podcasts count, and if so, then it's gotta be Distractible on Spotify {now with video episodes! :3}

As for TV shows, the last series I watched was the original older episodes of SpongeBob because they were nostalgic as fuck. Like Krusty Krab pizza episode, that's top-tier work right there.

🌱Sweet, Savory, or Spicy?

All, I'm not picky. But Salty and Sweet is amazing~♡ Like a salted caramel~♡ {Do y'all pronounce it as Car-mel? Or like Cara-mel?}

🌱Craving?

A beat up John Wick so I can run him a hot bubble bath, give him face kisses, and cover him in Hello Kitty Band-aids. Also someone get my man two wolves as pets.

🌱Tea or Coffee?

I love a good London Fog~♡ Sadly, I have a more Caffeine lean as of late. And nothing tastes better than a good ol' cuppa joe in the mornin'.

🌱Currently Working On:

Fanfic/Small depressing story -> Summer Rain, which is a sequel to another writing I'm not done with. Summer Rain goes more into Vince losing his sensation of touch and registering the difference between hot and cold. It leads more into why he left in the middle of the night. Which is where my first one picks up.

Fanfic/Requested Story -> I Don't Want To Live Forever. I posted a small WIP section of this before. It's a small ship story for @crimsonixx with their O.C. Jess and Johnny. It's a wholesome story where they drive around NC on her bike late at night, enjoying each other's company. It's one of the times Johnny shows his more sensitive and "human" side.

Fanfic/Special Writing -> Small gift writing between my OC Vinessa/Vinny and another user's OC. I won't give too much away since they don't know I'm writing it. My favorite section so far is Ker screaming at Vinny from the upstairs bedroom window.

I have a whole lot more that I'm working on. I kinda bounce around from writing to writing. 90% of the time they get finished, it just takes a while. The other 10% get locked away and never see the light of day. :3

🌱Random thing about me:

♡I love bees and honey.

♡My favorite comfort game is Slime Rancher and Firewatch💕

♡I'm 5ft 5in. But I wish I was 6ft 1in. I feel short. >:(

♡My favorite type of weather is summer thunder storms

♡My favorite fruit are strawberries and watermelon.

♡I have a jack-shit named Buddy. :3

♡My favorite horror movie is Scream because Matthew Lillard is a babe~♡ {Side note: I'm so excited for FNAF because Matthew's going to be in it x3 It's about time our Scream Daddy was in another horror movie~♡}

♡I've stayed in a haunted hotel before~♡

♡My favorite holidays are Halloween and Christmas 💕

♡My passions are cooking and writing~♡

🌱Tagging:

@crimsonixx and whoever else has seen this, and hasn't already participated, consider yourself tagged💕

[shecantsim]

A week later, Mirai and Azami moved out to start their own lives and family. The rest of the family decided to go on vacation to Sulani.

[onceuponastory]

summer storms - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: Y/N’s grandmother always told her summer storms help clear the air. After an argument with Bucky, she’s about to find out that her grandmother may have been right after all. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of arguments if that kinda thing makes you sad. But there’s a happy ending because it’s me. Notes: Does it still count as a summer fic when I’m posting it the week before the last week of August, hahaha? In my defence, I started this last year and only finished it now. It’s slightly shorter than my usual fics, but I hope you like it.

One warm, summer day, Y/N and Bucky Barnes’ apartment is full of noise. The air is sultry, both with the temperature and with Bucky and Y/N’s furious words towards each other. If you had asked either of them how their argument started, neither of them could actually tell you. Maybe it’s the constant warm weather making them restless and irritable, or Bucky’s lack of sleep because of being away for months on another mission. Regardless of how the argument started however, this one is different. Of course, they have both argued before. But this one is bigger than any other. It’s one of those arguments that starts small, over nothing and spirals into something huge. Something that isn’t as easy to come back from.

“You know what, Bucky? If you’re not happy, just go. I won’t stop you.” Y/N shrugs.

“So that’s it? You’re giving up on us just like that?”

“When the fuck did I say that? All I’m saying is if you’re so grumpy you can’t talk to me like a human being for five fucking minutes, maybe go take some time to chill.”

“Fine! I will.” He announces, storming towards the door and flinging it open.

“Fine! Do it-” Y/N is cut off by the sound of her front door slamming as Bucky leaves. “...See if I care.” She mumbles, her voice now a whisper compared to the anger from only a few minutes ago. She stands watching her door for a few moments, frozen in place as the guilt washes over her. Because this was one of those big arguments that you regret as soon as it finishes. When it’s clear Bucky won’t come back in, she sighs, gritting her teeth. “Fine. Who needs him, anyway? It’s not like I’m going to miss him or anything. He can stay away for all I care.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

The rain comes almost as soon as Bucky leaves. It’s torrential and persistent, much like Y/N’s bad mood. The mood that’s gotten worse and worse with every passing day without Bucky. Thankfully, Sam texted her a few hours after Bucky left to say that he was crashing on his couch for a few days until they both cooled down, so at least that means he’s okay. Originally, she was angry, and glad he left...but now all she wants is to see him again. Because she messed up badly, and now she misses him more than anything. She sent him a text apologising that morning, but given that her phone hasn’t chimed since then, he hasn’t replied yet.

Y/N stands in what used to be her and Bucky’s bedroom. She stares out of the window, watching as the rain pours down, soaking the ground and causing Y/N’s favourite smell, the smell of rain, to rise.... Well, her second favourite smell. Her favourite smell is the smell of Bucky’s cologne, a smell she’s tried desperately to find since he’s left. She’s even sniffed the shirts he’s left in their apartment, savouring the tiniest traces of him he left behind. Sighing, she watches as the rain hits the pavement and people scurry out of its path. Whenever it rained when they were out, Bucky used to give her his jacket as a shield from the rain. Sighing, she glances down at a picture of her and Bucky on the wall. She misses him with every waking moment. She still can’t even remember what their argument was about. Probably something stupid. This whole thing is stupid. If only things had been different. She should have made him stay. If only she had fought harder for him. Sighing, she shakes her head, trying to clear those thoughts from her head. He’s gone, and there’s nothing she can do now. 

The sound of thunder cuts her thoughts off. A storm’s coming. Her grandma always used to love a summer storm. She always swore that they’re useful, because they clear the air and allow things to start fresh. Whether Y/N actually believes that, she’s not entirely sure. But she’s not sure of anything right now...except how much she misses Bucky. Of course, she could just call him...but she’d honestly rather die than do that. Even though she wants Bucky back with every fibre of her being, she’s too scared to phone him back, in case he doesn’t feel the same way, and doesn’t want to see her ever again. After all, he ignored her text, so he’ll probably ignore her call too. “Dammit.” She hisses, feeling tears stinging in her eyes. “Stupid Bucky. Stupid love. Stupid....fucking rain!” She exclaims angrily.

And then...a knock sounds at her door. Then another, and another. Whoever is behind the door is clearly in a rush. "Alright, alright, I’m coming.” She sighs, rolling her eyes and walking towards the door. “Jeez, calm down, I’m-” She opens the door, and her words stop in her throat as soon as she sees who’s behind the door. “Bucky?” she gasps.

Bucky looks up at her, his blue eyes filled with tears. His hair and clothes are drenched, and raindrops run down his face and his metal arm. “I...I...” He stammers. “I need to talk to you. There’s something I need to say to you.”

“Do you want to come inside? You’re soaked. I can make some tea.” She offers, standing aside a little, but Bucky shakes his head.

“I’d, um, rather do it out here if that’s okay.” Y/N nods, still a bit confused about what’s going on. Bucky clears his throat and starts talking. “I’m here to apologise. I was out of line when we had that argument, and I’ve regretted it ever since. I’m so sorry. Can...can we talk?” With a small smile, Y/N nods.

Maybe what her grandmother said about summer storms is true after all.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Just a reminder that I don’t do taglists anymore so please follow @onceuponastory-library​ and turn on notifications to be notified when I post!

[splinteredbone]

heatwave

masterlist / navigation / @splinteredmercies

pairing: eddie munson x reader

contains: no spoilers for s4. plus size!afab!reader. pure fluff. profanity. not edited, we die like men!

wc: 0.7 k

author's note: inspired by how my room is always five/six degrees hotter than the rest of my house. i wrote this plus size!reader one shot kinda for me but I GUESS y'all can read it. jk i love y'all please enjoy this becaus4e i had too much fun writing this.

Dress-coded. A-fucking-gain.

A heatwave was upon Hawkins. The hotter weather made you crave popsicles and their sugary taste, and you donned fewer layers. Everyone was wearing fewer layers, yet you were the one dress-coded for excessive amounts of cleavage.

What were you supposed to do with your breasts? Fucking remove them? I wish…

This happened every year without fail, but this time you had enough. You refused to put on sweatpants and a hoodie because this was your fucking body, and there was nothing the stupid Hawkins High School faculty could do about it except send you home. Which you gladly did. But it didn’t stop you from storming down the hallways of the building, and nearly knocking someone down in your haste.

“Woah there, sweetheart. Are you skipping?”

You paused and turned toward the recognizable voice. You sighed, trying to calm yourself down before addressing Eddie Munson. It wouldn't be fair if you took it out on him. He wasn’t responsible for dress-coding you. Plus, you barely knew him except for the midnight trips to buy weed with your friends. (That didn’t stop you from thinking he was attractive.)

“Sorry, Eddie.” You inclined your head in greeting and smiled apologetically. You shifted your backpack to your other shoulder. “And, no, I’m not skipping. I got dress-coded, I’m leaving instead of changing into a hoodie or whatever the fuck. It’s too hot for that shit.”

“Dress-coded? For what?” Eddie’s voice held the same indignation as yours.

“Excessive amounts of cleavage!” You huffed and crossed your arms. “Can you believe it?”

You caught how Eddie’s eyes followed the movement and his gaze fell upon your boobs—perfectly showcased in the tank top you were wearing. Not that it was your intention, but now, you were internally praising God for bringing the heatwave, letting you get dress-coded, and putting Eddie Munson on your warpath.

You cleared your throat. “Eyes up here, Munson.”

He flushed, and it made you laugh the slightest bit. With your mood lightened up, you continued walking.

Eddie followed you. “Do you still walk home?”

“Yeah, still do.” Your brain registered how he phrased the question, and you glanced at him, bewildered. “Wait—still? How did you know I walk home?”

He sputtered, and you heard something about sometimes seeing you crossing the parking lot. Finally, he seemed to regain his ability to speak. “Well, do you want a ride or what?”

“Yes! You’re a lifesaver, Eddie Munson.” Your declaration was followed by the inane urge to kiss him on his pretty mouth. You felt your hand twitch as you followed him out to his van.

“Are you sure you don’t want to be seen with me?” Eddie sounded like he was joking, but there was an undertone that made you think otherwise.

“I couldn't care less what anybody says. Everybody at this hellhole takes high school so seriously. Sure, it’s four years of your life. But compared to the average life expectancy? That’s, like, seventy-five years.” You faltered, recognizing you were about to go on a tangent. “Sorry, I’m talking too much. All these people—it just seems so… frivolous.”

“Frivolous?” Eddie echoed as he pealed out of the parking lot.

“I pay attention in English, Munson!”

He chuckled and then said. “Don’t apologize for talking too much. I like listening to you talk.”

“You’re going to regret saying that, Munson.” You looked out the window, trying to smother the large grin on your face. Emboldened, you turned toward him. “Wanna go out? You can hear me talk all you want.”

“Like a date?” Eddie’s eyes flickered between you and the road ahead.

“Yes, silly!” You fought back a giggle. “How does right now sound?”

“Right now?”

“You don’t have to,” you assured Eddie. “We can get burgers or something. It’s right about lunchtime anyway. I’ll pay?”

“No! You don’t have to pay, I’ll pay,” Eddie rushed to say.

“So, that’s a yes?”

At Eddie’s formal confirmation, you squealed. From the looks of it, getting dress-coded was becoming one of the best things that ever happened to you, especially when you noticed Eddie was blushing.

(Now, what do I have to do to find out how far down that blush goes?)

[bibbawrites]

What Happens in Hawaii Stays in Hawaii - Charlie Gillespie x Reader (SMUT - 18+)

Request: could you do a fic with reader and Charlie where they are bffs and he brings her on the Hawaii trip but something weird in the system happened so their shared hotel room only had one bed instead of two and a whole smut ensues

Word Count: 1583 words

Summary: a simple mistake leads to confronting feelings for your best friend Charlie that you had previously tried to keep hidden

Warnings: smut (duh), slight dirty talk, swearing, unprotected s*x

A/N: this ended up being so weird and slightly uncomfortable but for some reason no matter what i did i just couldn’t make this serious lol hope you all enjoy this either way :) 

Tag List:  @happinessinthedarkesttimes​ @littlemissaddict @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @headheartbellarke @lovesanimals​ @bartok-the-bat @juliefromaustralia @multi-universe21 @rangerelik @kaitieskidmore1

It was the most cliche scenario in the book. You had agreed to join your best friend Charlie on his trip to Hawaii with his cast mates, and somehow there had been a mix up and instead of having two beds in the room you were sharing with Charlie, there was only one. 

Which would be perfectly fine, except for the fact that you were harbouring a crush the size of Jupiter on that same best friend you would be forced to share a bed with for the next few weeks. 

“You’ll be fine.” Carolynn reassured you after you had finished ranting about the mix up, as the two of you and Tori laid on sun loungers as the boys wrestled in the ocean. 

“You sure about that?” You questioned. “You don’t even know the worst part.” 

“That you’re in love with Charlie?” Tori asked. Your eyes widened. 

“How did you know?” You spluttered. She grinned. 

“Y/N it’s obvious. Just like it’s obvious he feels the exact same way about you.” She explained, and you cringed. 

“Do you think he knows?” Tori and Carolynn shook their heads. 

“Trust us, he’s just as oblivious as you are.” Carolynn teased, and you pouted. 

“I’m not oblivious.” You muttered and the girls giggled. 

“Sure you’re not.” Tori said, as they exchanged a knowing look. 

You sighed, leaning back onto your chair and shutting your eyes. It wouldn’t be that bad. 

-

If there was a competition running for famous last words, you would definitely get a prize for saying it wouldn’t be that bad. 

Watching as your best friend, the boy you had been in love with forever, entered the room with only a towel around his waist, body still wet from his shower, you sure regretted saying that it wouldn't be bad because clearly you had temped some kind of fate. 

You tried to ignore him, deciding that the best plan would be to just focus on the TV, but Charlie had other plans. 

“Do you want me to sleep on the floor?” Charlie questioned, running a towel through his wet hair. You swallowed as you looked back over at him, and shook your head, trying to ignore the droplets of water running down his chest.

“No it’s fine, we’ve shared a bed before.”

“Okay.” Charlie nodded. He ran the towel down his chest and you tried to focus your attention back on the TV in front of you and not the dripping wet, very attractive, half naked boy across the room.

Charlie crossed the room, grabbing his clothes from a pile, and without a second thought, dropped the towel from around his waist.

“Charlie!” You exclaimed with a choke, your face going bright red as you try to look anywhere but your completely naked best friend. Charlie just laughed.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before. Remember when we were kids and we used to take baths together?” He said cheekily. 

“Yeah when we were like 7. Not fully grown adults.” You replied.

“So? You’ve seen a dick before, right?” He asked. You rolled your eyes.

“Yes, but that’s not the point.” You mumbled. Charlie didn’t move.

“Dude! Just put your fucking pants on.” You exclaimed. Charlie shook his head, finishing drying himself off before throwing his towel at your head.

He pulled a pair of sweatpants on before flopping down on the bed next to you. You looked at him and he looked up at you with a smirk.

“Enjoy the show?” He teased. You flicked the towel at him as he laughed loudly.

“No you asshole.” You muttered.

“Oh yeah? Then why are you so turned on right now?” He questioned. You blushed even darker.

“I’m not.” You denied. Charlie raised an eyebrow.

“You sure about that?” He sat up, moving closer to you so that you could feel his hot breath on your lips. Your heart was racing.

“Charlie, what are you doing?” You managed to stutter out.

“You can feel it too, right? The tension between us?” He questioned. You didn’t respond so he continued. “The same tension that’s been around for years. I don’t know about you but I’ve been feeling it since we were just kids. I’ve been in love with you since I was 12.”

You froze at his confession.

“You what?” Your voice was shaky.

“I’m in love with you.” He repeated. You threw yourself towards him, connecting your lips with his in a heated kiss.

“I love you too.” You told him. He groaned, flipping you over so that he was hovering over you.

“Do you want to fuck me as bad as I want to fuck you?” His voice was low.

“Please.” You whimpered, and Charlie connected your lips again, his hips grinding down into yours. You moaned into his mouth, allowing him a chance to slip his tongue into his mouth.

“Char.” You groaned, your hands threading through his damp hair.

“You want me to fuck you?” He repeated, mumbling against your lips. You nodded eagerly. He pulled away from your lips and began to kiss down your neck, biting and sucking to leave marks that you knew you were going to struggle to cover in the next few days.

He pulled away, sitting up, watching as you pulled your oversized shirt off, leaving you in just panties. His eyes lingered on your naked chest for a few seconds before he looked back up, his eyes meeting yours.

“Do you still have that thing in your arm to stop you from getting pregnant?” He questioned. You nodded.

“Good, cause I don’t have a condom. Wasn’t really expecting to fuck my best friend on this trip.” He admitted. You laughed, pulling him back down to kiss him again.

His hands made their way up to cup your breasts, his calloused thumb flicking over one of your nipples.

You whimpered again as he moved to suck on your nipple, his tongue flicking at the sensitive skin.

“Can you hurry up and fuck me?” You said, and Charlie chucked.

“Impatient much.” He teased, but he obeyed nonetheless, moving to pull off his sweatpants. You copied, pulling off your panties, and all of the sudden it hit you what was about to happen.

“Oh my god.” You mumbled.

“What?” Charlie frowned. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You replied. “Just realised we’re about to fuck.”

Charlie laughed.

“No kidding.” He teased. “You know we don’t have to if you don’t feel ready.”

“No, no, I want to. It’s just... I’ve been dreaming of this for so long and now it’s finally happening.” Charlie smiled softly at your words.

“Hey, I love you.” He said, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“I love you too.” You replied. “Anyways, now that the sappy moment is over, can we get back to business now?”

Charlie laughed, pushing you back onto the bed before hovering over you.

“Ready?” He questioned. You nodded, opening your legs. He lent down and kissed you again, the tip of his dick brushing against your clit, and without a warning he pushed into you.

You gasped slightly at the discomfort as he slowly slid into you, waiting once he bottomed out.

“Okay, ready.” You told him after a moment, and he nodded before pulling almost completely out and slamming back into you. You couldn’t help but scream out in pleasure, and Charlie grinned, covering your mouth.

“Shh, don’t want anyone to hear us.” He said, reminding you that Owen was in the room just next door. You nodded, and the next time he thrusted he muffled your moans with his hand.

“I’ve been dreaming about this for so long, and you’re even better than I imagined. So tight and warm around me.” Charlie spoke as he thrusted. “And don’t even get me started on your tits, god they’re perfect. Oh and that ass, I’ve always loved your ass.”

You blushed at his words.

“You really never shut up do you?” You said, and Charlie grinned. 

“Nope. Talking is kinda my thing.” He told you, his pace speeding up slightly. 

“Gee who would have thought.” You mumbled sarcastically. 

“Hey, no sarcasm while we’re fucking.” Charlie reprimanded. 

“Can we not have a normal fucking conversation right now? Surprised you haven’t commented on the weather yet.” You groaned, the sound turning into one of pleasure as Charlie hit your g-spot.

“Apparently there’s a storm coming tomorrow.” Charlie commented. You glared at him. 

“Charles I swear to god.” 

He fell silent, the only sound the both of your heavy breathing, and the sound of skin slapping together. After a moment he spoke up again. 

“Can’t do quiet. My mouth just needs to be doing something.” He whined, and you pulled him down to connect your lips, sliding your tongue into his mouth as your orgasm rapidly approached. 

Charlie sped up again and you moaned into his mouth. He pulled away quickly. 

“I’m so close.” He told you. You nodded. 

“Me too.” You replied. He pulled you in for another kiss and with a few last thrusts he came inside you, causing you to topple over the edge too, walls clenching around him as you came. 

He pulled out and collapsed on top of you, his damp hair pressed against your cheek. 

“We have to do this again sometime.” He sighed, snuggling into you. You smiled softly before agreeing. 

Now that you had slept with Charlie, you didn’t think you could ever go back to the way things were. 

And honestly? Neither of you wanted to. 

[bloomyagi]

bewitched (m)

summary: bakugou has always loved you.

pairings: bakugou katsuki x f!reader, hawks x f!reader (nsfw)

genre: characters are aged up, 20+, pro heroes au

warnings: allusions to cheating, angst, porn w/ lots of feelings, shower sex, kinda subby bakugou, he’s basically lovesick n soft for u, keigo is a good birdie, he would never do this irl

length: 3,518

notes: hello! my first bnha fic, please be kind <3 please let me know what you think! i’ve been so obsessed w/ jjk & bnha recently skdjkjf. send help 

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It comes down softly at first. The droplets whispering against windshields, ghosting across bare arms, a trick of the light. Then a pause, like the darkening clouds are reconsidering their decisions. There is no wind, no anger in the way it pelts down, darkens the concrete. Like resignation, like relief. It soaks bone, sends most civilians packing as they duck under awnings and flee into shops in anticipation of a short-lived flare.

But it is summer, and the rain is welcome as a remedy against the oppressive heat. Many onlookers merely move their belongings closer to avoid the stream, gaze out glass windows longingly. Some find inspiration, others find peace.

You stand in the middle of it all, drenched and unmoving as you watch your lover wrap his arms around his secretary, and you wonder whose mood this pathetic fallacy is expected to reflect as you look across to meet familiar eyes.

He, too, mirrors your stance. Clothes sodden, yet the nature of its designs only lends to plaster themselves closer to his skin. His irises are that bright, burning red. He is not fizzling, heated against the affair before him. Instead, his gaze is trained on you.

There is no fury, no sadness, no emptiness. His gaze is not hollow, it is instead strangely warm. Your chest squeezes, tightening in the way you experience when you read a novel laced in tragedy, that welling feeling of anguish and sorrow.

His hands are shoved in his pockets, and though his eyes remain fastened to you, he makes no step to move closer.

The sky lightens, a thin streak of sun peering through in a solitary beam. The sounds seem to press close again, like a bubble popping in your ear.

The summer storm is tempered as quickly as it appeared, the sound of life—laughter, the splashing of sneakers drowning in newly formed puddles—and the lingering smell of renewed earth and the chirping of birds as they shake off their wings to take flight.

Water drips silently down the pair of gorgeous wings before you. They flutter briefly, flicking off the thin layer that pooled on its surface, before unfurling to fold over her. He pulls her closer, separating only every so often to breathe.

Shameless, is all you think plainly. And you are—ashamed. That feeling catches you by surprise, breath caught in your throat as the feeling expands, takes root in your lungs. It is that hindsight, that disappointment—at yourself—that has you lowering your eyes.

He is still looking at you, even as someone squeals and a crowd gathers, pushing and shoving to press close, stays rooted to his spot, watching you, even as the couple finally break apart, dishevelled—she adjusts her pencil skirt, re-buttons her blouse; he runs a hand through his golden locks, fixes his half-open shirt—and Hawks’ chuckle rings across the street, one arm braced around her waist as he signs autographs and takes photos. She is glowing beside him, all smiles and shrill laughter. Her nails, perfectly manicured and sharp, digs into his chest. He doesn’t even flinch. He likes it.

You stifle a dry laugh. Turning on your heel, you disappear into the thickening crowd.

He himself is being pawed at, hands fawning at his exposed arms, clutching at him like he is fresh off the conveyer belt.

He waits until he can no longer discern your retreating figure before bearing a half-smile at the crowd. He takes the pen that is shoved into his face, and he begins signing autographs.

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.

Time and experience have tempered his constitution. He has accepted his flaws, worked on them until he could proudly stand on the same stage as his—friends. Because that is what they are—these people that have helped him grow, comforted his trauma, stayed with him despite it all. What else could he call them but the very things they are—they are the pillar of his strength. Because of you, I learned I could be strong for the things I care about.

He is not number one. He has no need for such a title, no need for such a goal anymore. He is no longer the brash, easily angered teenager that charged for the strongest.

“I don’t care what they call me, what rank I am, or what they think of me. I only want the power to protect these people. That’s it.” He thinks back to your words.

You are not often solemn. You laughed a lot, the slow-appearing crinkles to the corner of your eyes a physical testament to your innate joy. You liked to take delight in the ordinary things. Perhaps that is what drew him to you—that strength. To shoulder the burden of your chosen role in this society, to have the bravery to smile amongst the suffering.

There was always an unbidden heat that surged in his chest when he thought of you. That odd feeling of a knot tying itself in his stomach when his skin brushed yours. When you fell from the height of a skyscraper, half-conscious from defeating a new breed of nomu, his heart stuttered and leapt in halting beats to throat as he split from his team, their screams for you ringing in his ears, the rush of badump-badump closing in rapidly, pushing his beaten body to its limits, faster, faster, faster—please! Who was he praying to at the time? He was begging anyone who was listening to give him that push—the gap was too big, you were too far, he was too tired, too useless, too broken—he slammed into you with enough force to compel blood up his throat.

He spat it to the side quickly, not bothering to wipe himself clean before he turned to you. The first thing he registered was warmth. You were limp in his hold, on the edge of passing out, exhaustion lining every curve of your face. Your lips quirked, eyes closed.

“Hurts like hell,” you slurred. “Falling from heaven.”

He stared at you, blinking the blood from his lashes.

And then he threw his back and laughed. It was a full-bodied, uproarish laughter. The type that rumbled from his chest. He shook, though he was careful not to jostle you, and you managed a quiet chuckle.

The adrenaline faded from his body, and he hiccupped as he slumped onto the concrete beam behind him. The ice receded from his veins.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he murmured. It was a quiet plea. Don’t do that ever again, is what he really wanted to say, but how could he? This was the occupational hazard of your shared line of work. This was the risk. His eyes burned, half-lidded as he held you closer.

You couldn’t lift a single limb on your body, so you lean into him.

“No promises.”

It was enough. Your voice was raspy, drained, but there was a sincere lilt to it.

He wanted to say something more, then, but first responders arrived and whisked you separate ways before he could gather his thoughts.

He regrets it, to this day. Perhaps if he had said something then, said something sooner, the scene would have played out differently.

He does not have many regrets, have long resolved to move on from his past and mistakes. “What a useless emotion,” you once told him. “Don’t wallow. Mourn and move on. Do better. That’s what you owe. That is what you are owed.”

But this—this he will always regret.

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He finds you on the roof of your penthouse.

“I like it. Being able to see everything from up here.” The first time he’d peered over the edge, he’d been enlisted for furniture rearranging. You handed him a beer, beckoning him over, jerking your head to the scenery below. And it was—breathtaking. You were breathtaking. He hadn’t even bothered to entertain a cursory glance. It was summer then, too, and the evening breeze was light as it brushed your locks back. Lights began to flicker as the sun dipped lower into the horizon. He briefly considered making a similar move.

But moving was a hassle, only further proven by the efforts of today, so he dismissed the thought quickly, taking another swig. He was sweaty, a layer of grime a film over his skin from the manual labour he’d been voluntold for most of the afternoon. It was petty work compared to his—their—day job, but it was still a strangely refreshing workout.

“What are you feeling?” His steps are muted, voice faint. It carries on the back of a shallow gust.

You don’t spare him a look, staring into the distance. You’re sitting, one leg thrown casually over the ledge, the other pulled to your stomach. He’d made an off-hand comment once about adding some railings, but you’d rolled your eyes and pushed him playfully.

Pussy, you called. He chuckled. Like we don’t experience enough life-threatening dangers on a regular basis, he snarked.

All the more reason, then, you shot back. He fell silent then, the pulsing in his throat returning.

He could never really read you. Eyes are the window to the soul. He scoffs internally. Whoever said that must’ve known it was a load of bullshit. Your eyes never said anything. But his—his said everything he couldn’t, and more.

You hum. “Would it be cliché if I said I wasn’t surprised, only disappointed?”

“No.”

“Then I’m disappointed. I had hoped, I suppose, that he would choose differently.”

He tastes the words that I would be enough between, and the sigh of to change him that escapes your lips.

“You knew who he was when you went into this,” he says quietly. No judgement—he is not reminding you of your poor decisions, rather striking a conversation in the same manner one would inquire about the weather.

Quant, you think. And a few years ago, you would have added out of character. But now it is not so—he has grown into himself well.

You tilt your head back. He leans against the wall, arms crossed across that well-built chest of his, shirt straining against the muscle. He’s so tall now—so much taller than anyone had expected him to be. That wild, unruly blond hair of his has remained the same, appearing spiky but soft to the touch. And his eyes—they are gentle but retain the ferocity he is well-known for.

“Yes,” you say after a while. “That is why I am not surprised. But these feelings won’t just disappear overnight because of this.”

He’s quiet for a while, those crimson orbs of his trailing over your expression. You don’t know what he finds, but he must understand your position because he nods.

“I’ll wait for you.”

This—this is a surprise. Somehow, he always manages to surprise you.

“After all this time?” You ask softly.

“Always,” he says quietly.

He leaves, and when you return to the house, you pick up the keys he left on your counter. Twirling them on one finger, you smile to yourself.

Thank you. You know he knows.

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.

“I tried to be the person you wanted me to be,” he says.

“I tried, I really did. But this is who I am, who they made me. I can’t change. I’m sorry,” he says.

He says a lot more, you think, but you’ve long since stopped listening. He knows these are only flimsy barriers that excuse his behaviour. He knows he is not this person. He is not broken, he is worthy of much, much more. He just needs to believe it. They took everything from him. That is what he thinks, how he lives. Like he has no real purpose.

Instead, he is stopped, wings flaring as you reach for him. You smell familiar, and that ache in his heart deepens. He will forever regret losing you, but you deserve more. He is not good for you, and he is not your responsibility. His growth is his obligation. Perhaps, when he is ready, he will find you again.

But by then, he thinks, burying his face into your shoulder, you will have already chosen differently.

“I love you, baby bird. I will always love you,” he presses these words against your neck in a soft whisper, voice cracking, like a prayer, he tries to sear his truth into your skin. He tastes salt on his tongue.

And, between it all, he traces I’m sorry.

You squeeze him once.

You know.

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“Hey.”

You’re uncharacteristically shy, cheeks puffing in that sweet smile of yours.

That sharp, familiar warmth blooms in his chest at the sight of you perched on the arm of his leather couch. You look comfortable, relaxed, like you—belonged here, his mind supplies helpfully.

He steps out of his boots, unbuckling his support items and setting them on the counter to clean later. He’s a little worse for wear tonight, shoulders tight from chasing rogue villains the past few hours. The tension seeps away steadily, though, the longer he drinks you in.

You look good. You always look good. Gorgeous, even more so when you’re tired and dirty, covered in blood and dust and debris. It’s been so long since you patrolled together, pulled to opposite ends of the city the past few months.

“Hey,” he says back.

“Shower?” You take his hand.

He trails behind you, nearly tripping over in his haste to follow, failing to register your words in time. This must be a dream, he decides. And he will play along, as he always does in these fits of delirium. He will hold you and have you and love you in ways he cannot begin to describe, and then he will lose you as dawn breaks and he wakes to an empty bed. But he falls anyway, does it over and over until he feels like he will go insane from the sheer longing. He is addicted to you.

You haven’t spoken, not really, since that night on the rooftop. So you, being here, without any prior warning, touching him, smiling at him, leading him to his fucking shower—this must be a dream, right?

You push open the door to his bathroom. It’s big, he’s always been meticulous about his health, and enjoys his fair share of long soaks and hot showers.

He realizes a beat too late that you’re undressing him. He exhales sharply when you tug his shirt off, but before he could say anything, you murmur, “You smell like caramel. You always do. It’s just a little stronger than usual.”

“Oh.” He sounds a little breathless, a little strangled. Unlike him, but he has never really been anything but himself with you. He’s still discovering new sides to himself, it seems.

Oddly enough, he’s the farthest thing from embarrassed as he steps out of his pants and boxers. He’s flushed, but the heat that floods his veins is nothing short of delicious. It makes his head spin, makes him lean into your touch.

You strip quickly, tossing your costume fabric aside his for laundry. He sucks in an audible breath at the sight of your nude body. Beautiful, he wants to say, but the words are stuck in his throat, and he reaches out with a shaky hand to thumb the smear of grease on your cheek.

You smile, pushing open the frosted glass doors and pull him inside.

The temperature is perfect. He likes it hot on days like today, muscles relaxing as the water washes away his fatigue.

“You know me so well,” he says.

You push him under the stream, water cascading between the two of you. His locks flatten under the pressure, falling over his eyes. You run a hand through his hair, pushing it back as you press yourself flush against him.

“Yes,” you answer. “I do.”

And then you kiss him. A low purring echoes through the space. Ah, it’s me, some part of him thinks absently. He opens his mouth instantly, tongue lapping at yours, arms coming around to hold you close. He can distinctly feel the way your perked nipples rub against his pectorals. He can taste you. And you are sweet, so sweet and the lewd sounds of your make out reverberating in the room so vividly he knows this is not, in fact, a mere conjuration of imagination after all.

He loathes to part from you, but he does. His fingers dig into your waist, anchoring him to reality. He looks at you searchingly, beseechingly. If you are here, you can only be here for one reason.

“I’m sorry I took so long. I’m sorry, I know it must’ve been painful. I’m here now, I promise I’ll never leave again,” you say, cupping his cheek.

His breath catches. His eyes flutter shut.

“You promise?” He sounds so small, so weak. Vulnerable. He would’ve hated that, once, but he is no longer that person. Today, he can accept he is weak for you. Always has been. And that’s okay, he thinks. He doesn’t have to be strong all the time.

“Yes. I promise, Katsuki.” You press your forehead against him, standing on your tippy toes.

He kisses you again, swallows your dreamy sigh, one hand on the back of your head, the other crushing your body against his. He wants you close, needs you close. Needs to feel you, this is real, right?

“Yes,” you whisper, and he realizes belatedly that he spoke aloud. “This is real. I’m here. I’m right in front of you.” You take his hand and press it against your upper rib cage, where your heart beats. Fast, like the wings of a hummingbird.

He can’t help it. He takes you against the wall, so pent up from years of pining he can hardly think, rutting into you like a teenager in heat, feeling like he’s a virgin again, every trace of your skin so new, he maps them out first with his eyes, then his hands and mouth. He slows down when you call his name in a haze of pleasure, takes the time to worship you, find what makes you tick, watches your expression raptly as he rolls his hips, as he tweaks your nipples, palms your ass, litters a necklace of freshly bloomed violets on your collarbone.

He’s panting your name, you’re murmuring praises in his ear, tugging at his locks and biting down on his shoulder and he cums so hard his vision whitens.

The two of you slide down, his legs giving out in the aftershocks, until he’s sitting on the floor of his shower and you’re curled up on his lap.

The water is—miraculously—still hot.

You lay there for a while, and he catches his breath between lazy kisses, enjoying the way your hands roam his chest languidly.

Finally, he stands, letting you down reluctantly to actually clean yourselves. You giggle at the pout that forms when your feet touch the ground once more.

You wash his hair, massaging methodically as he dips his head back to let the foam drain. He takes great pleasure in this, at the way you spread a generous amount of body wash on your palms and begin scrubbing the grime from his skin.

He jolts forward, letting out a low groan as you squeeze his flaccid cock teasingly. He glances away, eyes half-lidded, at the heated look you give him when his cock hardens immediately.

“You underestimate how easily you turn me on,” he says plainly. Not a hint of embarrassment. And why should he be? You kiss the corner of his mouth. “I love it,” you murmur.

You rinse him off before turning. His length presses against your ass, but he makes no move to seek anything further, focused on washing you.

Satisfied, he turns off the water.

You step out, toweling each other off. He pulls you to him, inhaling deeply. He likes that you smell like him now.

.

.

.

Afterwards, you are tucked in close, covers pulled up and he’s buried his face in your chest, bare legs tangled.

Perhaps it’s the novelty, the feeling of finally, but you can’t get enough of one another. You wake each other multiple times throughout the night, clawing at each other, ripping his boxers and your—his—shirt from each other until you were pressed tightly together, bare, a thin sheen of sweet already coating your bodies.

A thin strip of moonlight peeks through the cream curtains. He gazes up at you, thinks everything in his life has been leading up to this moment. That warmth swelling again, as it always does, so intense it has him arching his back. You touch his cheek, smiling. Something lands on the side of his pillow. Ah. You lean down, lips warm as they kiss away his tears.

“I love you, Katsuki.”

He closes his eyes.

Thank you.

[nincompoopydoo]

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— HYMN OF THE LOVESICK ; PART 5 / ?

( gif from this beautiful gifset by @knightwayne )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2k

SUMMARY: Alfred definitely knows something about Bruce that you’re not willing to think about and Bruce has an epiphany that changes the way he sees you.

A/N: Guess who forgot which day pbr is usually posted? This idiot here. God, I’m sorry and this chapter can be boring. Next chapter will have a lot more going on, I promise. Also, this might end in the next chapter or two. Enjoy, folks.

WARNINGS: Kinda dramatic because I’m dramatic.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Driving through the Wayne estate gives you a sense of much-needed peace. The never-ending tunnel with walls of identical colossal pine trees as you faintly hum to Aretha Franklin over the low whirring of the running engine. It’s a quarter to noon, and the sun doesn’t seem to shine in the city of Gotham—clouds of grey constantly shield its optimum shine, only to ever allow rays to seep through the gaps in the moving Autumn wind. You don’t mind it and you never did, growing up in the city left clouds unnoticed to you unless it signified the arrival of a thunderstorm. Weather and nature are the least of your concerns but you would appreciate it now and then.

The tunnel of trees comes to an end as a clearing of extensive fields emerges into view. What is left of the Wayne Manor still stands with ostentation, despite its skeleton along with its dignity rotting away to be eventually consumed by mother nature herself. There’s a sense of eeriness to it; you find it odd how a building could seem so alive at times, like it's watching you, despite its apparent decay.

You turn your head away and focus on the road.

A glance at your hand on the wheel, you’re reminded of last night, when his hands held yours—it burns at the mere thought of his gentle touch. And the drive home, silent with the occasional glances and small smiles. You recall how the passing streetlights cascade hues of orange on his wearied expression and how his eyes were bright when they flit to your figure in the passenger seat for just a moment. Something must have changed between the two of you, but you can’t quite tell what. Maybe it’s your undying love for Bruce. Maybe he feels the same way. You snort to yourself, alone in your car, one can only dream but it doesn’t mean they all come true. Bruce may love but he doesn’t commit. You can’t commit too. Now, you’re starting to believe you’ve been lying to yourself.

The glasshouse comes into view as you steer around the bending road and into the driveway. It contradicts everything the manor was but only shared its sense of glory. You like the glasshouse, less deafening and structured with the purpose of bareness and vulnerability but its dark furnishings keep it grounded and secure. Its sense of balance tricks your mind into thinking you’re stable. His car is still around, parked by the porch but you don’t see him, ambling around the household.

Switching off the ignition, you snatch the paper bag from the passenger seat and clamber out of the car. Darker clouds begin rolling from afar, your hair flying in the strong wind. A storm is coming, you’re sure of it. One of the rare times it rains during the season. You dread the thought of having to drive back into the city and across Westward Bridge. Driving over bridges built over the water in the rain scares the heck out of you.

As you swing the car door to a close, you hear the shuffling of feet amongst leaves behind you. Alfred, with a barrel of chopped wood—stocking up for the winter. There’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes albeit startled by your sudden presence. He mentions your name with endearment; you greet him with a small smile. You always liked Alfred. You enjoyed his company.

“What a pleasant surprise seeing you here,” he says, pushing the barrel aside as he nears you. “I’m afraid you just missed Bruce. He left for Metropolis an hour ago—duty calls.”

You nod, ignoring the clench in your heart. He hadn’t told you anything but frankly, you weren’t expecting him to anyway.

“Well, I just came by to drop off this,” You lift the paper bag, swaying it a little within your grasp. “As a thank you gift, you know.” Alfred smiles at this, gestures towards the house in a beckoning manner. “Come on in, I’ll make you some tea.” Before you could even protest, he’s gently guiding you to the door by the shoulder. It’s hard to say no to Alfred, especially when he offers tea.

-

Your mind wonders as you watch the drizzle of rain form ripples in the lake. You sit on a chair with a contemporary structure to it; it digs into your lower back, due to your bad posture. Uncomfortable but nice-looking and great armrests. Contradicts everything a chair should be. Alfred emerges from the kitchen with a black ceramic mug in hand, steam from the brewed tea lingering above it. He holds an identical mug, for himself. With two hands, you clasp onto the mug with acceptance, a radiant appreciative smile upon your lips. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.” Alfred shoots you a look of disdain, “I’ve told you many times, Alfred is fine.” Taking a sip, you shake your head, a smile still lingering. “No way. I have too much respect for you to call you by your first name.” Alfred mirrors you, settling for the chair to your right, swiftly sliding the scatter of papers to the corner of the table. You find it easy to fall into a natural conversation with the older man—the two of you are mutuals after all of a certain billionaire. Yet, Alfred is more of a father figure, having practically raised Bruce and you, well, it’s complicated. It always is. You don’t know where you stand in his life, and you're not sure if you want to know.

“Anyway, where have you been? I haven’t seen you in weeks.” It’s true. The usual sight of the butler sauntering around the glasshouse or somewhere in the Wayne Estate was absent during the last two weeks. Alfred is always around, his disappearance was glaring, impossible to go unnoticed.

He shifts in his seat, placing his mug on the table, teaspoon moving with a soft clang. “I was visiting family back in England. I appreciate that you have noticed my absence,” An eyebrow raises, your laugh comes out more like a huff. “Always, Mr. Pennyworth.”

Family. Mother. Dinner—you remember the dinner with your mother on Sunday night, and you’re the host. The host hasn't decided on the menu for tomorrow’s meal. Oh God, it’s tomorrow. Procrastination is your friend but your family’s expectations for you aren't. If you pop enough wine bottles, maybe she'll be too drunk to be disappointed by the end of the night.

And the wedding. The mere thought makes you sick. You don’t want to bring a date, but you don’t want to be alone. Weddings, love, couples—it makes you tick. It’s a glaring reminder of how your love life is an absolute disaster and your inability to maintain relationships. It’s hopeless, you’ll die a spinster and everyone lives happily ever after.

“Are you alright?”

It’s funny how those three words have been the most frequent words you would hear from those around you. You appreciate the concern, really, but you can’t help but feel there’s a stronger and deeper meaning to those words. It’s a question of assurance, a reality check, and a realization that you might be broken. Everyone is broken—in their own ways.

Although you seem reserved to some people, your tendency to open up about your issues to those close to you contradicts that though you instantly regret it. Especially when people tell you to change. You hate change. It’s terrifying.

You pause, suddenly feeling...fidgety. Yet, in the words of Bruce: In Alfred, you trust.

Remember, keep it light. You don’t want to haul all this luggage of yours onto an aging man. He’s already got Bruce’s luggage.

“My cousin’s getting married in two weeks and,” you sigh, he listens intently. “And as pathetic as this sounds, I really don’t want to go to it alone.”

Your words are direct, straightforward and you sound like a whiny teenager or the main character in a Wattpad story but truth be told, there’s an underlying meaning to it and you know, Alfred knows it. You just don’t want to admit it.

He takes a beat, assessing your sentence like he’s a therapist, wanting to select his words carefully. “Well, I don’t think you’re pathetic. It’s...understandable,” he flashes you a pointed look and you find yourself straightening your back. “Why don’t you ask Bruce?”

Your brain must have short-circuited at that moment.

Oh, hell no. Not in a million years.

You’re shaking your head, laughing nervously. “No, no. No. Never. I couldn’t possibly ask him to do that. He’s already done so much for me—”

“You’ve done a lot for him too.”

A pause, words stuck in your throat. You just look at Alfred through confused eyes. You’re not sure what that means. He’s staring at you with a knowing look. You sigh, shaking your head in denial once more. “No, that’s...that’s not true.”

It’s almost infuriating how stubborn you can be sometimes that it’s even irritating yourself. You’re staring at your fingers, playing with the tag attached to the teabag by a thread. As far as you’re concerned, Bruce is...the greatest friend you’ve ever had. Through thick and thin, he’s been there for you. He’s always there. It’s partly the reason why you have fallen for him in the first place. Hard. He’s easy to love when he wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s rare but it’s beautiful. You almost feel ashamed to be allowed to see him in that light.

“Bruce will do just about anything for you,” Alfred says calmly as he watches you avoid eye contact. “And I know, you’ll do the same for him.” You throw your eyes at the older man as he cops you a look. Your heart is beating so fast, so thunderous, you hear it in your ears. He’s right and you know it. That accidental kiss to your forehead on the night you asked him to come for the play comes back to mind in a flash. It feels like a mark on your forehead, it feels like it’s burning.

“Would you like a scone with that?” He’s pointing to your tea and with that, he’s off to the kitchen once more, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

-

It’s late—a quarter to four in the morning. He spends most of his nights in the Batcave, hidden away from all the sounds and tumult of the world, shrouded in the darkness as the light of the computer screen cascades on his tired eyes. He ambles through the glasshouse, weary feet against hardwood floors, body begging to lay on grey sheets though he dreads a vacant bed.

He strains his eyes peering into the gloom when he perceives a paper bag, sitting idly on the table by the window. Nearing it, there’s a yellow post-it note stuck onto the bag and under the gentle light from the moon that reflects against the lake, he can make out words written on it.

It’s from you.

Thanks for coming to the play. I would have bought you something else, but I’m really broke. Sorry. I owe you one.

A drawn heart follows it. It’s tiny. His chest feels warm.

He should have recognized the paper bag because inside, there are four bagels. Four Asiago bagels. He laughs, it comes out more like a puff of hot air, feeling the warmth that resides in his chest spreading throughout his body.

Then, it hits him like a bullet to the heart. The impact is strong, powerful. Your impact on him is strong, powerful. There’s no mystery to his feelings for you but at this moment, he’s completely certain. For the first time in life.

He loves you.

Bruce staggers into the chair, hand carding back the strands of his hair. He can’t keep doing this to you. Whatever the hell is going on. Your friendship, the...stupid agreement. He wants none of it because it feels like he’s constantly going around in circles.

But what do you really want, Bruce?

TAGLIST

@raineeace

[luna-eclipse2000]

Baby, it’s cold outside.

Marco Bodt x Reader

“God, why did I think it’d be a good idea to leave my house without a hat? Or a scarf?” I ask myself as I leave the school. “-20° (-4° F) outside with snow and wind… But the forecast is usually wrong because the meteorologist is horrible at their job.”

I rub my hands together to try and warm them up a bit, but they’re already going numb. I sigh but that just causes my teeth to chatter. I decide to tuck my hands under my arms to try and get a bit of warmth back when I hear a car drive up beside me but I don’t look to see who it is because I’m too focused on not becoming a popsicle. “You look really cold.” The person says from their window. “Yeah?” I ask rhetorically. “I wonder why? Maybe it’s because there’s blizzard and I’m in a stupid little coat that I got on sale from Marshall’s.”

Upon realizing how rude I just was, I immediately back peddle. “I’m-I’m sorry. I’m just really cold and trying to preserve my energy in order to make it back to my dorm.”

“I could give you a ride if you’d like?” The person offers. Before I say anything else, I look over to see who’s in the car. “Oh, hey, Marco.” I greet him properly. “That’d be great, thanks.”

I quickly shuffle my way over to the car, open the door, and hop in. Marco turns up the heating and takes his hat off to put on me so my ears warm up faster. “You know, you should prepare for any kind of weather during the winter.” Marco says. “Yeah, I know.” I agree. “I was just in a rush this morning and I knew about the weather but I was already down the hall, and I decided that I’d be fine.”

The radio then starts to play Idina Menzel and Michael Bublè’s version of Baby, It’s Cold Outside. Marco starts to laugh as I pout. “Don’t mock me, radio.”

“Why don’t I come inside with you and make you something warm to drink while you get a million blankets to pile on?” Marco offers once he’s stopped laughing. “Sure,” I agree. “I’d really like that.”

~~~~~

“Here you go.” Marco says as I sit on my small couch. I have a blanket across my lap, as well. “Thank you.” I say as I take the mug. It’s hot chocolate but he decorated the hell out of it. There’s whipped cream, marshmallows and a candy cane. “Holy crap, Marco! How’d you learn to do this?”

He laughs. “I’m the oldest of four. My youngest brother’s just about to turn 10 so I’ve learned how to make things look cool. Hot Chocolate’s kinda my specialty during the winter.”

“Well it looks like it should be in a commercial or something.” I say as I take a sip of my drink. “Thanks.” He replies as he takes a sip of his.

~~~~~

“Well, I think I’m gonna go now.” Marco says as he stands up. “Gotta study for a test next week in a unit I suck in and I still live at home which is 20 minutes away.”

“Oh, ok.” I reply, kinda sad that he has to go. “We should do this more often, I had fun.” Marco tells me. I nod. “Me too. Bye, Marco!”

“Bye, (y/n)!” Marco says and just as he reaches the door, the power goes out. “What the hell?” I ask. “I don’t know,” Marco replies. “I guess so many people had their heating units up so high that it caused a power outage.”

“Oh… that’s not good.” I say. “I think I have a radio in my closet. We could find out how far the blackout went and when the power could be back on.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Marco says.

I get up, head to my room, and start to search my closet for the radio I got a few years ago. “Ok… it was blue with silver…” I mumble the description to myself like it’ll help me find it faster. I move a set of boxes and find the old dusty thing so I pick it up and bring it outside to the living room. “And we pray that it works.”

Marco crosses his fingers as I press the on button and we hear some Christmas music playing. “Yes!” We cheer happily. I press one of the buttons to get to a news station so we can hear what’s going on. “The National Weather Service says that this is one of the worst storms to hit our area since 1953.” The broadcaster says. “The blackout ranges from 54th Street West all the way to Diana Road in width, and from Reiss Drive to Appleby Street in length.”

“Holy crap!” Marco exclaims. “Damn, that’s a big blackout.” I gasp. “The cause of the blackout was a mixture of people cranking up the heat and piles of snow falling on transformers.” The broadcaster says. “We advise everyone to stay inside until the power comes back on as it will be safer then going out on the roads. However, we don’t know yet just how long it will take for the Power Company to fix this.”

“Man, this sucks.” Marco groans. “You don’t wanna stay here?” I ask him. “That’s not it.” Marco tells me. “It’s just that my brothers are gonna be worried because my parents are out of state on business. I’m here. And I don’t wanna intrude on you.”

“Marco, you’re not intruding on me.” I assure him. “Besides, I think I’d prefer to have someone here than be by myself. The snow’s making it kinda dark in here.”

“Do you have any candles?” Marco asks. “We could use them for light.”

“Good idea.” I say. “I should have a few in the closet cupboard. You can go grab those and I’ll find a lighter or matches, or something.”

Marco nods and then goes down the hall. I walk into the kitchen and go through my junk drawer. I find a highlighter, turtle shaped silly band, pens galore, a battery, and finally my lighter. “Got the lighter!” I announce as I re-enter the living room. “I got four candles.” Marco says as he comes in a second later. “I got Ocean Breeze, Caramel Apple, Holly Jolly, and Honey Wildflower. It’s gonna smell interesting in here.”

I laugh as Marco takes the lids off each and I light the wicks.

~~~~~

It’s only been an hour since the power went out and it’s already getting pretty cold in here. I’m currently shivering my ass off as I have four blankets and a coat on. All of a sudden, Marco stands up and walk over to the radio. He clicks through the channels when Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas comes on. He walks back over and offers his hand to me. “Maybe dancing will warm you up a bit.”

I blush a bit and take his hand. I stand up and follow Marco a few steps away from the couch where he then places his hands on my waist and I place mine on his shoulders.

🎵 Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Let your heart be light

From now on

Our troubles will be out of sight

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Make the Yule-tide gay

From now on

Our troubles will be miles away

Here we are as in olden days

Happy golden days of yore

Faithful friends who are dear to us

Gather near to us once more🎵

“Starting to warm up a bit?” Marco asks. I nod. “My hands are still freezing, though.”

“Don’t you have gloves?” Marco asks. I smile sheepishly at him. “I usually just put them in my pockets.”

“That’s why you didn’t have some earlier?” Marco asks. I nod slowly. He laughs and then grabs my hands. “Here, my youngest brother used to do this all the time.” He then lifts his shirt up a bit and puts my hands under it. I feel him tense up when my cold hands meet his warm body. “And, boom, instant warmth.”

I don’t respond as I’m completely freaking out. “Uh… Are you ok?” Marco asks me. “Is this uncomfortable? I’m sorry, it’s all I could really think of so you’d get warm faster.”

What I mean to say is “I’m perfectly fine. Just wasn’t expecting this.” But what came out of my mouth was “How the hell are you so ripped?”

Now it’s Marco’s turn to blush and gape like a fish. “I’m so sorry!” I apologize. “I have no idea why I said that!”

“I, uh… I-I just go to the gym.” Marco answers. “You can come one day with me, if you want.”

“Me?” I ask. “Working out with you? In workout clothes? Sweating?” Marco raises an eyebrow at my inquires. “Please stop me before I say something I’ll highly regret and then run out into the snow.”

He laughs and then kisses my forehead. “I think it’ll be just fine if you say what you want to.”

“Yes, I’ll join.” I answer in complete. “To workout and definitely not stare at you.”

Marco laughs. “Since I’m pretty sure classes will be cancelled tomorrow, mind if I just stay over? I can make you more hot chocolate when the power comes back.”

I nod quickly. “As long as I can cuddle you and keep my hands under your shirt.”

“Of course.” Marco replies.

[fruitcoops]

Hii, i love your work! Can I request an angst fic with prompts 38, 31 and 78. Like Logan and Leo get into a big fight and Logan says something bad (like I hate u and something like that) and Leo just leaves and maybe goes to Remus and Sirius. And then they make up idk, just a happy ending.

Thanksss❤️❤️🥺

Hello! I really enjoyed writing this ask because I haven’t written a lot of relationship-related angst yet, and I’m pretty happy with it. Credit for Sweater Weather goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for arguing in relationships

Prompt 31: “He’s not answering his phone.”

Prompt 38: “Don’t talk like that.”

Prompt 78: “What did you just say?”

It started with a book.

It wasn’t a particularly special book—on the contrary, it was a beat-up copy of A Tale of Two Cities that Leo had received as a birthday present years ago. He didn’t even like the book that much, but it was a rainy day and he hadn’t slept and he wanted something familiar to daydream through.

There was a heavy, irritated sigh from the kitchen. Leo glanced up at Finn, who was folding laundry, and frowned. “Lo, you okay?” Finn asked.

“Fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“It’s just—it’s fine.”

Finn set a pair of socks down and ducked into the kitchen; Leo turned back to his book, but kept both ears pricked. “What’s wrong?” Finn’s voice was soft and concerned.

“I don’t know, I’m just upset,” Logan answered. Dishes clanked in the sink and Leo winced, silently hoping none of them would be chipped. “Just finish the laundry and we can go to bed.”

Something in his tone rubbed Leo the wrong way and he stood, joining Finn in the doorway. “Hey, don’t talk to him like that.”

“Like what?” Logan set a fork down with more force than strictly necessary.

“You’re being snappy and I don’t like it. Finn doesn’t, either.”

Finn turned to look at him reproachfully. “What’s your deal?”

“Well, I was kind of looking forward to a quiet evening where we could hang out and read, but I guess that’s not going to happen.”

Logan huffed. “Maybe if you pulled your weight around here we could have a quiet evening.”

“Excuse me?”

“Finn and I have been cleaning for the last hour while you read your stupid book—”

“Leave me out of this!”

“—and I’m getting tired of cleaning up after you.”

Leo’s eyebrows rose and he huffed out a laugh, hardly believing his ears. “I’m sorry, who’s the one that leaves wet towels on the floor every fucking time he showers? Oh, but pardon me for taking an hour and a half to read after not sleeping because somebody was kicking me last night.”

“Both of you, cut it out,” Finn tried, holding his hands out to placate them. Blood thundered in Leo’s ears—he had no idea why his temper was flaring so suddenly, but he wasn’t going to back off and let Logan win. “Logan, I can finish the dishes. Leo, take a deep breath.”

“You’re taking his side now?” Leo asked incredulously. “You always take his side.”

“I’m not taking sides, I’m just trying to figure out what the hell is going on with you two!”

“What do mean, he always takes my side?” Logan crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, quiet rage twisting his face.

“That’s what you do.” The words were coming out of him in a torrent—unstoppable and furious. “You two tag-team every time we get in a fight and suddenly I’m outnumbered.”

“Wha—tag team?” Finn shook his head in disbelief. “Leo, what the fuck are you talking about? I love you, Logan loves you, and you love us.”

If Leo hadn’t been so angry, he probably would have missed Logan muttering under his breath. Instead, he rounded on him, his fists clenching and unclenching. “What did you just say?” Logan glared and kept his mouth shut. “Logan, what did you just say?”

“Nothing you’ll care about,” he said coldly.

Leo shook his head and grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter. “Fuck off, Logan. Just fuck off.”

The slamming of the door behind him was not nearly satisfying enough to quell his nausea and the pounding in his head. He got in the car and turned off the radio with a hard jab to the CD port; the opening notes of one of Logan’s favorite songs from the road trip playlist made Leo’s eyes sting as he pulled out of the garage and headed down the road.

“What did I just do?” he asked the empty car. “Jesus, Leo, you just stormed out with no plan and left two angry boyfriends behind, and now you have nowhere to go and nothing to do and nobody to go home to—”

He pulled over, parked the car, and burst into tears. Leo hadn’t cried like that since his first night in Gryffindor, so far away from home and too afraid of waking Logan up with his sobs to do more than silently weep into his pillow. Logan had definitely heard anyway, because when he woke up the next morning there was a hot cup of coffee next to the door.

“I fucked up.” The steering wheel made his forehead itch. “I fucked up so bad, oh my god.”

You need to go somewhere, the reasonable voice in his head that sounded quite a bit like his dad chided. If you go back and apologize, they’ll take you back.

I can’t. It’s too soon and I’m still upset.

Then think. Who else cares enough to let you stay?

Leo sniffled and wiped at his tears with the sleeve of his sweater. No, not his sweater—Finn’s. It took him another five minutes to pull himself together enough to turn on his blinker and head out onto the road again, following the familiar path without even needing to check his phone. The December air made the dried tears on his cheeks extra cold as he walked up the driveway with his hands stuffed in his pockets, shivering in the cold. This was nothing like home.

He heard the doorbell ring through the house and stepped back a bit to admire the holiday lights in a rainbow of colors. They sparkled, a beacon against the night that made his heart clench. The door swung open a few moments later. “Hey, Leo, what’s…going on?” Remus trailed off.

“Hey,” he sniffled. “Uh, can I come in?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Remus moved to the side so he could enter and he slipped his shoes off in silence, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t absolutely lose it right on the welcome mat. “Are you okay? Sorry, bad question. What happened?”

“We got in a fight,” Leo said miserably, keeping his eyes on the floor. “Logan and I. Finn got dragged into it and really it was my fault and I just kinda left.”

“Okay. Do you want a hug?”

He nodded without a word and Remus wrapped him tightly in his arms. He rubbed soothing circles on his back—Leo felt more tears slide down his face as he melted into the warm touch. “I’m sorry for not letting you know I’d be here.”

“Don’t worry about it, we’re always glad to see you. Can we move into the kitchen for a sec so you can drink some water?”

“Once a PT, always a PT,” Leo joked halfheartedly as he pulled away and scrubbed at his eyes. “Ugh.”

The kitchen was cheerful and simple, with dark red walls and white cupboards. He sat down at the island and put his chin on his forearms as Remus got him a glass of water and dampened some paper towels. “I don’t know where I put the tissues, sorry.”

“Thanks, Loops,” he said, wiping his face.

“Re, was someone at the door?” Sirius came around the corner and stopped in his tracks. “Hey, Leo.”

“Hey.”

He glanced at Remus, then set his empty bowl on the counter and leaned against the fridge. “What’s up?”

“Logan and I got in a fight.”

“With each other?”

“No, with the mailman,” he snapped, instantly regretting it. His lower lip wobbled; this was just how the fight had begun in the first place. “Sorry. Yeah, with each other. And Finn.”

“Where are they?”

“At h—home.” His voice cracked on the last word. “I left.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Remus asked carefully, sitting down next to him.

Leo’s shoulders slumped and he rested his temple on Remus’ shoulder. “It was so stupid.”

“Don’t talk like that, it was clearly important.”

“I was reading for an hour instead of helping them clean up because I was so fucking tired, and Logan was frustrated that I wasn’t helping. Finn tried to calm us both down, but I accused him of taking sides and then Logan mumbled something and wouldn’t tell me what he said.” It all blubbered out on a fresh wave of emotion and Remus handed him the paper towel again.

“That doesn’t sound stupid,” Sirius said in the gentlest voice Leo had ever heard him use.

“Really?”

“Really. It sounds like you let some things build up for too long, like a volcano.”

Leo sniffled. “You sound like my dad.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I think so.” He straightened up again and took a long sip of water. “God, I feel awful.”

Remus squeezed his shoulder. “I’m not surprised. Have you eaten recently?”

“We were going to have dinner when Lo finished with the dishes. So, no.”

“You want a sandwich?”

“Yes, please.” To Leo’s surprise, Sirius pulled a block of cheese out of the fridge and bread out of the cupboard. “You cook?”

He and Remus made identical ‘ehhh’ noises. “Un peu,” Sirius laughed. “I burn soup, but grilled cheese is easy.”

“How the fuck do you burn soup?”

“You want to know the worst part?” He looked over his shoulder briefly. “It was canned soup.”

“What?”

“Mhm. I turned the heat on high because I thought it would cook faster.”

Leo’s tide of emotions molded into total confusion. “Why would you do that? The instructions are on the can.”

“Strangely enough, that’s what I told him,” Remus said wryly. “And still it’s happened twice.”

“You are so mean to me,” Sirius sighed as he turned the stove on. “I make you grilled cheese sandwiches and this is the thanks I get?”

“Sorry, love.”

“How do you do that?” Leo asked.

Remus turned back to him. “Do what?”

“Have this…” He gestured vaguely. “Perfect, amazing relationship. How?”

Sirius snorted and returned to his place by the fridge. “It’s not perfect.”

“But you’re so happy all the time.”

“Aren’t you?” Remus asked. “When you’re with your boys, aren’t you happy?”

“Yes,” he answered immediately. “They’re the best thing in the world.”

“Do you have a perfect relationship?”

“Uh, no.”

“There’s your answer.” Remus spread his hands. “Fights happen. Sometimes you can’t stand to even be in the same room as your person, or your people. Sometimes it feels like everything they do drives you crazy. But that doesn’t mean you stop loving them, and they don’t stop loving you.”

“The fight wasn’t about me reading,” Leo said quietly. Understanding was beginning to settle in. “And it wasn’t about Logan leaving towels all over or me not pulling my weight. I think we both just had bad days. Is that normal?”

“I hope so,” Sirius said. “Three months after we moved in together, Remus slept on the couch for a week because he hated the way I left toothpaste on the sink.”

“I wasn’t even angry about the toothpaste.” Remus got up to refill Leo’s water glass. “I was scared we were moving too fast and that everything would fall apart.”

“I was—I am—scared,” Leo confessed. “There’s just so much happening all the time. Finn and Logan…they’re my center point. My anchor.”

Sirius slid a perfect grilled cheese sandwich onto a plate and handed it to him. “Then you should tell them that.”

Just as he took his first bite, the doorbell rang. Remus frowned. “We’re popular tonight.”

After checking his phone quickly, Sirius wandered down the hall, and in his absence a large black dog came out of the living room to set her head on Leo’s thigh. “Hey, Hattie.” He scratched her behind the ears and tore off a piece of his sandwich to give her.

“Oh. Hello.” Sirius sounded surprised.

“Hey, Cap.”

Leo froze and Remus’ eyes widened. “Have you heard from Leo?” Finn asked. “He’s not answering his phone.”

“Because of the fight,” Sirius said.

Remus dropped his face into his hands. “Tact,” he muttered. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Uh, yeah, actually.” Leo could picture Finn’s face in his head, uneasy and worried. “So he’s talked to you?”

“He’s been in our kitchen for the last half hour.”

“What?” Logan’s voice cracked. “He’s—can we come in?”

“No shoes in the house.” There was a moment of rustling, then a staccato pattern of footsteps in the hall before Logan and Finn appeared in the entrance.

“Mon dieu.” Logan nearly collapsed against the doorframe when he saw Leo; his eyes were red-rimmed and he seemed to be a bit of a wreck. “I’m so sorry, Peanut.”

“We’ll be upstairs if you need anything,” Remus said, slipping out of the room with a final glance to Leo.

“My phone was off, sorry,” he said quietly, feeding Hattie another bit of bread. The pressurized fury from before was completely gone—he only felt regretful now, and utterly exhausted. “I’m also sorry for yelling. And accusing you. And for dragging you into it, Finn. Oh, and for leaving.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Logan took two tentative steps closer and Leo stood up, holding his arms out. Relief crashed over his face and he nearly tackled him in a hug. “I took out my bad day on you and as soon as you were gone I regretted it. Merde, Leo, I’m sorry.”

Extra warmth cocooned them both as Finn joined the hug. “I love you both so much,” Leo mumbled into Logan’s hair.

Logan snuggled closer. “I love you, too.”

“Me, three.”

They all laughed weakly at that, stepping back and sitting down at the island. Leo bit the inside of his lip. “So…things were said.”

“Things were said,” Logan agreed. “I didn’t mean what I said about cleaning up after you.”

“I know. I didn’t mean what I said about tag-teaming.” He winced at the memory. “That was flat-out mean and uncalled for. And Finn…” Finn looked up from petting Hattie. “I used you as leverage and that was horrible.”

“Same here,” Logan said guiltily.

“Yeah, let’s not do that again, okay?” Finn looked between them and raised his eyebrows as they both nodded. “I don’t take sides when I’m choosing between my boyfriends.”

“Leo…” Logan started and trailed off.

“Yeah, Lo?”

He struggled for the words for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Do you—do you want to know what I said in the kitchen?”

In the kitchen…Leo wracked his brain and tried to remember. They had been arguing, and then Logan muttered something he couldn’t hear. He was tempted to say yes. “No, I’m good.”

“Really?”

He shrugged. “We were both upset. Whatever it is, I don’t think you meant it, so it doesn’t matter now. We’ve fought enough tonight.”

“Should we head home, then?” Finn suggested, taking both their hands. “I’m pretty tired and hungry.”

“You could ask Cap to make you a grilled cheese,” Leo joked. “They’re damn good.”

“Cap can cook?” they chorused incredulously.

[themculibrary]

Storms/Thunderstorms Masterlist

Links Last Checked: May 27th, 2024

All I can hear is the thunder (ao3) - callmebacktony N/R, 2k

Summary: Peter experiences a sensory overload in school because of the bad weather.

Of course Tony comes to his rescue.

Baby, It's Cold Outside (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor clint/sam G, 1k

Summary: Clint, Sam, Natasha and Bucky are staying in a cabin for a few days during the winter holidays. Unfortunately, Clint and Sam get trapped inside due to the blizzard outside. This wouldn't be a problem if Sam didn't have a crush on Clint.

Brilliant (ao3) - the1918 steve/bucky E, 3k

Summary: “Looks like that could brew into rain tonight,” Bucky muses. “I think I picked out the lady on the radio saying something about lightning, at least.”

Steve finishes the last plate and hands it to Bucky before turning off the sink. He wipes his wet hands on the kitchen rag over his shoulder, following the direction of Bucky’s gaze out the window.

“Would be kinda ominous if it weren’t for the sun lookin’ so pretty out there on the water.” Steve runs the rag over the edge of the countertop, cleaning up stray splashes from the sink. “Wanna go sit outside and watch it roll in?”

---

Between the events of CA:CW and Infinity War, Steve and Bucky have a moment of peace hidden away on an island in the Baltic Sea.

Head Trauma (ao3) - hailingstars T, 1k

Summary: Peter crashes through Tony's window during a Thunderstorm with his head gushing blood and with a Father's Day card in hand.

Hurricane Parker (ao3) - baloobird G, 2k

Summary: Peter is staying at a shelter with May during a hurricane and gets sensory overload in the midst of the chaos. Good thing he has a certain billionaire superhero in his corner.

If You Could See Me Now (ao3) - geekymoviemom pepper/tony T, 11k

Summary: New York City is bracing itself for the worst hurricane to hit in over thirty years, and the kid isn't back yet.

like a clock in a thunderstorm (ao3) - shellybelle clint/natasha E, 3k

Summary: Natasha is a quiet mind raised in silence, Clint a whirlwind raised in chaos. In the early days of their partnership they are drowning under the weight of unanswered questions, and when the heavens open, Natasha breaks, and Clint is a good man after all.

Locked In On Halloween Night (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor ned/peter G, 1k

Summary: Peter is not like most normal teenagers. He doesn't like Halloween, so he decides to spend his Halloween night at the library. Of course, he regrets this decision when a thunderstorm hits, causing Peter to be trapped inside during the storm.

New Neighbor (ao3) - quartermile steve/bucky G, 2k

Summary: Steve never thought that a thunderstorm would be the reason for meeting his building's new tenant, but he's sure glad the electricity is knocked out and his new neighbor can't find his candles or a flashlight.

Nothing a warm hug can’t fix (and get you out of the blues) (ao3) - ScarletPotter tony/stephen G, 900

Summary: Peter gets scared during a thunderstorm. It's his dads to the rescue.

petrichor (ao3) - peculiarblue mj/peter, betty/ned

Summary: when it rains it pours, and when it thunders, peter and mj dance

(college AU in which peter and mj fall in love to the sounds of bad music and the smell of rain on the pavement)

Pressure Changes (ao3) - sahiya pepper/tony G, 8k

Summary: Peter is pretty sure he's dying. Possibly of an aneurysm. (Spoiler: He's not.)

Protect Me From The Storm (ao3) - LadyAngelique, orphan_account steve/bucky E, 2k

Summary: Steve's afraid of thunderstorms. He hates them, they make him feel vulnerable and remind him of a time where Bucky was no longer at his side. And that hurt, like nothing he'd ever felt before.

storm (ao3) - parkerxheart G, 1k

Summary: Peter is deathly afraid of lightning, and it certainly doesn't help that his spider powers make it too loud to handle, but luckily for him, Tony's willing to give him comfort and cuddles, anything he needs.

Storm Incoming (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor clint/steve/tony N/R, 1k

Summary: Clint is terrified of storms, has been for as long as he can remember. But now, he has two alpha's to comfort and protect him from the storms, even though he sometimes forgets and needs reminding. Also, Bucky's there, because I thought it would be cute.

the lightning man (ao3) - angelheartbeat bruce/thor G, 2k

Summary: While hes on the run, the lightning delivers a bleeding, bruised god to Bruce's door, and suddenly he's got a viable reason to stick around.

Thunderstorm (ao3) - violetsunflowers (violet_sunflowers) G, 2k

Summary: May's away for the weekend leaving Peter home alone. Unfortunately for Peter there's a thunderstorm. Peter could deal with it, he didn't want his mentor knowing though, he didn't want to be weak. It was just a thunderstorm afterall. Unfortunately he pops in unexpectedly and drags Peter to the tower.

Will Peter manage to hide his fear from Mr Stark, or will he find that his mentor is more than willing to help him out.

Thunderstorm (ao3) - blackhawkinbudapest darcy/thor E, 6k

Summary: Darcy's plan was to have a quiet night, watch the storm roll in over the New Mexican desert and drink beer. It wasn't to chat with a god, get naked and rained on and have the night of her life.

[morsking]

and that’s all the endwalker role quests done! my ranking from most to least enjoyable would be

1. healer role quests: a wonderful love letter to the ala mhigo portion of stormblood. neatly concludes fordola’s character arc, gives arenvald a chance to show that his greatest qualities are his kindness and his spirit and that his self-determination isn’t held down by his disability, and showcases everything we love about raubahn and the strong sense of leadership nanamo has fostered since her days in arr. loved every second of it.

2. magic dps role quests: i’m homobiased towards aymeric, i’ll admit but i really do love the way the game keeps humanizing its antagonists. it did a great job showcasing that transitioning to a more secular society after millenia of living under a theocracy isn’t easy. while it was right to divide the church and state in ishgard, religion being such a fundamental part of its society meant that there were those who clung to it to weather the unrelenting and haunting storm of perpetual war. it’s not enough to expose the truth of history, it’s important to also lay it to rest. very good all around.

3. melee dps role quests: really enjoyed how they integrated the usually inconsequential decision making by truly immersing you in the role of leadership through personally getting to know the characters and their strengths to advance the plot. a lot of the time, your reputation speaks to your ability to command, but some still need to see just how good you are before they’ll answer to your call anyway. it was a really refreshing experience, though i do admit the sahagin antagonists could’ve been a little more fleshed out. it’s not bad, per se, that doww was so blinded by despair he wanted to cling to the belief that the corrupting demise of his people was their salvation, but i still feel like they didn’t lean into it enough. merlwyb’s kick-ass as always. 

4. tank dps role quests: kan-e-senna is the most forgettable of the eorzean leaders which is why it was nice she finally gets some time in the spotlight. i still feel kinda lukewarm towards her but at least it’s better than “i don’t particularly care about her”. the elementals however are so brutally temperamental it’s personally hard to feel good at all that the gridanians had to work to reconcile with them after they punished a child for some other man’s deceptive dickheadery. 

5. the. *long groan* ranged physical dps role quests. whatever frustrations you had with the doma portion of stormblood become double the more aggravating here. the game as a whole makes it a point about how important it is to understand your enemy, about how an opponent may only be what they are because circumstances forced them to be, and otherwise they could have been your ally. this quest series never ever stops telling you people hated yotsuyu and are still scared of her after she died. but never once does anyone stand up for yotsuyu’s memory and remind them that she was also a product of her environment, another victim of not just garlean occupation but of the existing society that did nothing to interfere with her abuse and prostitution. yotsuyu is the only antagonist that isn’t afforded the consideration and understanding from other npcs the likes of emet-selch and ilberd are. it is legitimately infuriating that they want to make you like hien by showing you how much he loves his people and wants to bring them a new tomorrow that is, in fact, good, but they also make him look woefully spineless by being unable to properly defend his decision to spare yotsuyu, in fact doubling down on how oh so regretful it was that he didn’t kill her, as if that’s somehow what was fair and right and not utterly cruel and unjust? i cannot believe they let this questline release as they did because it is just so chockfull of cognitive dissonance it lowered my iq to read through it. but hey at least yugiri is there.

[izur-x]

Thunderstorm

Pairing ~ nagito/reader

Genre + warning ~ comfort, vent(?), Fluff, Anxiety, panic attack, killing game, swearing, A LITTLE SPICY 😊.

Summary ~ an unusual happen in the island, a thunderstorm. It's very VERY unusual, since komaeda got tied up......let's see what is going to happen( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Note ~ this is an apologies for everyone who read and cried about my one-shot about komaeda

"is it just me or the weather seem off today."

"now that you mention it, it is weird...." You said, monomi pop up out of nowhere, "everyone! Seems like there will be a storm! Please return to individual rooms or cottage before the storm hit!" Monomi announced.

Everyone panic, and begin to pack some food and drinks. You had this feeling....you seem to forget about something, but you don't know what it is, you shrug the feelings away.

You go to the market and grab supplies so you don't get bored, and just in case...you grab a raincoat and an umbrella, "alright, let's leave and head to cottage." The previous feelings...it keeps stronger, you grow uncomfortable while walking.

As you arrived at your cottage, you now remember what is missing...seems everyone forget about it too.."that's right! We forgot about komaeda! Shittt." The storm had just begun, "FUCKING SHIT, THIS IS WHY I HATE STORMS."

"But I can't just leave him in a place like that—" you have no choice, you keep repeating in your head that you were going to regret this over and over again. You put on some raincoat that you purchase and go outside.

The wind was strong, the lightning strike's causing you to flinch, you ran to the cabin, luckily, it's wasn't far away. You finally arrived at the cabin, and quickly go to the place where Byakuya killed.

As you open the door, you see the white-haired boy, laying on the ground, shivering, he looks so helpless.. "ah...(l/n)..of course, you d—" "komaeda! Sorry, but let's go to my cottage, we have no time."

Because he's being tied up, it's hard to figure out to carry him to your cottage, but in the end, it works. But you two now we're all wet, "hey nagito, I will bring you your clothes, wait okay?" Nagito nodded, your head outside and go to his cottage, and grab some of his clothes.

As you return to your cottage and see nagito with no shirt. Just a towel to hide his male reproduction. "Oh! Your back, thank you l/n! I truly didn't deserve this." "Oh please! It's fine, also, call me y/n!" Nagito smile "okay! Call me nagito!" You nodded and give him his clothing and wait for him to finish changing.

As nagito come out of the bathroom, it's your turn to change, so you did. You come out of the bathroom, and see nagito sitting on the floor, "nagito, you don't have to sit down on the floor." "No no, it's fine like this, besides it's your cottage..."

You sigh, "it's fine, I don't mind if you sit on my bed, also I need to get your wrists to bandage from the chain." You grab the bandage and begin to bandaging his wrists. "Alright! It's done." "Thank you, y/n, I don't deserve..." "Shush, you deserve this, I don't want to see you being treated so awful."

"Y/n..." "No need to thank me, here, let me dry your hairs." I put on a fresh towel and put it onto his wet hairs, and I busy drying his hair, I didn't know that we were too close. His eyes were locked into you and stared at it.

"And done, I will out this towel away–" before you could get up, nagito hug you and accidentally pinned you down, "w-woah! Nagito?!" "Why are you so kind to me..." "H-huh? What do you mean?" "You treated me like I was someone special...judging how you act to others and how you act around me..."

"U-uhm—" "a-ah! Sorry for making you uncomfortable." He relies upon the hug but still pinned you down on the bed. You notice that he was....crying "h-hey, nagito, are you alright?" You placed your palm into his cheeks and gently wipe his tears.

"I-I'm fine, don't worry." He looks directly at you "how come you didn't scared of me?" "Uhm, I don't know?" He kinda surprised of your answer, I'm pretty sure that he could tell if you are lying or not.

"Oh, alright then—" lightning strike causing the power outages. You were scared of the thunder but seeing nagito from the bottom and the light source from the thunder/lightning from outside through the window.

From nagito perspective, being on top of you, seeing you under him making his heart skip a beat, his eyes locked into your lips.

"Umh...nagito are you alright? Yo-you've been staring at my lips for the last two minutes— are yo-mhp—" nagito lips crash into your, you swear you hear him saying sorry, the kiss turns out longer, as you both pull apart.

You two we're heavily breathing and gasping, "I-I'm sorry- but I could help it—" "its fine, nagito, I...don't mind.." 'Besides...I love you...'

"You love me?" His eyes were widened "no, I suppose, I already knew about this...despite how you act around me." your cheeks became hot, your mind was fizzy, couldn't process any of what he said.

"Y/n." "Y-yes nagito?" He smiled softly "thank you, and I truly doesn't deserve this but, I love you." He laid down beside you and hold you tightly, making you comfortable with the pressure.

"Love you too, nagito."

Side note ~ YEY ITS DONE, ALSO I MADE A LOT OF MISTAKE IN THIS FANFICTION 😍💔 hope you enjoyed this, I've been able to finish this at 1 am, smh