this has been hard for me to say and i know this feeling has been creeping up on me for the last month but i have just ignored it as i have a profound attachment to this hellsite, even though it is dying.
i'm not leaving but i need to take a break (or hiatus, for want of a better word) from tumblr for a while. it might be a whole month, and i most definitely will be popping back in every so often just to check up on everyone through ask boxes and post fics (the most urgent ones is the halloween fic and the fic for sirius' birthday) and then i'm going to be going off again.
i have mocks (exams) that take place in two weeks today and whilst i have been studying, i need to be doing more. i can't be distracted by notifications or anything on here, i can't afford to waste time anymore.
it'll only be a month for now, but once it gets to about march or april time, i'll be going for a lot longer.
please don't unfollow me because i'm NOT leaving, but i need a break. you can always binge read my masterlist if u wanna read some of my writing !!!
you can even go to see my ao3 for some fics i've not posted on here <3
next summer i'll be living it up doing absolute fuck all with my mates and i'm looking forward to it, so idk if i'll even be active then. but i'll be allowed to leisurely waste time, and i might even start a new blog if this one's died out.
i'm gonna tag my dear moots to let them know and if you want my snap, insta and tiktok, just send me an ask and i'll privately answer them <3
and as for my other asks, i'll answer them but it won't be straight away
request: ‘the prom’ (wlw) from a night at the theatre
a/n: i am more than prepared taja thank u🫂
Finding time alone with Hermione was an endless challenged.
Your schedules were conflicting, Hermione having classes when you were off, and you having classes when Hermione was off. Your free periods almost never overlapped, with the exception of half an hour on a Monday, but Ron happened to share that free period, and he followed you and Hermione around like a lost puppy during it despite numerous pleas.
Even when you did have time together, it seemed to get interrupted. You couldn’t sit on the common room sofa without Harry dropping into an armchair and ranting about his day. You couldn’t sit alone for breakfast without Ginny rushing over to gush about her latest romance. You couldn’t enjoy weekends at Hogsmeade without bumping into a classmate who wanted to show you the useless item they’d found in a shop.
But, after a whole lot of time and patience, the two of you finally found your spot. A corner of the Hogwarts Library that was hidden by towering shelves of Muggle classics and Herbology textbooks. A place so far out of reach that barely anyone ever stumbled across it, especially seeing as barely any students had an interest in classic literature, and Herbology was easy enough to not require additional textbooks.
“Good afternoon, darling,” greeted Hermione as you sat on the velvet cushioned chair opposite hers. She nudged a glass of water towards you, then picking up her pot of ink and placing that an a quill between you. “How did you sleep?”
“I slept well,” you replied, stretching in your chair before sipping from the glass, feeling refreshed as the cold liquid trickled down your throat. “You could have woken me up. We would’ve been able to spend more time together that way.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Hermione with a soft laugh, looking ethereal in the light that slithered in through the half-opened curtains. “We have all the time in the world. I enjoy every meeting with you, no matter how long or short they are.”
“Sappy,” you scoffed teasingly, taking sheets of parchment from your satchel and placing them down on the table. “What are we studying for today?”
“Well, I’ve been writing up Transfiguration notes,” said Hermione, nodding to the parchment she was rolling up. “Harry dragged me on a little adventure again, so I had to borrow Neville’s, which was easy enough as I could ignore the little doodles.”
You laughed, taking Neville’s parchment from Hermione and examining the simplistic handwriting. It was neat and understandable, heavily contrasted by the scribbles of various plants and frog faces scattered down the side of the parchment. You handed the parchment back to Hermione with a shake of your head, amused by your friend’s childlike antics.
“So, we can study whatever you want to,” finished Hermione, tucking two rolled up sheets of parchment into her satchel and pulling out some fresh sheets.
“Hm,” you hummed, brows furrowed as you considered your options. You had a Potions test coming up, and you though you weren’t too keen on Snape by any means, you didn’t really feel like failing his subject out of spite. “I think I’ll start with Potions.”
What about a roomate AU with Bucky Barnes with this prompt
There is a blackout in the whole building and now we have to wait in the dark, waiting for someone to fix it
Where the reader or Bucky (one of them) is afraid of the dark and the other has to take care of them
Thank you!! ❤
pairing: bucky barnes x reader
request: ‘grease’ (trope) from a night at the theatre
a/n: roommate au’s my beloved - chose the reader as the one who’s scared of the dark btw :)
You couldn’t help but wonder why Fury had sent such a large group of you on a mission that mostly consisted of sitting around and waiting for something to happen. And you couldn’t help but wonder why he’d decided to shove you into an apartment with a man that you had a blatantly obvious crush on. Fury was sly like that.
Staying with Bucky wasn’t too bad, though. He was more than respectful of your space and he always cleaned up after himself, unlike some of the other Avengers in the complex. You couldn’t go a day without Natasha ranting about Wanda’s habit of leaving clothes scattered on the floor, but you were grateful for your friend’s presence. It meant that you had someone to rant to yourself when the closeness with Bucky was a bit too much for your heart to handle.
But, tonight, you didn’t have the option to go and visit Natasha. She was out for lunch with Steve, Wanda and Sam, leaving only you and Bucky in your apartment. You’d thought about going for a walk, heading out of your room in a raincoat and walking shoes. You flinched as a clap of thunder boomed outside the safety of your temporary home, and Bucky let out a halfhearted laugh from his spot on the couch.
“I don’t think you’re going anywhere in this weather,” quipped Bucky, arms folded across his chest after he paused the movie on the TV. “I don’t like storms that much either. You can come watch a movie with me if you want. Keep each other company.”
You were taken aback by the offer, honestly. You were used to being in such close proximity to the man now, but it was rare that he actually asked you do stuff with him other than grocery runs and cooking. He quirked a brow, awaiting your response which came with a prompt nod before you rushed back into your room to change into comfier clothes.
Just as you were about to push open your door, the room darkened completely. You jumped, heart pounding in your chest as you scrambled to get your phone out of your pocket and switch on the torch. After your light didn’t switch on following vigorous attempts to flick the switch, you realised one of your worst nightmares had come into play.
The power had gone out.
“Buck?” you called, growing freaked out at the sheer darkness of your room. Your phone didn’t illuminate all of it, and you were too frightened to push open your door to be greeted with another black abyss. “Bucky, I think the power has gone out.”
“I figured that much,” responded Bucky, and you flinched away from you door over how close he sounded. He must have heard you jump, as he took a deep breath before speaking. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I’m gonna open your door now. Is that okay?”
“Go ahead,” you responded, stepping back from the door so that it didn’t hit you upon opening.
The door opened slowly, and you willed your body not to jump back in fright at the darkness behind it. Bucky helped put it off anyway, his torch shining in your face causing you to squint your eyes to adjust. He did the same, and you didn’t even realise your torch was shining directly in his eyes until then. You both adjusted your holds on your phones with sheepish apologies.
“You alright? You look a little shaken,” queried Bucky, leaning against the doorframe. You envied how unbothered he was by the situation at hand.
“I’m not a fan of the dark,” you admitted. “Do you think there’s anything you can do? Or do we just have to wait it out?”
Bucky contemplated for a few moments, brows furrowed as he bit his lip in thought. Then he nodded, going to turn and walk off before you called out to him for the second time that night.
“What’s up?”
“Can I come with you?” you asked, voice shaky as you timidly held out your hand. “Do you, um, do you mind if I h-hold your hand? Would that be- would that be okay? Sorry, I’m just a little-“
“You’re fine, darlin’,” smiled Bucky, his warm hand encasing your freezing one. The temperature contrast was grounding, and the gentleness he led you with let warmth fill your body, washing away the thoughts of your fears.
Bucky squatted down in front of the power box, keeping a loose grip on your hand as he did so. He used his free hand to flip open the box, thick brows furrowed in focus as he looked for the problem. After a few seconds, Bucky seemed to pinpoint the problem as he let out a soft ‘ah’ and nodded.
“Alright, I’m gonna have to let go of your hand a sec,” warned Bucky, his grip loosening before disappearing fully. Your breath caught in your throat, and you shuffled a bit closer to Bucky so that your leg was pressed against his body. “That’s it. Just keep shining that torch for me, princess. It’ll all be fine in a moment.”
Bucky fiddled around with the various wires and switches in the box, harmless little sparks coming out here and there. After one final flick of a switch, the lights flickered back on. You let out a sigh of relief, dropping to the floor next to Bucky. The two of you leaned against one of the walls in the narrow room, simply letting out deep breaths as the exhaustion and worry faded away.
“That was… a journey,” you said, a light chuckle escaping your lips as your head drooped forward, the fear taking a tiring toll on you. “Still wanna watch that movie?”
“You were very brave, doll,” assured Bucky, letting out a laugh of his own. He took your hand in his again, and it felt so much more meaningful under the new circumstances. “And of course I do. Anything for you.”
warnings: bandana reference to s2 but other than that *no obx2 spoilers, absolutely so long for no reason, getting drunk/alcohol, partying, mentions of jj’s trauma, insinuations of drowning, protective!jj, established relationship, kissing, swearing, pet names, overall fluff
join my taglist here.
There was only a concise list that could make the Pogue’s, of the North Carolina land, content for the day.
The first being the beaming sun, the daughter of the sky, where she took her rightful place on the horizon of the sky and let her rays cascade onto the world, shifting the scene into full view, adjusting the brightness and contrast.
Fishing trips were a close second. A dense pole of metal placed in your dominant hand as you reared in the mammals of the lake and bet your most insignificant items in friendly competition.
And salt water; the water by the shore had breathed like its own, the rippling surface rising and falling with rhythmic ease from a long day's tension. The waves as its bounding pulse, the distinct echo of your very friend's boisterous laughter kept safe in its cradle of brine.
All a Pogues favourable ideologies and activities in collective sentences.
Today the world had put all three in your gracious favour (With a rapid cheer from JJ’s end.) as well as an added bonfire for a bundle of teenagers after dusk.
JJ had first opted to take the HMS Pogue out on the brink of dawn where the sun had yet to make her first appearance. He had toured the boat to the preeminent fishing spot in all of the Outer banks where his friends would typically consist most of the day in pass time bliss.
Yet, you found him almost a villain for having the uttermost audacity to perch himself atop of the rim, that obtained the boat together, with his sandy hair tucked loosely beneath a backwards cap and his indigo tank-top discarded somewhere across the boat.
Every so often he’d inadvertently glance in your direction, a habit presently coming to be teased every so often by John B and Kie, your cordial gaze deciphering every grove across his muscular abdomen that gleamed in the droplets of the lake.
The day went onward as the Pogues decided on venturing out to the beach to surf a whole dozen waves (a new record they were attempting to beat.)
An endeavour Sarah didn't pursue, rather she remained seated on the sand with a striped towel underneath her as she fiddled with the remaining string of a bandana clung to the configuration of her neck and her umber irises twinkling at the surfing Pogue she had come to know and love.
John B was on the brutal receiving end of comical comments as your, and JJ’s, faux swoons and mockeries, regarding his love life, had continued across the water between surfing breaks.
After a tiresome half-dozen waves surfed, you elected to lay along your waxed surfboard in the curling waves as the visible remnants of your friends had competitively attempted to out-win the other, another bunch of impish competition to venture through the day. But the doting gaze that swirled in your irises was promptly returned on JJ’s behalf.
He felt as if his tongue had disintegrated into sand in his mouth the moment his cerulean oculars adhered to you beyond the water.
Your spine was adjacent to the cerise-coloured board, the prominence to a spotlight was clear as the sun was gently fanning across every inch of your skin, and all you had been doing was lying there with your tresses damp and at serene peace in the faint movement of the water.
At sundown, as the Twilight awakened, Sarah specified that you three must travel together over to the Chateau before the party. She was strict that you taught her how to properly do eyeliner, as yours was near perfect in her opinion, but you were one to keep it under wraps that stencils were always a girl's best friend.
Kiara had chosen for her crimped ringlets to present into a half-up, half-down, braided up-do with her aglow cheeks smudged into a faint shell-pink blush, and her brows feathered out like a virgin quill.
Sarah had satisfactorily completed her look with a tinge of smudged liner and a white crochet top and matching shorts, she had always been appreciative that you learned how to knit.
Best saved for last, your complexion was dressed in a newfound glow and a dull maroon daubed across your lined lips. Your outfit leaning simple, a pair of jean shorts and a short sleeve verdant top.
Sarah had practically squealed in a shrill of happiness as to how perfect the day had flown, both you and Kiara agreeing in such.
Nearing the Chateau, you were undertaken in the waves of your daydreams, similar to a focused surfer in a tube ride. The pre-giddiness simmering gently in your abdomen like a pot that had been taken off the stove and had now come to forcibly settle.
Your friends had begun a less than meaningful conversation as your thoughts had strayed. People had always come to be envious, you thought peculiarly. Or rather envious of your position in people's lives.
You had a family, a family of friends that didn’t remain under one roof but was spread out across the Outer banks. They surfed together on sunny days and lay under hammocks at night discussing their futures, together.
Though, your foreseeable future was shared.
JJ had always been seen as a philanderer dressed in a socialite's skin. He could surf for hours on end without fail or even evident agitation, he had best friends that couldn’t even bear the thought of turning on him and he had a girlfriend that would run to the opposite ends of the earth and hold the sun and moon in her hands, just for him.
But the only dressing was his unhealed anguish. The pads of your thumbs had collected his tears, and your faint kisses had mended his wounds. The night you had first mumbled your love for the teenage boy under mere lethargy he had promised himself that under no circumstances were you to get hurt.
That being he would stray from alcoholic beverages when in your presence and would perpetually keep a prominent eye on you when out and about in the distilled water, just in case.
So, when Kie and Sarah were adamant on having the ‘best night ever!’ he had immediately retreated to your side.
“You don’t wanna play beer pong with John B?” Over the rim of your vermillion cup, you mumbled over to him who remained silent with an arm never feigning from your waist.
“Nah, not feeling it tonight. Plus, just three drinks from you and you’re absolutely wasted.” He began wildly laughing while Sarah and Pope had both joined your presence, their questions receiving muffled answers as to his boisterous laughter regarding the time you fell off the dock after just three shots.
“You’re such a child, JJ! We can’t all be pro-partiers!” Sarah chastised in a chortle, observing the shake of your boyfriend's head as he came to remember other fond memories of you and the Pogues.
As the moonlit night had resumed till dusk, as promised you had abided to the pretend dance floor with stranded keggers, wandering teenagers, abandoned flip-flops and Kiara on your arm in a fit of laughter. JJ had been correct, you had naturally drifted from conscious thoughts after your third drink, your frame messily spinning around Kiara with a poor beat to the music.
“You’re staring, man.”
JJ’s head hastily shifted to meet with Pope who merely shook his head as he stood next to him.
“Oh, dude!” JJ groaned, forcing his head back with the flail of his arms, already aware of what Pope was about to inquire about. “I gotta watch my girl! Make sure she doesn’t get hurt.”
Pope merely chucked at his best friend flailing around his hands that were pointing in your direction, though you were rather oblivious to the animated conversation, too distracted by Kiara’s obnoxious snorts.
“I didn’t say anything! You’re the one admitting all your secrets here!” Pope laughed alongside his best friend as JJ had merely followed with a dramatic groan.
Nearing midnight, it was rather a great difficulty to get you and the girl’s into the twinkie and to the Chateau where everyone would reside for the night, prior to the evening ahead John B had made a curt comment regarding the 'lightweights' he lived with.
“Babe! You need to get out of the car!” JJ shouted amid his poorly concealed laughter. His eyes were distended like teacups and his hands attempted to beckon you out, in which you slapped away as you continued to pout in the back of John B’s vehicle alone as everyone else had finally been gesticulated into the house.
“But the car will be lonely, JJ!” Your passionate whisper increased dramatically as you came millimetres away from your boyfriend's face, a trembling smile graced on his lips at your closeness. “And that is so, mother-fucking, rude! I cannot just leave the twinkie alone.” You huffed.
In almost milliseconds your pouting demeanour with crossed arms had alternated to a soft grin and wiggling fingers. “You’re cute.” You gently prodded at his quivering lips, an endearing smile tugging at the corners of your lips as his teeth sheen through his lips.
“C’mon, you smell!” He knew it was rude, but he devised it was the only possible way he could have you sloppily running into the house amid bumping anything in your way was by remarking something far-fetched and something you wouldn’t believe while sober.
He was in fact correct, producing a horrified gasp and a gust of wind where you had formerly been as you hurdled into the Chateau the best you could. When making way into the Chateau, himself, after locking up the van he had spotted Sarah and John B sound asleep in a singular hammock and Kie and Pope drooling grossly over the couches; everyone sound asleep, except for you who stood in the bathroom under the gleaming lights prodding at your warmed cheeks.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Inspecting. No questions.” That was all you answered as you swirled your fingers over your ample cheeks, any cosmetic product you had painted on earlier had almost completely melted off due to the glistening fire and the considerable amount of perspiration on your face from dancing.
“Babe, you gotta relax for a sec.”
“It’s fucking rude to tell a lady to relax, JJ. Use your manners!” Your head rapidly spun backwards, your jaw locked and your eyes narrowed; but JJ only proceeded to guffaw at your attempted bitter demeanour.
“C’mere.” His accessorized fingers gesture you over to him, in which you complied too. (Surprisingly.) “You’ve got makeup all over your face, I gotta help you take all that shit off. Hold on.” With one hand on your bare hip and another strainingly reaching towards the dusted countertop where a used package of makeup-remover wipes lay stow.
“But that’s so much fucking work! One night won’t kill me, J!” He merely shook his head at your whines, completely knowledgeable on how you’d bitterly regret that drunken decision and curtly chastise him. He grabbed hold of your swaying legs, afraid you might fall over and diligently placed you atop of the counter; he was, at that moment, very mindful of your stomach nearly about to explode like an active volcano of beer if he wasn't meticulous.
“Hey, hey, hey! Shhh.” He forced a singular finger to your pouty lips. Refraining from laughing once more, he began to egregiously attempt smearing the wipe across your face till your flesh was adorned in a clear coat of makeup remover and any traces of maquillage were free from your features.
Amid his bashful wipes, your eyes had practically zipped shut at the languid beverages prodding at the muscle between your skull. Your body had now sufficiently leaned against the blonde, his only prompt that you had still been conscious was the hmm of affection that bubbled from your throat after he placed a kiss to your nose.
Travelling you from one spot to another, his calloused palms had practically melded into the flesh of your thighs as he transported you. “You stay there.” He sternly ordered, waggling around his finger as your eyelids had barely cracked open. You sat lethargically on his bed in John B’s house while he collected a pair of clothes he could poorly change you in; so you wouldn’t have to rest in the uncomfortable material of denim.
He retreated back to you with a tattered pair of grey sweatpants where a few loose strings resided and an ivory t-shirt with some blurred designs on it.
“J, so much fucking effort.”
“Babe, I love you, but please shut up and let me take care of you.”
Your scowling brows arched theatrically at the chastise but ultimately let him slip the clothes on you without tremendous difficulty on your behalf. In such a languid state with a distorted visage and a stomach fuelling in dull agony as well as your head, you had finally managed to lay on your side beneath the sheets where JJ had gotten to abide next to you with his clothes shelved on the worn nightstand.
“Hey, J?” You maundered out with a stammer in your voice.
“Yeah, baby?” Was a whisper he acknowledged. His arm had completely circled the deflection of your abdomen, the other appendage beneath your neck in great efforts to stabilize you, and his chin perched on your shoulder.
You had almost been completely distracted by his budding-blonde hairs tickling at your neck and the gentle breaths synchronized on your shoulders, till he softly kissed the flush muscles in your cheek to remind you of your unanswered question.
“Thanks for taking care of me, I'm going to be hell tomorrow.” The message was almost inaudible due to your exhaustion, but he was able to hear you as clear as day. Every pull in your vocal cords and every palpitation of your beating heart was a new reminder consuming his brain in oxytocin endorphins, much better than anything he had ever smoked.
“Course, troublemaker; always.” He whispered back with an affectionate bliss built in the foundation of his words, “Love you.” In a haste, he muttered it out, unaware if you had scarcely heard the incoherent mumble due to your state.
In which, you did; barely. But the shy affections of the boy could always bring a doltish grin to your cheeks, “Love you, more, J.”
“Babe, I love you, but please shut up and let me take care of you.”
Dgygshyhajs I love this dialogue
This is so cute, omg! It's written amazingly; thank you for writing it!! I missed reading for JJ and honestly, I'm glad I started again with this piece 💓
What about Yelena coloring your hair? Please? Just if you want to 😊
pairing: yelena belova x reader
request: the prom (wlw) from a night at the theatre
a/n: i absolutely want to and i wasn’t sure of colours so i went for purple, hope that’s okay :D
“You have to stay still!”
“Yelena, you’re gonna tear my scalp off.”
“You, princess,” teased Yelena, tapping your nose with the tip of her dye-coated finger, “are very dramatic. Your scalp will stay intact.”
You glared jokingly at Yelena, but you couldn’t hold up the act for long as she counteracted your look with a frown of her own. She smiled widely as you giggled, lifting a hand from under your large teal towel to wipe away the purple dye on your nose.
Yelena was a little gentle this time, her fingertips massaging you as she applied the dye, making sure that she had every area covered. You were growing sleepy as she ran her fingers through your hair for accuracy, your eyes were drooping closed and Yelena noticed, chuckling before tossing her plastic gloves aside and cupping your cheek.
“You are adorable,” Yelena cooed, thumb stroking your skin as she smiled warmly. “Going to wrap your head in some foil now, gorgeous.”
You nodded, awakened fully by the cheeky kiss Yelena had left against your cheek. Yelena wrapped your hair in foil as promised, making silly faces in the mirror you were both facing in order to make you laugh. There was nothing more melodic and breathtaking than the sound of your laugh in Yelena’s totally unbiased, balanced opinion.
“Now I look like an alien,” you huffed, reaching a hand up to touch the foil as you followed Yelena into your shared bedroom. Yelena lay down on the bed, and you sat on the edge carefully, not wanting to risk getting dye on your light grey sheets.
“You’re the most beautiful alien I have ever seen,” said Yelena, gazing adoringly at your pout.
“That implies you’ve seen other aliens.”
“You don’t know what I do in my spare time.”
The two of you spent some time relaxing. It had been a long week of work for the both of you, and you’d be a fool not to spend your shred of free time with Yelena. The feeling of her thigh pressed against yours as you sat next to each other was something so simple, yet something you had longed for all week when she had been away on a mission and you were working from home. The house always felt so empty without Yelena’s presence.
“Are you okay, princess?” asked Yelena, placing her head on your shoulder and taking your hand in hers.
“I’m fine,” you responded, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ve just missed you, that’s all.”
“I’m here now,” replied Yelena, standing from the bed and pulling you up with her. “I won’t be going anywhere for a bit. Time to get this dye off, angel. C’mon.”
You followed her into the bathroom, leaning over the edge of the bathtub and letting Yelena wash out the dye. The feeling of her nails scraping lightly against your scalp and the rough palm of her hand keeping hair away from your face was something you wished you could feel forever, a feeling you wish could be etched into your skin and never forgotten. But, it was over before you knew it, and Yelena was dragging you back into your room to dry your hair, excited to see the end result of your little hair makeover.
Yelena worked silently, only humming occasionally as she dried your hair with a hairdryer, brushing through every now and then to make sure it didn’t get tangled. She was as delicate as she could possibly be, a rare thing for Yelena as she was used to doing things as quickly as possible. But, she took her time with you as she never wanted to hurt you. Even if it was just a rough tug to your hair, she didn’t want that to happen. She didn’t want you to fear her.
“You’re doing great, princess,” praised Yelena, drying the last few strands and then setting the hairdryer aside. She brushed her fingers through your hair, relishing in the softness of it and smiling at the way the purple shone under the light, no hint of your natural colour left behind. “It looks amazing on you. I didn’t think you could get any hotter. Come and look.”
You followed Yelena to the bathroom, letting out a small gasp as you looked at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t expecting it to look as good as it did, but the colour really was a perfect fit for you and Yelena had done a flawless job. Perhaps hairdressing wouldn’t be a bad path for her to take one day. The pair of you stood there for a few minutes, fiddling with your locks and trying to style them and fluff them and everything in between.
“We’ve all week to experiment, little violet,” whispered Yelena, lips brushing against your ear before leaving a sweet kiss against your earlobe. “Let’s rest, for now.”
prepare yourself because I'm about to shower you with requests
pairing: natasha romanoff x reader
request: ‘the prom’ (wlw) from a night at the theatre
a/n: first time writing for nat :o and yes pls shower me with requests i will love u eternally
You were sat comfortably in the warmth of your apartment, leaning against the window and relishing in the sound of rain pounding against it. The warmth of your woollen blanket was a stark contrast to the prickling cold of the rain against your girlfriend’s shoulders as she made the dreaded run from her car to the front doors of your apartment building.
“Sweetheart, I’m home,” called the sweet voice of Natasha as she entered your little home. “The weather isn’t my friend today.”
Despite the slight chuckle following her words, Natasha sounded stressed. You figured a day training with the Avengers would do that to a person. Nevertheless, you switched off your phone and dropped it onto the grey cushion next to you. You padded over to Nat, frowning as she hung up her jacket with a huff.
“Are you okay?” you asked, taking a few strides until you were almost chest to chest with the woman, your hand coming up to cup her rain-dampened cheek.
Natasha relaxed under your touch, the furrow of her brows fading and her tense posture dropping. She flashed a weak smile, one that she always managed to muster up around you. With a gentle shake of her head, Natasha reached a hand up to yours, taking it gently from her face and leaving a kiss against the back of it.
“It hasn’t been the best,” confirmed Nat, interlacing her fingers with yours. “But, I’m with you now, so it’s already getting better. Would you like to dance? The weather is perfect for it.”
You shrugged, scoffing as her statement about the weather was contradicted a crack of lightning illuminating your dim apartment. You went to walk away from Nat to turn on the radio, but she did not release your hand like you had expected, instead tugging you back so that you crashed into her chest.
“Not in here,” said Nat, brushing her lips against your as she spoke. “Out there.”
“Oh,” you hummed. You’d admit, you thought she was losing her mind for a second. Who would want to dance in that? But, it would be a new experience, and one you’d be happy to share with Natasha. “Alright, let me just get some shoes and a coat on.”
When the two of you were dressed as appropriately as you could to dance in torrential rain, you made your way to the elevator of your apartment complex. You bounced on yours heels excitedly as it rose, Natasha grinning adoringly at your childlike eagerness. When you made it to the roof, you were quick to tumble out.
“You didn’t tell me it would be this cold,” you yelled over the pouring rain, wincing as it tumbled down onto your cheeks.
“It’s rain, princess,” laughed Nat incredulously. “What were you expecting? Now, come on!”
You laughed gleefully as Natasha took your hands in hers, spinning and laughing as she felt all of her troubles melt away. Stress didn’t even cross her mind, but absolute happiness did. The feeling of your hands in hers and the rain encasing the two of you was all she needed to make her feel better.
“You’re beautiful,” commented Nat, now holding you close as the two of you rocked gently, dancing slowly after tiring yourself with spins and leaps. “I don’t tell you enough.”
“You make me feel beautiful,” you responded, cheeks growing warm at the compliment you received so often. The swarm of butterflies in your stomach was, and always had been, relentless around Nat. “That is more than enough, angel.”
And so, the two of you, madly in love, spent the next half an hour swaying gently in the rain. No words were said as none needed to be said. The coarse tips of her fingers brushing against the delicate skin of your cheeks and the soft yet solid grip you had on her hips held more love than a sentence ever could.
Again, I don't know if it's already been requested but just bare with me, please💓
Telling scary stories with Marauders
I love these dialogues!!!
"No more," James groaned, nuzzling his head into Lily's shoulder as everyone stared at you with wide eyes, Remus being the only one to manage a slightly unaffected stare.
"You scared, lads?" He mused with a smile as he nodded for you to continue, knowing that one more story would have the boys wide awake for the rest of the night.
"Of course not," Sirius defended, hand dragging through his hair as he pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders.
"So, I can tell another one?" you teased and Peter was the one to object, shaking his head vigorously as he took another bite from the chocolate frog in his hands, eyes drifting between everyone in the group as the bonfire burned in the center of your little circle.
"Thought so," Remus laughed as he bumped your shoulder, grabbing a bag of marshmallows from his stash and tossing it into James' lap. "Set us up, won't you, Prongs."
"Maybe we'll tell some funny stories instead," Lily offered as she scratched at the boys scalp, a choir of laughter filling the night air.
request: i have an idea, you know that tiktok prank where you prank jj by saying someone has sent you his nudes and but when you finally send it to him its of that rat taking a shower. idk if this makes sense but ill try to find the tiktok
warnings: profanities, mentions of food // SMAU
a/n: this is the start of my smau’s chapter!! and what’s a better way to start it than with jj maybank?
general taglist: @tatesimper @bluvclouds @i-love-scott-mccall @miraclesoflove
requested by anon where the reader and James hate each other and get stuck in detention together.
warnings; I don't know?? insults thrown but they're not too aggressive or anything. let me know if I've missed something.
word count; 1300+
- - -
Your contempt for James Potter had not remained a private affair by any means; it quickly became a public rivalry, each of you constantly trying to one up the other.
The scoreboard had been long abandoned, for the competition had been running too long for anyone to have kept count. Calling a truce, or being the ‘bigger person’, had never crossed either of your minds--you’d been at it so long, it would feel strange to stop, you weren’t sure what you would do with yourself without it.
As odd as it sounded, even to yourself, this rivalry was sometimes the only thing that gave you any sort of motivation, because you couldn’t let him win. If anything, you owed a lot of your success to James, as he did to you, though both of you would have rather planted a hundred new baby mandrakes without earmuffs than admit that ghastly truth.
Last week, both you and James were dealt a detention from Professor Slughorn for sabotaging each other’s potions, which, as Slughorn repeatedly shouted to you, could have seriously injured someone. You supposed a detention was fair, but in all your years at Hogwarts and antagonism, you’d never had a detention with only James. There was always someone else who’d been stupid enough to break the rules with you. But not this time.
-
“You’ll be fine, it’s only an hour,” your friend tried to reason with you.
“An hour that’ll probably feel like a year," you groaned, "And I don’t even know what’s planned for the detention. If it’s lines that could be bearable, we wouldn't have to talk to each other.”
“Stop being dramatic and go, or you’ll be late,” they scolded.
So you set off for the dungeons where Slughorn’s classroom was located, deep within the castle where the walls were damp and cold. When you reached the dungeons, James was already standing outside the door to the potions room, slumped against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. If it weren’t for the ridiculous, smug smirk that adorned his lips, he might have looked relatively handsome. He pushed himself from the wall, greeting you with his middle finger which you returned with an innocent smile as you noticed Slughorn had appeared behind him.
“Mr. Potter,” he announced with a tone of disappointment, an eyebrow cocked in disapproval.
James’ smile instantly dropped, along with the hand he’d extended so courteously towards you, and he turned slowly to meet the professor who had most definitely seen him flip off another student. But, unwilling to handle any more punishment, Slughorn simply shook his head reproachfully and invited the two of you inside. James sighed a breath of relief, but felt your presence close behind him, and walked in after the teacher. Stepping on the back of James’ shoe seemed the appropriate and mature thing to do at the time, and as hoped and expected, he lost his footing.
But unfortunately, he showed great restraint by withholding profanities and managing not to look back at you with a glare. It was slightly disappointing, but still entertaining to watch him trip. You scanned the room, realising a cauldron and ingredients had been set out at a desk near the front of the room. Only one cauldron. James looked just as confused and vaguely horrified, coming to the same conclusion you had done about what your professor’s plan was for your time in detention.
“You two are going to brew the potion you were supposed to last week...together. And if you fail, you will try again until you get it right. I can’t have students in my class behaving as you did, so you will learn to work together,” Slughorn explained, adjusting his cap.
“But sir-”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Potter, there will be no ‘buts’. Now get on with it, I have essays to grade.”
Both you and James remained still for a moment, neither wanting to talk to the other but unable to begin without communicating in some fashion. James rubbed the back of his neck, sighing heavily through marginally pouted lips. You rolled your eyes, informing him that you could follow the steps if he read them to you.
“Err, all right then,” he hesitated.
The two of you walked over to the desk where Slughorn had set out your equipment; James flicked through the textbook for the required page while you rearranged the ingredients in boredom. After nearly two minutes, James finally landed on the correct page and began reading out the instructions listed inside. It went shockingly well for nearly half an hour, with James reading to you (albeit like a three year old) and you doing whatever he told you to. Not much else was being said, likely down to the fact that both of you were eager to be out of each other’s sight as soon as you were able.
“No, no, you’re cutting it wrong,” James criticised.
“I’m cutting it exactly how you told me to,” you argued.
“No you’re not, you’re supposed to cut the ends off first.”
“You didn’t say that!”
“Yes I did!”
“You know, sometimes I wish I had a recording device on me at all hours, because the amount of times you say you’ve said something when you haven’t, or, or when you say something and then claim you didn’t, is astonishing. And I'd like nothing more than to prove you wrong every time” you grumbled, leaving the desk to look for a fresh batch.
“That’s what you wish for? On your birthday, you blow out the candles thinking of me and my pretty mouth?” he smirked.
“Oh, you’re smug. A little too smug for someone with a reading age of seven,” you barked back.
“Oi! At least I know how to follow instructions.”
“Aw, little boy playing right into society’s hands, would you like an underpaid nine to five job to go with that?”
“You’re insufferable,” he groaned.
“That’s a good one, did Remus teach you that?” you asked, finally returning to the desk to recut whatever was supposed to go into the potion--you’d hardly paid attention to the names.
James clenched his jaw and bit back an insult. “Let me cut them,” he said, taking the knife from you and cutting the ends off, like he’d forgotten to tell you before, “We can swap for a bit,” he gestured towards the textbook.
You smirked, knowing you’d won, but obliged anyway and took the book into your hands. After a minute, James started laughing, with no obvious explanation as to why. The look on your face only made him laugh harder, to the point where he had to set the knife down and take a minute to compose himself.
“What’s going on?” you asked, finding it hard not to laugh yourself, previously having been unaware of how contagious his laugh was.
“Nothing, just- you’re actually pretty funny,” James admitted, something he never thought he’d catch himself doing, but he couldn’t deny he was telling the truth.
“What do you mean?”
“Before, that was all pretty funny,” he laughed again.
“Oh,” you laughed softly, thinking back.
You supposed it was, though you hadn’t really realised it at the time. It was strange to think that you would have acknowledged the hilarity of the situation had he been a friend with whom you were verbally sparring. It would have been nothing short of two friends bouncing off each other. You wondered if it could be like that, instead of how it was.
James took the opportunity to glance at you while you were thinking, admiring your quick wit and playful, though often challenging, demeanor. He thought of what it would be like to call you a friend, and in time, maybe even more--it was a thought he rarely allowed him to entertain before, only during the darkest nights when he was completely alone, but now he couldn’t help it.
“So, fancy getting a butterbeer this weekend?” James asked, casually.
“Okay,” you said before you could change your mind.
“Okay,” he smiled, “Just try not to be too much of an arse while we’re out in public, wouldn’t want you embarrassing me,” he winked.
“But it’s my specialty,” you winked back.
- - -
fill out this form or send an ask to be added to a tag list <3
I'm running out fo ideas so this is probably the last request today <3
Going to the homecoming dance with Peter Parker?
I love these dialogues!!
AAAAA I love.
Going to homecoming with Peter - (word count; ) ;
"There's gonna be a lot of people in there," Peter said, looking a little nervous in his suit, that certainly made him look very handsome.
"They don't matter," you reassured, taking his hand and giving it a light squeeze.
"Yeah," he nodded, leading you in through the doors and into the decorated gym which was filled with loud music and couples scattered across the dance floor.
"Even better, they won't even notice us," you said close to Peter's ear, dragging him onto the dance floor in the midst of everyone else, who, as you had said, did not notice you at all.
"This is fun," Peter laughed as the song was coming to an end, only to be replaced with one far slower than the one before.
"Y/N, Peter, you made it!" Ned beamed, approaching the two of you.
"Yeah, and you look great," you smiled, looking as people began to get closer to their partners and sway gently to the music; you weren't sure whether you wanted Ned to leave or stay.
"Thanks, I thought so too," he grinned, "Um, anyway, I gotta go," Ned chuckled, clearly having received some sort of hint from Peter.
"Uh, do you wanna dance?" Peter asked quietly, rubbing the back of his neck, "You don't have to," he added quickly, shaking his hands about.
"Yeah, I wanna dance," you accepted his offer, nodding your head and stepping closer to him.
"Oh good," he breathed shakily, placing his hands on your waist slightly awkwardly, but melting into it after a moment. "Also," he leaned in close to the side of your face, "I can't dance."
You laughed genuinely, resting your head on his shoulder, "Me neither," you confessed, both swaying gently to the song that played in the background, ignoring everyone else in the room.
summary: headcanons on what it would be like dating rafe.
warnings: nudity (non-sexual), mentions of food
word count: 1153
rafe’s love languages are acts of service, because he firmly believes that actions speak louder than words, and he wanted to show you how much he loves you. and also quality time, whether it be going out on a party together or just spending the day in, all that matters to him is that you’re together.
rafe would bring you on tons of dates, mostly out on the mainland where none of what you can do is limited like back at home.
he would take you to games; hockey & basketball, mostly. and he would always wish that the kiss cam would point at the both of you just so that he could kiss you on the big screen.
he would also set up a picnic for you somewhere, and he’ll let you lay your head on his lap as you talked about everything and nothing, his hand running through your hair.
the drive-in movies back at obx was a tradition for the both of you, you would never miss a movie, no matter how cheesy or corny it is. he’d set up the back of his truck with blankets, pillows, and snacks.
OHH!! RAFE ALSO LIKES TO COME WITH YOU WHEN YOU GO SHOPPING. mostly because he can hype you up whenever you go try on some outfits.
you’ll drag him to the food court for a break, and he’ll never admit it, but he actually likes the food there no matter how much he says he hates it.
so you’ll have to share your food with him as you continue to walk around the mall.
your hand is intertwined with rafe’s as you swung your arm around.
he was carrying the shopping bags, as you continued to look around. he only let you carry the small bag of trashy jewelry you bought for fun.
you could feel the burning gaze he had on your slushie as your lips graced an amused smirk. you wordlessly raised the cup to him, and watched as he hesitated before wrapping his lips around the straw.
you chuckled as he let out a content sigh, alternating sips every now and then.
rafe likes taking pictures of you, sometimes mostly stolen since it captures your raw emotion. he has an album in his phone of only you, and he looks through them every time he needs a pick me up.
his lockscreen is the photo of the both of you, it was taken on one of the hockey game dates he took you at. his phone was pointed on the jumbotron as the both of you shared a passionate kiss for the kiss cam. (I JUST THOUGHT OF THIS RN AND I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE— Y/N YOU WHORE!!)
his homescreen is a photo of you sleeping, your face was smushed against your pillow, the sunlight dancing across your skin.
he also has a risqué photo of you in his wallet, but that’s a story for another time ;)
when you found out that rafe always used to take wheezie out for bonding, you forced him to do it again. because we all know that his sister missed it when he gave her some attention.
he’d take her to her favorite diner and bet that she couldn’t finish a big stack of pancakes. wheezie, who wanted to prove her brother wrong, said otherwise so she ordered the pancakes and started eating.
two out of seven pancakes in, wheezie surrendered and let her brother bask in the glory.
rafe helped her eat the pancakes though, they shared her plate and ordered two smoothies as they caught up on each other’s lives, exchanging funny stories from their childhood.
when they arrived back at home, rafe thanked you for forcing him as he laid in bed next to you. he admitted that they had a lot of fun, and even wheezie said she misses hanging out with him.
SPEAKING OF SISTERS. rafe kept the drawing sarah drew for him when they were younger. it was a drawing of her and rafe with ‘THE BEST BROTHER EVER’ sloppily written by seven year old sarah. it’s framed and he has it displayed on top of his bedside drawer.
rafe, surprisingly and not surprisingly, has tons of hair products. from the shampoo, conditioner, oil care, serums, you name it.
the first time you and rafe were together in the tub. you were in between his legs as he lathered your hair with your lavender shampoo, the warm water basking in your nude bodies.
when it was his turn, he sheepishly smiled at you. “uh, i actually have some… products that i use.”
you didn’t know why he was so shy until you opened the small cabinet by his tub. “oh-“
“yeah…” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.
speaking of products, rafe also loved it when you included him in your skincare routine. as much as he loves spoiling you, you know that he also loves getting spoiled.
rafe puts a hand on your boob when he sleeps because it’s warm and soft. he calls it his personal heating pads.
sue me, but rafe loves reading books. especially those cheesy romantic novels. but don’t let this idea fool you, he also has eroticas HSHSHAHAHA
anyway- sometimes you’ll lay in bed before going to sleep, and he’ll let you lay your head over his chest as he reads to you.
rafe likes being close to you, skin-to-skin, sometimes. it feels so intimate for him, and he loves every second of it.
rafe would be closed off the first few months you’re dating, but once he opens up to you about his problems, he’ll never stop. but you’ll be there for him every second of the day.
oh!! rafe is also a good cook, i think. he came across his mom’s recipe book hidden in the attic. and he’ll try to make something in the kitchen with tiny help from their personal chefs.
and once he finishes it, it gives him a sense of comfort because he gets a few glimpses of his mom cooking whenever he’s in the kitchen.
the only person rafe will ever cook for is you, and sometimes wheezie.
STOP RAFE AND WHEEZIE WERE CLOSE OKAY AND I CAN’T HELP BUT GET SOFT.
sometimes whenever he has a hard time sleeping, rafe would sneak in the kitchen and randomly cook something up.
sarah would oftenly wake up and watch his brother jog from counter to counter. he would sometimes silently offer her some food and eat together quietly.
breakfast in bed!! or sometimes he’ll bring you out on his room’s balcony and watch the sunrise together as you eat. you’ll end up falling asleep sometimes and rafe will stay there with you.
being with rafe is a rollercoaster ride but your love for him would never change.
you love him so much, and he loves you just the same. maybe even more.
general taglist: @tatesimper @bluvclouds @i-love-scott-mccall @miraclesoflove
with rafe cameron because you won’t write my jj angst 😤
𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 || 𝐫.𝐜.
pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader
word count: 0.6k
prompt(s): “You’re hot when you’re angry”
warning(s): explicit language, mentions of being beaten up
a/n: shut up bae I will write the angst </3 prompts in bold!!
It was late; way past midnight and you were laying in bed, reading a book while soft, slow music poured from the speakers on your shelf. It was a peaceful evening, so you ravished in the serenity of the moment. This calmness didn’t last very long, though, for only a few seconds later, you heard an annoyingly loud knock at the window over your bed.
Furrowing your brows, you threw your book to the side, drawing the curtains. You opened the window, only to be met with the burning, yet icy, stare of your boyfriend, whose face was covered in bruises and blood.
“Rafe, what the fuck?” You whisper-shouted in his direction.
“Hey, baby. Care to help me out a little?” His voice was a little hoarse, and while you suspected he’d just gotten into a big fight, a smirk settled over his lips nonetheless. You sent him a glare, so he added: “Please?”
You sighed frustratedly, moving so he could climb inside, eyes scanning his bruised features. Now you were certain someone had beaten him up. His lip was swollen, blood streamed from his nose and he had a big black mark on his jaw.
“Take a picture, It’ll last longer.”
“Shut up and sit down,” You grumbled. “I need to disinfect your wounds. Meanwhile, why don’t you tell me what the fuck happened?”
Listening to him rant about how Pogues were the reason for all of his problems and how they said he was a ‘pussy’, you found all the necessary things to clean him up. You came back to the room, pouring some rubbing alcohol on a cloth and pressing it against his cheek. He flinched, hissing, but you ignored it.
“You can’t go around beating up people that insult you, Rafe. What if they end up hurting you? I don’t want to see you in a hospital bed.”
He fell silent, and for a minute, you thought he felt ashamed and a root of regret started growing in your heart. Maybe you’d gone too harsh on him? Then, slowly, a smirk crept onto his features and he reached for the hand in which you were holding the cloth, bringing it to his lips and gently kissing your knuckles.
“You’re hot when you’re angry, y’know.” He mumbled and you sighed, seemingly annoyed, yet you felt butterflies swarming in your stomach, a sweltering fondness materializing in the depths of your heart. It might’ve been foolish of you to forgive him on the spot like that, but to your defense, it was really difficult to stay mad at Rafe for long.
“Only when I’m angry?” You asked with a pout, blinking at him innocently.
“No, not only when you’re angry. You’re always hot.”
“Right now, too?”
“Most certainly.” And with that, he brought his hands to your hips, pulling you closer and making you sit in his lap. “You always look beautiful, pretty girl.”
With a smile, you bent down to press a kiss to his lips, intending for it to be short and sweet. Yet Rfae had better plans, his hand moving to the small of your back and pulling your bodies closer together. You sighed dreamily as his tongue grazed your lower lip, tugging at his hair gently. The kiss was slowly turning into a full on makeout session; Rafe’s fingers slipped under your shirt and you moaned, cupping his face in your hands.
“Ow,” He groaned at the contact, causing you to pull away, worried. “Shit, I guess you were right. If getting in fights means I can't even kiss you properly, maybe I should stop.”
You giggled, fingers brushing over his lips softly and you kissed him again. Fireworks went off, and you were pretty sure you'd never ever get tired of that feeling.
