#thunder fic

[keyblack]

ma'am I need your funniest fanfiction chapter. no that's too funny

[infinite-eternity]

Spreading my JayVik jayce suffering agenda by recommending you fanfiction. (all on ao3)

Metal and Magic by @dodecadragon - Explicit, Violence. Fae AU, 100k + words. absolutely stunning making me insane

Good Luck, Babe by Kosmos_Relic - Explicit, Violence. Post Canon fix it. I cant elaborate more bc spoilers but oh my god. holy fuckin shit. 100k + words but no set chap limit so might be wayy over.

and this pounding in my heart just wont die by Kookimunjoo - Explicit. This is ABO so be warned if youre not into that. stunning, we are making him suffer so much. 25k words, complete

Also MAYBE he can be a BIT happy sometimes so Paradox of the Heap (Sorites Paradox) by StarSparrow84 - Mature, 40k+ words. Holy fuckin shit absolutely stunning. About classism and is so beautifully written. Also Jayce and Viktor wear sparkly outfits.

Anyway add more if you have recs i want to read them

[kayla-and-the-moon]

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

thinking of remus with his arms around you, fingertips drawing soothing patterns on your back as your face hides in his shirt. you've always despised thunderstorms, and he knows this. you never told him outright. of course, you'd think it was embarrassing. you'll even try to keep a brave face, but remus can see through you, annoyingly observant and quite possibly the most darling of boys. he catches the micro flinch in your tightlipped smile whenever there's a particularly bright flash or deafening crash behind the curtains. so wordlessly, he enfolds you in his arms, holds you against his jumper like you're made of porcelain. it almost makes your chest ache with how gentle he's being, you're almost immediately calmer as the musky scent of cinnamon tea, worn books and chocolate hanging off his clothes fills your senses.. he's making sure your eyes aren't nervously darting to the windows, planting plush kisses filled with sweetness on your head, warm pads of his thumbs swiping over your cheeks. he's making you look at him with a gentle tilt of your chin with his palm. he'll do this till your pupils stop shaking and your breathing is more evened, whispering the softest comfort in your ears, his voice the richest honey. if it's an awfully long bout of thunder, and you're yet to fall into slumber, he'll offer to read to you (you always agree). so he does. and whenever it gets to particularly dramatic part, he'll flip his tone theatrically just to provide some distraction and when he feels you laugh against him, he knows he's succeeded. finally when you're drifted off, your back a steady rise and fall under his hand, the storm long gone, and he's looking at you with stars in his eyes, well remus thinks his heart is a few sizes too small for the love he keeps for you.

˚⋆𐙚｡ 𖦹.ᡣ𐭩˚

[mischievous-thunder]

Wade: I've written a beautiful love letter for Logan. He'd be surprised if a letter came in the mail for him. He's a sweet old man.

Also, Wade: *Gets nervous and cancels his plan and proceeds to post the letter on his Wolverine fan account instead*

[inexplicifics]

I wrote flash fic! The Cruelest Monsters is the next in the Volleyed and Thundered series:

...are men. Out on the Path, Eskel and Lambert encounter the Monstrum. And then they hear about its results.

[loveu2themoonandsaturn]

Nurse Harrington to the Rescue

Steve Harrington x gn!reader

a/n: warning, highly self-indulgent and hastily written sick fic ahead because I’ve been unwell and wish I was being cared for by this motherfucker and not myself, lmfao. also, no clue why, but the scoops ahoy hat was super giving nurse/candy striper realness to me so that’s the gif you all get to go with this. I’m posting this and then I’m going to bed. reblogs, likes, comments etc. are always encouraged and appreciated, my beloveds.

while this work is benign, this blog is 18+ so MINORS DNI

tags: sick reader (very, very vague, could literally be any short-term illness), no pronouns used toward reader, steve harrington is a blushy little simp and a huge sap, no use of y/n (because we watched two seasons of fleabag and never learned the main character’s name so at this point i’m learning from the school of phoebe waller-bridge), reader cracks a joke at the expense of straight men, not beta’d because author wrote this while feeling like a pile of shit 🩵

w/c: 1.1k

The sound of your groan echoes down through the hall of your shared apartment as Steve rushes to make it back from the kitchen to your side, a cup of tea, a glass of water and some pain medicine in tow.

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m sorry, shhh,” he says lowly as he crossed the threshold of your bedroom door.

“Don’t need to apologize. Just sucks,” you say from your spot on the bed. The very same spot you’d been occupying for the past several days now.

You’d fallen ill over the weekend, the sickness bringing with it aches and pains and all sorts of other fun symptoms. God knows you’ve been better.

You chuckle to yourself now, though, always one to make light of a shit situation. “You know, I think I may finally be experiencing nearly half the agony the average straight man does when he catches a cold,” you snort, looking at your very kind and patient boyfriend who has dedicated himself to playing your doctor, nurse, personal chef, maid… the list has only grown as the days have passed.

Steve spares you a smile, briefly, but is clearly very preoccupied, worry only growing when you let out another pained noise. That smile quickly becomes a grimace at that. He frowns, looking down at the person who always takes up all of his waking thoughts when things are good… seeing you like this? He’s struggled to have a thought that isn’t about you for at least the last 48 hours.

“Here, sweetie, take these,” Steve says as he starts putting some of the many things he had been juggling down on the bedside table. He produces the bottle of pain killers from his pocket and presses it into your palm. He pushes the glass of water closer to you, almost as if he thinks you might strain yourself reaching another two inches over for it. You’re thankful for the thought he gives you even in spite of its potential inaccuracy. You weakly smile up at him. “Thanks Steve. You’re too good to me,” you say, tossing pills onto your tongue before taking a sip of water.

Steve, who has become startlingly easy to fluster since high school ended, just blushes, scratching the back of his head before running a hand through the ever-perfect poof of hair that lives on top of his head. “Of course… s’the least I can do when you’re not feeling well, love,” he says, a pitying smile resting on his lips as he looks back at you.

You make a noise of disagreement around your mouthful of pills and water, swallowing. “You didn’t have to stay home from work today, I would have been alright on my own. Some of these daytime soaps aren’t even half bad,” you joke. “I could have managed. I appreciate all the work you’re putting in to helping me get better,” you say as you reach for his hand, fighting the urge to press a gentle kiss to the back of it.

Steve just shakes his head though, adoring eyes taking stock of you. He lets go of your hand to press both of his into the sides of your face, leaning down to look into your eyes. “I’d much rather be here and judge the sick-day soap opera quality in person,” he chuckles out with a smile that crinkles his eyes just so. “But seriously, there’s nowhere else I would be right now. Wouldn’t have been able to focus at work anyways knowing you were feeling all crummy,” he says, squeezing your face gently to tell you he’s being serious.

If you didn’t “feel all crummy,” as your beloved boyfriend so eloquently put it, you really would have swooned at that. How sweet could one man be?

As you are, you hum, sighing gently so as to not rouse any of your present pains. “You’re cute, you know that?” you tell Steve.

There’s that blush again.

“Anyway,” he starts, “I’m gonna run out to the deli and get you soup. I’ll be back before you know it.” He starts toward the door, only pausing when you protest.

“Wait… please stay? Just for a bit? The deli doesn’t close until eight tonight, I’d much rather have you here with me for a little bit,” you say, pouting. If Steve didn’t know how unwell you were, he might have thought it was on purpose.

“I dunno, baby… You haven’t eaten much today, I’d really like to get some food in you,” he says, biting his lip as he considers. God, it’s cute.

“Just an hour, and then I’ll release you to your duties as a personal shopper and courier,” you joke, negotiating. Steve curses mentally, damning how easily you can always convince him. He tries to hold on to some semblance of control here though, pretending to think it over a bit more.

“Just one hour? And then no funny business?” he says, looking at you sternly, though there’s no heat behind it.

“On my great-great grandfather’s grave, no funny business. I’ll put the keys in the ignition myself, scout’s honor,” you say, a hopeful look in your eyes. It’s the most energy Steve has seen you have in days; he can’t really bring himself to take that away from you now.

“You most certainly will not be putting any keys in any ignitions or doing anything outside of this bed until that fever breaks, you got me?” Steve says, mom mode activated. It makes you laugh, something you helplessly try to stifle. You straighten yourself up, trying to return to your serious negotiator persona.

“I got you. Does that mean you’re staying?” Steve could bury the lede all he wants with you, but you were always going to find it. He sighs in defeat.

“One hour,” he says as he crawls into the bed, startling you.

“Hey, hey, thought you didn’t want to get sick!” you say; now it’s your turn to sound concerned.

Steve just shrugs, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. “I’ll be okay. And if I’m not, I’m sure I’ve earned myself a truly lovely nurse to bring me back to health,” he mutters, kissing the top of your head one, two, then three times.

You grumble at this, but secretly, you’re grateful for the affection.

He holds you like that for exactly an hour, true to his word, even though you fell asleep just 10 minutes in, the tea he had made for you long forgotten. He scoots out of the bed, gentle as he makes his way out the door.

You sleep soundly, unaware he was ever even gone until he returns with plastic takeout containers of your favorite soup from the deli and a smile on his face. He loves to take care of you like this, and how could he not?

You’re his favorite person, the love of his life. He could do this every single day.

[crownremonique]

Thunder

Pairing: Tim Bradford x gn!reader

Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: When a thunderstorm hits the city, Tim comes back early from his shift to comfort his astrophobic partner.

A/N: Very short drabble because I had absolutely no motivation to write but I also love Tim. (300 words approx)

The storm clouds loomed above the city, thunder crackling through them every few minutes. You pulled your fuzzy blanket closer around yourself, trying to drown out the noises of the storm. Tim had a late shift today, and unfortunately for you, the storm had also chosen tonight to grace the skies. 

You never liked thunderstorms, and so far you must have tried about a thousand methods to try and distract yourself. The sound of the main door opening pulled your thoughts away from the storm and towards the man who had just walked in. Tim's eyes went wide as he took in your form, huddling on the couch covered in blankets and pillows, as he remembered your deep hatred towards thunderstorms. 

You called out to him, grateful that he was finally home and very much ready to spend the night cuddling into his side. He took a few steps forward, but stopped abruptly when he realised he still had rain droplets clinging to his clothes. A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, painting the sky white with a thunderous boom, causing you to tug at your blanket and cower inside it. Tim emerged from your bedroom, dressed in a comfy pair of sweatpants and pulled you into his arms. 

‘It's alright sweetheart, come here..” he spoke in your ears, causing shivers to run down your spine, momentarily forgetting the storm. You nestled into his embrace, body relaxing completely. He ran his hand through your hair, covering the both of you with the blanket that you had thrown aside. Tim knew you hated storms, and always made sure to cut his shift a little early if there was one forecasted for the day. 

You were eternally grateful to Tim, happy that you had someone who cared so much about your wellbeing, going out of his way to offer you some comfort when you needed it the most. And you were going to cherish him, for as long as you could. 

✨️

[justiceiscalling]

why have i never seen any batman fics based off epic the musical songs??? like omg i was just listening to the playlist and i was thinking, wtf, why is ruthlessness so jason todd coded??

"you are the worst kind of good cause you're not even great! a greek who reeks of self righteousness, that's what i hate! cause you fight to save lives, but won't kill and don't get the job done. i mean you totally could've avoided all this had you just killed my son! but no."

like if that's not jason to bruce then what else is it????

'we'll be fine' is so tim to literally everyone post jasons death and pre his revival reveal.

really i just want to see a fic series of epic the musical but with batfam members instead but like relate each fic to a song in epic. really, you could just make odysseus jason and then tim can be telemachus. and if you want a romance you can make penelope artemis or rose or roy or bring back rena (jason todd's first girlfriend pre-death), idc. or you can just not include romance and twist the lyrics to be more familial, and make penelope bruce or alfred or literally anyone jason has a familial bond with.

make polities roy, make eurdycice talia or just someone who would try to overrule jason if he was being too reckless. it literally does not matter to me.

so overall i'd love to see a series of fics where jason (i'll also accept damian or tim but i don't know about dick) is basically in odysseus situation and is trying to get back home to gotham OR a series of fics where songs from epic the musical apply to the batfam.

i hope this rant made sense, please PLEASE let me know if a fic like this is in the process of being made or is already made. i'm craving it.

[jay72664]

Thunder

Bang!

A loud crash of thunder rang through the apartment, causing Chuuya to bolt upright.

It was a silly thing to be afraid of, really; a storm.

Chuuya Nakahara, the feared Port Mafia Executive.

Afraid of a little thunder.

Dazai stirred beside him, his arm still curled around Chuuya’s waist.

“What’s wrong?” the brunette asked groggily.

Another loud slap of thunder answered his question.

Dazai sat up, turning on the beside lamp and taking in the ginger’s posture.

He was clenching the bed sheet, his pupils dilated, and his breathing out of whack.

He gently pulled Chuuya to his side.

“It’s okay,” he cooed softly, not at all judgmentally nor teasingly as one might expect.

Another bang of thunder and the smaller man buried himself further against his husband’s side, clutching into his shirt.

“Let’s watch a movie, okay? It’ll distract you.” Dazai reached to grab the remote.

“I don’t wanna keep you up,” Chuuya mumbles, his normally confident and boisterous voice, now quiet and shaky, and he flinches as yet more lightening strikes.

The brunette scoffs, finding his husband’s words absolutely ridiculous. “I owe you for all the sleepless night I’ve given you.”

“Those were different they were-“ he stops as the lightening lights up the room, followed by a loud clap of thunder, and Dazai pulls him against him even more, as if he could shield him from the noise.

“Life or death,” Chuuya finally finishes.

“Doesn’t matter,” is all Dazai says.

Despite knowing how pointless it was to argue with Dazai on this, he tries anyway.

“It does matter, you should sleep.” Right after saying this however, he takes the remote out of Dazai’s hands.

If they’re gonna watch something, it’s not gonna be some crappy movie Dazai picks.

The brunette smirks, knowing he’s won. “I can’t sleep anyways.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing his darling Chibi was scared.

“You’re a goddamn idiot,” there was no annoyance at all in Chuuya’s words, in fact, he was actually quite happy Dazai was willing to stay awake just because he was a little scared of something stupid.

Bang!

Maybe a lot scared.

[teatime-at-4]

finally drew some more for this AU

can't believe I haven't drawn Rumble/Savage (or the extra one from the concept art) before- this art isn't currently tied to any chapter, but it might be one day s here's the fic

[kudossi]

and a yellow moon glowed bright

Years later, when Ivypool herself is only a memory and before she’s completely lost to time, she’ll look over ThunderClan, wherever they might be, and still look for her daughter in every face.

The stories have it wrong already, and the truth will be dust before long. Bristlefrost isn’t alive in their memories. She’s twice-dead, drowned in black, choking water, a light snuffed out too soon. Bristlefrost was the prodigy — the daughter cats dreamed of, the first to find her voice and her paws, the leader of her siblings, the apprentice who did not graduate even earlier than she did because there was no prey in the forest to be found, not because of any failings on her part.

Cats starved, that long winter. Not Bristlefrost. Never her daughter, her clever, resourceful last-born. And she had once occupied this spot, designated for deputies, even though she’d never had an apprentice of her own. Would never have an apprentice of her own, now, even though she deserved it more than anything. Even though she’d deserved to stay deputy, but had given the role over with a smile, no hint of dark ambition in her gaze.

Ivypool steps into the deputy position under a brand-new leader with a whisper instead of a bang, the pounding of blood in her ears the only reminder that cats had been here before — that cats had died here before, and that Bramblestar’s first deputy becoming leader was a fluke, an odd quirk of fate. It hasn’t been done in living memory, nor long before that. Leaders do not usually step down, and when they do, they rarely stay with their Clan, or even within reach of their territory. First deputies do not often become leaders in turn. Usually this event is a bittersweet one, with a body or bodies laid out in the clearing, their eyes closed swiftly to avoid the rigor of after-death, but this is almost-peaceful, with only the murmurs of those who could not easily accept change as detractors.

Ivypool will die long before Squirrelstar. She’s—surprisingly okay with this, but she thinks she’s been at peace with her death since before Hollyleaf had stepped between her and a deathblow from one of the only friends she’d ever had.

(“You were my friend!” Ivypool screams in her worst nightmares, Hollyleaf’s blood dripping from her pelt.

“I was never anyone’s friend,” Hawkfrost murmurs in return, something aching-sad in his voice, Hollyleaf’s lifeless form pinned under his claws. “I was born to what I am. We’re the same, you and I.” He pushes the black cat away from his paws with disgust — not for the body, but for Ivypool herself. Blood bubbles from the horrible wound at the corpse’s throat. “She should have been the one,” he says sometimes, in the ones that shatter her already pieced-together heart. “She died in your place.”

“I know,” Ivypool says, and she does know — she knows it more than anyone else alive.)

“It should have been Hollyleaf,” she says to Squirrelstar, quietly, at the end of one of their dusk meetings.

Sorrow flashes in Squirrelstar’s gaze, but it’s buried as soon as it comes. “It’s you,” she says. “It has always been you.”

It is not a truth — not in the way Ivypool remembers them from her childhood — but it is not a lie, either. Hollyleaf chose her, in the way dying deputies might choose their successor. She is always an echo of another cat burned by starlight. It is a comfort, sometimes. In others, she begs the spirit who’d saved her life for mercy, for clemency, until she runs out of breath.

(“I’ll find her,” whispers a voice Ivypool had almost forgotten, in dreams she forgets as soon as she wakes. “I’ll walk the skies ceaselessly, I promise you.”

But there is no bringing Bristlefrost back, and a part of Ivypool has died with her.)

When Ivypool wakes, her Clanmates breathe around her, steadying her rabbit-quick heart. Fernsong’s tail wraps snugly around her flank, Thriftear curled only one nest behind, and she does not lose her breath at the way Flipclaw’s dark tabby stripes curl over his spine. She hasn’t in a long time, she knows, but the impulse is there, sharp as ice underneath her ribs.

(She’d once thought his brown tabby pelt a punishment from the stars. She loves her son, would give her life for him, but the feeling that StarClan may have meted some punishment down in the shade of his pelt remains long after he’s received his warrior name.

She’d begged Bramblestar to give him a suffix that was as unassumingly kind and silly as her son always was. Instead he’d given him -claw, as if to remind her of her failings. She is not sorry to see his form slip into the elders’ den, bereft of the nine lives he’d once so jealously hoarded.)

[southdiamond89blogging]

EPIC The Musical but with Kanej would work so well

[forwhatiam]

Roll Like Thunder

by croisblue for @1dneglectedtagsfest

When quadriplegic Louis Tomlinson's therapist recommends he see a surrogate partner, he panics, thinking this is yet another way he's being belittled for his disability. When said surrogate partner turns out to be Harry Styles, a nearly inhumanly beautiful man who's gone back to school for a certificate in Disability Studies, Louis finds he doesn't mind so much.

M - 9.5k

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

The Thunder That Follows - Masterlist

Frank Castle x Reader

Summary: After a mysterious incident, reader finds herself transported from this reality into a world that she's only seen in movies and on tv filled with Avengers, aliens, and vigilantes. When she crosses paths with Frank Castle, things get complicated as they both have to face their tumultuous pasts and a find a way to move on from them together.

Warnings: Female/AFAB Reader. I will try my hardest to keep Y/N out of it. Covid 19 mention, canon-typical violence (guns and things), mild description of injuries, eventual smut (please do not read those chapters unless you are 18+ and have your age on your blog.) I will add additional warnings as I write the story and each chapter will have individual warnings.

Notes: AHHHH I've had this idea for two years and I'm finally committing and writing it down. Inspired by my Frank dating and Avenger post.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Chapter 1 - Do You Think I'd Give Up? Chapter 2 - It Was Too Soon

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on Tumblr to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platforms I currently post on are Tumblr and AO3. Thanks!*

[kindaorangey]

makes my eye twitch when people apply dynamics to danstat/armandaniel that canonically apply to danlou

[greenjellybeanfish]

[ "Take your time." ]

Fan art of "Like a Rolling Thunder Chasing the Wind" by @batmurdock (Spacebrock on Ao3 - chapter 4 specifically). This fic hurt.