James Potter Fic - Tumblr Posts

I want some drama and angst :( can you write a james x reader fic? They broke up and couple months later she find out shes pregnant? She went to tell james but then he told her he’s dating lily and thats why she didn’t tell him cause during their relationship she was always feeling insecure like she can never be lily and always felt like shes the second choice. Someone that he settles for? Then she move away?

James find out couple weeks later after she moves away that shes pregnant bcs of the potter tapestry. So he went to find her (i want him to work and grovel a bit lol)

Of course I can, lovely!! Thank u so much fir the request <3

Sorry that it isn’t the best, I’m really tired 🫶

Feel free to send in requests for me to get to though!!! Love you all

You’re pregnant? ~J.F.P

{In which you and James have broken up, and you haven’t told him you’re pregnant.}

It had been weeks since you and James had broken up, and it had left you pretty torn up. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that you were still in love with him. You were just as smitten as you were in the beginning, and he had, presumably, completely moved on. You hadn’t heard from him once since the breakup, and it had really ruined you.

With a little help from your friends, you eventually got back on your feet. You read, listened to music, watched movies. You were yourself again. However, your heart was still tender, and James still unknowingly held ownership over it. Things went okay, as of late. Thing we’re looking up. Until you started throwing up in the early morning, and were overcome with dizzying fatigue. When you missed your period, again, you started to worry. You decided to overcome the embarrassment of buying a test and get one from the corner shop.

That was probably the worst night of your life. Impatiently, you stared unblinkingly at the pregnancy test that lay on the table before you. When the unholy little pink cross faded into view, your heart dropped. You hadn’t had sex with anyone, not since James. Which only meant one thing. Suddenly, you couldn’t breathe. Falling forward onto the table, You crept a hand up to your chest, grasping at it as choked sobs started to tear through your throat. Everything was numb, but so excruciating at the same time. Your arms wrapped around your stomach loosely, shakily. The scar of James’s old love for you engraved in your body. He could love you and decide to take it back whenever he saw fit, pretend you two never happened, but you now had the solid evidence of your love in your womb. And you had no doubt the child would look unfairly like its father. And its father had to know he was just that. A father.

The next day, face red and blotchy from crying nearly all night, you dressed in the nicest clothes you could find without being too formal, and made for your ex-lover’s house. The address you’d memorised. Cruel nostalgia threatened to kill you as you took in the painfully familiar path to the painfully familiar door. When you knocked, the door opened to reveal an agonisingly familiar man. James. His face twitched in confusion. You knew his little tics and giveaways like the back of your hand: you had all of his features and quirks tattooed into your heart. His smooth voice saying your name ripped you out of your thoughts. “What are you doing here?” He asked you, and you smiled weakly. You looked at your feet. “James, I’m sorry, I’m-“ “Jamie? Who is it?” Another voice called. A honey-sweet, beautiful voice. Lily.

Freckled arms wrapped around James’s waist. Silky red hair cascaded down his shoulder when Lily placed her head on his shoulder. His face shifted in awkward shock, as he went rigid under her touch. “Lily, Uhm.. it’s…” he mumbled, nodding his head towards you. It felt like your heart had been ruthlessly ripped from your already sore chest. You were expressionless, unable to breathe and unable to deal with the agonising aching pain that throbbed unbearably inside of you. Oh, god. You felt like you were going to throw up. You nod stiffly, eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Lily.” Lily looks almost guilty, but doesn’t remove her soft arms from around James’s middle. She addressed you back, gentler than you did.

“What did you wanna say?” James asked quietly, face flushed slightly. “No. Nothing.” You murmur, turning on your heel. You needed to go home. You felt like you were about to black out. Is this what it felt like to have your heart shatter like glass in your chest, shredding up everything else? You wanted it to stop. You heard him shout your name after you, but the world around you felt muffled, and far away. It should be you with your arms around his waist, not the girl he told you not to worry about when you were dating. It should be you fixing his glasses, playing with his hair, raising his child with him. You’d always been insecure about Lily. She was beautiful. Flaming red hair, mossy green eyes, soft curves and plump lips, a kind aura and glowing smile. You knew you couldn’t compete with her. In your eyes, James would always love Lily, and you were a second choice. He couldn’t have Lily, so he settled for you. Tears had begun to drip down your cheeks, but the feeling was all too regular now, and you felt too empty to care.

James had sat on the sofa with Lily after he’d closed the door. He rested his head in his hands, visibly raging. “What the fuck was that?” He almost spat, glaring at her through his eyebrows. He’d never display this anger to you. “Sorry, James, but you were the one who broke up with her. And she deserves-“ “stop it!” James interrupted, his voice trembling. “I know! I fucking know she deserves better! But…” His lip twitched, a sign he was furious. “We’re over, mate, you know that. And you’re my friend, so I don’t know why you’d do this to me. You fucking know I love her. You know, Lily.” He says, his steady tone cracking at the end as he buries his head in his hands. He suppresses tears of his own. Lily moves over to him, trying to take him into a hug, which he accepts, always in need of physical touch while upset.

“Lily, I don’t know what to do.” She sighs, rubbing his back softly. “I won’t take back that she deserves better. Because she does. You broke up with her, James. But, I know you. And I know love when I see it.” Lily says, petting his hair. James was staring intently at the wall, frozen in place, not even sobbing anymore. “And if you really, really love her, you need to go to her, James, because-“ “Lily.”

Her eyebrows furrow, looking at James who’s still staring at the wall with wide, watery eyes. He looks fucking scarred, like a soldier in war. He looks devastated. Lily follows his gaze, and her eyes fall onto the potter tapestry which hangs pride of place above the fireplace. Her eyebrows twitch downwards as she leans forwards.

Between your full name in gorgeous italics and James’s in the same font, was another name. The name you’d planned to embellish your child with. Lily froze right beside James. She turned to him. Slowly.

“You need to go to her. Right fucking now, James.”

He turns to her, and slowly nods, wide eyes reminiscent of a terrified puppy.

You were curled up in your bed. You’d run out of tears a while ago, and so you lay there in silence. Not moving. Not sleeping. Not doing anything. You were numb and empty and so tired. You couldn’t find it in you to cry anymore. When there was a frantic rapping at your door, you couldn’t even drag yourself up to get it. Did it really matter? You felt like you were chained to the bed. You’d just rot there forever, you decided. until you heard a desperate voice screaming your name from outside. Immediately, you recognised it.

James.

Hesitantly, you crept down the stairs and clicked open the door. At the sight of how ruined you looked, James let out a pathetic whimper: his glasses were askew and his hair was messy, his face tear stained. He was beautiful even now. “What do you want, James?” You spoke blankly, not a single suggestion of emotion creasing your face. “I know you’re pregnant.” He admitted. Just when you were about to ask him ‘how?’ He dropped to his knees before you.

He was so pretty like this. James’s eyes were big and teary and betrayed what little sleep he’d been getting. His soft pink lip was wobbling like a baby’s, his glasses were seconds from falling from his nose, and his hands were clasped together as he knelt, looking up at you desperately.

“I- I’m in love with you. I need you, I fucking need you.”

He whimpered, shuffling closer to you and pressing his forehead to your legs. “Please take.. take me back.. I want to raise my baby with you.. you’re my only love, you always.. always have been…” he pleaded, his heart wrenching and his voice cracking like a teenage boy. He sounded downright pathetic.

You knelt beside him. “This time, Jamie.” You whispered, and he gasped in relief, collapsing into your arms. You let a weak smile embrace your features as you consoled him. “I love you too.” You confessed. “Only you. Only ever you.” He clung to you tighter. “I’m never leaving you again. I pinkie promise. My girl. Mine.” He promised, linking his pinkie with yours in a heart-wrenching act of childlike innocence. You were confident it would work this time. Now that you both knew how life felt without each other.

“Okay. Pinkie promise.” You replied.

pretty nice | j.p.

tw: crying, fluff

james potter x reader

James' keys rattled softly in the doorway as he stepped into the house, his eyes already darting around the living room looking for you. It was your day off, and he had bought back your favorite noodles just because. Dropping his bag on the couch, he clutched the box of food in his hand and climbed up the stairs excitedly, a wide grin on his face. Lethargy seeped into his bones, but his heart swelled with excitement at the thought of being wrapped in your loving embrace.

James rushed toward your room, opening his mouth to call out your name, but the words died in his throat when he caught sight of you. You sat on your bad, knees up to your chest and arms wrapped around yourself, body wracking with sobs. He felt his heart sink when he noticed how you were trembling, how the tears dribbled down your chin.

He pushed the door slightly so as to not scare you but you flinched anyway, glancing up once to look at him before a louder sob escaped you and you glanced back down embarrassedly. He makes a wrangled sort of noise in his throat and rushes towards you, dropping the box of noodles onto the bed without a care. He really did try to go slow, but in his defence, he couldn't help giving you a hug when you looked up at him with that pretty tear-stained face.

James wraps you up into his arms and you gratefully reciprocate, burying your head in his chest and inhaling the scent of his deodorant. "Dove," he coos, rubbing circles onto your back and pressing small kisses to the top of your head. "What happened?"

"Sorry," you croak out between sobs, "I don't know why I'm crying. I just- I heard a sad song and it all came out." His eyebrows scrunch up anxiously and he sighs. "That's okay, lovie. You're okay. You can let it out," he whispers, half relieved and half worried at your explanation. That sets on a whole new wave of tears, and James makes a pitiful noise before he starts to kiss your hair and whispers sweet nothings into your ear. He squeezes you protectively in his embrace, and he smells like home. He is home.

Soon, your tears slow and you pull away slightly to wipe at your eyes. Sniffling, you look up to find him smiling softly at you, and you do your best to smile back. It mustn't have been a very convincing smile, because he frowns before he dips down to kiss the tear trails on your cheeks. You blush slightly, veering your face away. "Sorry about breaking down like that," you mumble.

"Nonsense, dove. Nothing to be sorry for. Do you feel better now?" James asks gently, rubbing his hands up and down your sides as he presses a quick kiss to your nose. You giggle as you feel the ticklish sensation, and that earns a real grin from him and he kisses your nose again. "Loads better," you smile, squeezing his waist tightly and nestling your head in the crook of his neck.

"I got you your favorite spicy noodles by the way," he says, gently swaying you in his embrace. "Really?" you mumble, sounding dangerously close to tears again as your heart swells with gratitude. "Thank you. I don't deserve you," you mumble, more to yourself than to him.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head again, before pulling away slightly to press one to your lips. A smile starts to curve your lips and you peck him again, adoration bubbling up within you. James starts to grin cheekily and nuzzles his nose into yours. "Don't say that again, lovie. You're wrong. You deserve all the nice things in the world, and I think I'm pretty nice, don't you?"

Hello. I don’t really know how to do this properly

Can you make something where the reader is like two/three years younger then the marauders and like grew up next to James so he’s like her older brother type thing? Completely fine if not but this has been stuck in my head

(zero romance pls if you do pls)

thank you so much for the request!! ♡ i tried to play around with the plot a little :)

always | j.p.

tw: fluff

james potter x reader (platonic)

Your hands instinctively come up to shield your face as confetti rains down in the Great Hall for the third time that evening.

A frown settles on your face as you slowly lower your arms, feeling the split second when your hand comes into contact with a drink on the refreshments table and knocks it to the ground. A frustrated groan escapes your lips.

You flick the remnants of the drink off your hand and sigh, moving away from the table to go lean on another wall. You shuffle your way through the various couples giggling and dancing and snogging, feeling your resentment grow by the second. Once you’ve safely reached the other side of the mob in the middle of the hall, your eyes rake over the place.

As usual, Hogwarts was shimmering with splendour for the annual ball. Fairy lights adorned the ceilings, and decorated tables were laden with every type of food you could think of. The long tables in the centre had been cleared to allow for dancing, while the Weird Sisters played popular tunes at the front of the hall.

You tried not to let it get to you, but as you awkwardly shuffle around to make way for couples trying to get past you, a dull ache makes its way into your heart.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had very sweetly asked you to the school dance a couple of days ago and you had agreed. The whole evening had been spent in preparation for tonight, doing makeup with the girls and putting on your lovely dress adorned with golden butterflies. But Kingsley fell terribly ill an hour before the dance, and couldn’t muster the strength to even get out of bed.

It was unfortunate, something you were so looking forward to going wrong like this. Especially since you really really liked Kingsley.

You sigh, loneliness and embarrassment starting to get the better of you as you resign yourself to staying as an onlooker. Couples fade in and out of your vision, twirling and prancing around. A huff of resentment escapes you as you try not to glare too hard at those having fun.

Just when you stand up straight, deciding that there was no point staying, you feel a hand on your shoulder and startle. Turning around, you come face-to-face with a grinning James Potter.

“Hey Pickle. You doing good?” he asks, his smile widening as he sees the frown on your face.

That was what James had called you since you first met on the Hogwarts express years ago, a timid first-year crashing straight into the most popular third-year in the school. You bumped into him while holding a jar of pickles (god knows why), and ended up hurling them all over him. He laughed it off while you apologised incessantly and cleaned him up. He thought you were adorable.

That day, James pestered you about yourself till you snapped, and the two of you were inseparable ever since.

“No, Potty. I’m not doing good. Kingsley’s sick,” you mutter, trying to veil the hurt in your voice with anger. He lets out a sympathetic coo and softens, his hand moving down to take yours.

You sigh, your anger dissipating to leave disappointment. “I’m gonna leave,” you murmur, turning around to get to the door. But his grip on your hand remains firm. You turn back around, brows furrowed in confusion.

He's smiling at you, tugging on your hand with that mischievous James Potter twinkle in his eyes. “Come on, Pickle.”

“What?”

“Come on. One dance?”

“Jame-“

“Pickle! You’re no fun. Pleaaaaase?”

You groan, mocking reluctance as you let yourself be led by him as he pulls you to the dance floor. “I can’t dance.”

“You don’t have to, I can do it well enough for the both of us,” James grins. He wraps his arm around your waist, takes your hand in his other one.

He pokes at your hand, gesturing for you to put it on his shoulder. You sigh and do as you’re told. He gives you a small smile and you soften, unable to help smiling back in return.

As the two of you position yourself, the loud manic pop music previously playing comes to an end. A gasp escapes you, your eyes lighting up as you hear the first notes of ‘O Children’ start to play. A childhood favourite, your mum’s go-to song to sing.

James chuckles, slowly starting to sway you along to the beat.

‘Lift up your voice, lift up your voice…’

You move along with him, closing your eyes and feeling the rhythm.

‘Children!...’

James’ footing is perfect, yours is haphazard. His movements are elegant, yours rusty. His dancing on beat, yours attempting to be. But the smile that graces both of your faces is the same.

‘Rejoice, rejoice…’

A giggle escapes you as he twirls you around, both of you bursting out into laughter as you trip on his shoe and your face lands smack on his chest. None of you pull away.

You stay like that for a while, your face buried in your shoulder as he holds you close. The two of you move from side to side in time with the music. You melt into his touch, feeling all your disappointment disappear as you tenderly dance to the soft tune.

“Thanks, James,” you murmur gratefully. He smiles down at you.

“Hey, none of that. You’re my Pickle - of course I had to pester you to dance, I always will,” he chuckles, ruffling your hair. You grin into his shoulder, playfully punching him in the stomach.

“And this song better be playing at your wedding. I need to show everyone, especially your future husband, just how much you suck at dancing.”

“James!”

He laughs, wincing as you pull away to smack him on the shoulder. He pushes you back, but catches you before you tumble to the floor. The two of you are clutching your stomachs and each other’s hands.

You and James dissolve into heaps of laughter and joy, just like you always do.

Hello. I don’t really know how to do this properly

Can you make something where the reader is like two/three years younger then the marauders and like grew up next to James so he’s like her older brother type thing? Completely fine if not but this has been stuck in my head

(zero romance pls if you do pls)

thank you so much for the request!! ♡ i tried to play around with the plot a little :)

always | j.p.

tw: fluff

james potter x reader (platonic)

Your hands instinctively come up to shield your face as confetti rains down in the Great Hall for the third time that evening.

A frown settles on your face as you slowly lower your arms, feeling the split second when your hand comes into contact with a drink on the refreshments table and knocks it to the ground. A frustrated groan escapes your lips.

You flick the remnants of the drink off your hand and sigh, moving away from the table to go lean on another wall. You shuffle your way through the various couples giggling and dancing and snogging, feeling your resentment grow by the second. Once you’ve safely reached the other side of the mob in the middle of the hall, your eyes rake over the place.

As usual, Hogwarts was shimmering with splendour for the annual ball. Fairy lights adorned the ceilings, and decorated tables were laden with every type of food you could think of. The long tables in the centre had been cleared to allow for dancing, while the Weird Sisters played popular tunes at the front of the hall.

You tried not to let it get to you, but as you awkwardly shuffle around to make way for couples trying to get past you, a dull ache makes its way into your heart.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had very sweetly asked you to the school dance a couple of days ago and you had agreed. The whole evening had been spent in preparation for tonight, doing makeup with the girls and putting on your lovely dress adorned with golden butterflies. But Kingsley fell terribly ill an hour before the dance, and couldn’t muster the strength to even get out of bed.

It was unfortunate, something you were so looking forward to going wrong like this. Especially since you really really liked Kingsley.

You sigh, loneliness and embarrassment starting to get the better of you as you resign yourself to staying as an onlooker. Couples fade in and out of your vision, twirling and prancing around. A huff of resentment escapes you as you try not to glare too hard at those having fun.

Just when you stand up straight, deciding that there was no point staying, you feel a hand on your shoulder and startle. Turning around, you come face-to-face with a grinning James Potter.

“Hey Pickle. You doing good?” he asks, his smile widening as he sees the frown on your face.

That was what James had called you since you first met on the Hogwarts express years ago, a timid first-year crashing straight into the most popular third-year in the school. You bumped into him while holding a jar of pickles (god knows why), and ended up hurling them all over him. He laughed it off while you apologised incessantly and cleaned him up. He thought you were adorable.

That day, James pestered you about yourself till you snapped, and the two of you were inseparable ever since.

“No, Potty. I’m not doing good. Kingsley’s sick,” you mutter, trying to veil the hurt in your voice with anger. He lets out a sympathetic coo and softens, his hand moving down to take yours.

You sigh, your anger dissipating to leave disappointment. “I’m gonna leave,” you murmur, turning around to get to the door. But his grip on your hand remains firm. You turn back around, brows furrowed in confusion.

He's smiling at you, tugging on your hand with that mischievous James Potter twinkle in his eyes. “Come on, Pickle.”

“What?”

“Come on. One dance?”

“Jame-“

“Pickle! You’re no fun. Pleaaaaase?”

You groan, mocking reluctance as you let yourself be led by him as he pulls you to the dance floor. “I can’t dance.”

“You don’t have to, I can do it well enough for the both of us,” James grins. He wraps his arm around your waist, takes your hand in his other one.

He pokes at your hand, gesturing for you to put it on his shoulder. You sigh and do as you’re told. He gives you a small smile and you soften, unable to help smiling back in return.

As the two of you position yourself, the loud manic pop music previously playing comes to an end. A gasp escapes you, your eyes lighting up as you hear the first notes of ‘O Children’ start to play. A childhood favourite, your mum’s go-to song to sing.

James chuckles, slowly starting to sway you along to the beat.

‘Lift up your voice, lift up your voice…’

You move along with him, closing your eyes and feeling the rhythm.

‘Children!...’

James’ footing is perfect, yours is haphazard. His movements are elegant, yours rusty. His dancing on beat, yours attempting to be. But the smile that graces both of your faces is the same.

‘Rejoice, rejoice…’

A giggle escapes you as he twirls you around, both of you bursting out into laughter as you trip on his shoe and your face lands smack on his chest. None of you pull away.

You stay like that for a while, your face buried in your shoulder as he holds you close. The two of you move from side to side in time with the music. You melt into his touch, feeling all your disappointment disappear as you tenderly dance to the soft tune.

“Thanks, James,” you murmur gratefully. He smiles down at you.

“Hey, none of that. You’re my Pickle - of course I had to pester you to dance, I always will,” he chuckles, ruffling your hair. You grin into his shoulder, playfully punching him in the stomach.

“And this song better be playing at your wedding. I need to show everyone, especially your future husband, just how much you suck at dancing.”

“James!”

He laughs, wincing as you pull away to smack him on the shoulder. He pushes you back, but catches you before you tumble to the floor. The two of you are clutching your stomachs and each other’s hands.

You and James dissolve into heaps of laughter and joy, just like you always do.

james potter masterlist — 𖤓

❤︎ — fluff | ☁︎ — angst | ✿ — san’s favs

pretty nice — james finds you crying ❤︎

always — you're lonely at the annual dance, and james wants to dance with you ❤︎ ✿

beautiful — james likes lily, right? ❤︎ ✿

in another life — james wanted kids, you didn’t. you see him and lily with harry years later ☁︎ ✿

kiss and make-up — james helps you do your make-up ❤︎

heyyyy do you think you could write a James blurb where reader hangs with Severus and Lily (she's a Snape but it's not really common knowledge as she's a few years younger) and everyone thinks James likes to come around for Lily but it's actually for the reader? I love your work btw!!!

yes, of course!! and thank you ♡

beautiful | j.p.

tw: fluff

snape!reader, james potter x reader

A frustrated sigh escapes Severus’ lips as you flick a petal at him for what seems like the umpteenth time that evening. You can feel the quivers in Lily’s body from where you’re laying on her lap as she laughs.

O.W.L.S. had just ended for your brother and best friend, so you dragged them down to your usual spot beneath the silver-leafed tree for a picnic. Lily was concentratedly twining vines together, crafting a daisy crown.

The light breeze caused her auburn hair to cover her face as she worked, the sun hitting her face in all the right places. She looked like some sort of heavenly wood nymph, you thought as you stared up at her. She was really really pretty.

Meanwhile, Severus was engrossed in some old, weathered-down potions book - furiously scribbling down notes for god-knows-what. Your legs were propped up on his lap as you threw the petals which occasionally fell from Lily’s flower crown at him. His expression was growing more cross by the second.

Your brother starts to grumble at you under his breath as a petal drifts straight into his nostril. A giggle bubbles out of you as he sneezes and the petal shoots out his nose, not missing the huff of annoyance he let out.

“If mother hadn’t instructed me to take care of you,” he mutters, a hint of irritation in his tone as he rubs his nose, “I would’ve tossed you into the black lake already.”

Lily grins, flicking your forehead as you bat your eyelashes at him playfully. “You love me.”

“Lies.”

“You bought me a whole bag of chocolate last weekend!”

“That was merely because-”

Your brother’s rambling comes to a halt, his eyes suddenly narrowing as he glares at something across the field of grass. His mouth twists up into a disgruntled frown.

You follow his line of vision to see none other than James Potter stumbling towards your clique, casting dirty looks at his friends behind him as they urge him towards you.

A sigh escapes you before you can even think about it. It annoyed you greatly, whenever James came crawling after you all like a desperate dog, just for the sake of Lily.

That was all it was, you tried to convince yourself. You told yourself that the acidic burning sensation of your heart in your chest was just because it was frustrating how obsessed he was, how his eyes lit up whenever they landed on Lily, how he stumbled over his words whenever he was near.

He was annoying, a stupidly beautiful wanker with an achingly gorgeous smile and eyes so bright they could rival the stars.

But you knew why you really hated him, and it frustrated you immensely. You despised him for liking Lily, hated his guts for not liking you instead. It was sickening, the way he gazed at her. And it was even more disgusting how envy took ahold of your entire being when that happened.

It gutted you, whenever you saw him looking at your best friend with heart-eyes. But it was obvious why - she was everything a guy could ever want, and she was a perfect girl for the golden boy. How could you even think about rivalling her?

What upset you the most, though, was how Lily always seemed to ignore him, looking away and rolling her eyes when his eyes met hers. You wanted to shake her, yell at her for being so ungrateful and wrack some sense into her brain. But all you did was stare quietly at the ground whenever James was near, zoning out so you didn’t have to hear the sickeningly mushy stuff which surely poured out his mouth in front of Lily.

So it was an understatement to say that your heart stopped when you heard your name coming out his mouth. You furrow your eyebrows, snapping back to the present as you press your palms down on the grass to lift your head from Lily’s lap. “What?”

James was looking at you anxiously now, with that glimmer in his eyes and a nervous smile. “Y/n, I um… I asked if you’d like to go to Hogsmeade with me? Tomorrow?”

You blink, the cogs still turning in your head. It was unfathomable, James Potter asking you out. Surely, it had to be a joke or a dare or something. Or maybe he meant to ask Lily, that was probably it. He had just asked the wrong person and was too nice to go back on his word, right?

“But you like Lily!” you blurt out immediately, a pang of hurt overwhelming you, for both you and your best friend. James’ eyebrows bunch up in puzzlement, his lips slowly twisting up into an almost comical smile. “Lily? You think I like Lily?”

You were sure you’d get whiplash from how fast you turned around to look at Lily, seeing her eyebrows bunched in confusion. “So, you don’t like me, Potter?”

He chuckles, a bit of the tension leaving his muscular frame as he shakes his head. “Redhead, you’re cool and all. But Y/n….” His gaze flicks over to you, and the affection in his eyes made you want to melt into a pool of hot mush.

Lily starts to smile, before it turns into a full-blown grin and she turns to you, nudging your elbow suggestively.

“Me?” you question slowly, suspiciously. You didn’t want to admit it, but your heart felt like it was going to burst even at the prospect of going out with him. “You like me?”

James immediately nods, turning slightly red at how long it was taking him to get an acceptance from you. But then again, he thinks he’d wait a lifetime for you to say yes, and he’d wait forever even if you said no.

Just then, you hear a loud cough on your left, and turn to see Severus glaring at you with a deadpan expression on his face.

You feel an arm bristle the hair on your head as Lily reaches over from your right, mussing up your brother’s hair. You laugh as he swats her away, tsking and cursing under his breath. “Shut up, Sev. Let my girl have her moment.”

Severus, to his credit, does shut up. Though he still has that bleary, stormy look on his face.

You turn back to James, slightly dizzy as the thought began to plant itself in your brain. The smile on his face was asking a million questions, holding a hundred insecurities. Yet you knew that there was only one right answer to them all.

“Yes,” you say softly, your lips beginning to curve upwards. Your heart was beating so loud, you were sure he could hear it.

“Yeah?” he asks, starting to grin. He lets out an exhale and scratches the back of his head, smiling at the floor before looking back at you. “Alright, then. I’ll pick you up outside the Great Hall, 5pm.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He beams at you, and it’s the most beautiful you’ve ever seen a person look before. “Bye, Y/n. And redhead, and Snivellus.”

James winks at you before turning around, causing your heart to jump and lodge itself in your throat. He jogs back to his group of friends waiting with wide eyes and bated breath.

A moment later, you can hear the cheers and whoops from across the field.

You turn back to Severus, afraid of what you’d find. He’s gazing at you with a terse expression on his face as you gulp anxiously.

“I’m sorry. If you’re not okay with it…”

“No. You are not going to bail out on him,” he says, the firmness in his voice catching you by surprise. “I know how long you’ve been waiting for this. And this is something you need to learn to do, getting your hands on the things you want. You’re a Snape, you always get what you want, you hear me?”

You nod helplessly.

“And if what you want is Potter,” he sneers, “Then Potter it is. Just don’t expect me to play nice.”

A small smile graces your lips. “Thank you.” You know he’d understand what you meant, all the things you were thanking him for.

You can see him start to soften, though perhaps that frown would be etched on his face permanently. He sighs, “Yes, yes. You’re welcome.”

Lily squeals and forcefully turns you towards her, gripping your hands. “This is awesome.”

“You’re just glad he doesn’t like you.”

“Am not!” she exclaims, but the mirth in her eyes betrays her.

You sigh, smiling bemusedly as you lie back down on her lap, watching her continue to craft the flower crowns. Maybe you’d give James one tomorrow, though you doubt he could look more beautiful than he already did.

Hi, i wanted to request a james potter x reader thingy :))

So the idea is that james and reader broke up during hogwarts/directly after because they had the children talk, james really wants to be a father but reader is terrified of pregnancy so they break up. But over the years the reader keeps yearning for james and eventually they meet again when james and lily are together and have baby harry and its just really angsty 😭😭

Hope all of this makes sense i thought of this while listening to a song lyric

thank you for the request babe i love how your brain works <3 this is quite angsty so hopefully you like it! and now i’m curious to know what song 👀

also here’s some shameless promotion for @astonishment’s series with the same name, it’s deliciously tragic (☹️☹️☹️) and everyone should check it out!!

in another life | j.p.

“Calm down, babe,” Sirius mutters as you walk in step, looping his arm through yours.

You nibble on your bottom lip anxiously, sighing as you glance over at him. “It’s not that easy, Siri. I’m seeing him after what — four years? I can’t just calm down!”

He rolls his eyes, reaching towards you and thumbing at your lip to save it from your torment. “You’re seeing me after four years.”

You turn to Sirius, and he huffs out a laugh at your deadpan expression. “Well, you never asked me to marry you.”

Sirius wiggles his eyebrows, his lips curving up into a grin. “Marry me?”

“Fuck off, Black.”

James and Lily Potter were holding a meet-up of sorts, and had invited most people in your year at Hogwarts. You were hesitant to go, given your history with James, but Sirius insisted you tag along. You knew he, Remus, and Peter had stayed in touch with James. Rightfully, you ought to have too. But neither of you tried to; maybe you both knew it was better that way.

Sirius simpers, coming to a halt in front of the large black gates of the mansion. He reaches forward and begins to twist the lock, and you instinctively reach over and grab his hand to stop him. He turns to you, confusion twisting his features. “What are you — oh. Oh, sweetheart.”

He softens when he sees the expression on your face. You’re biting your cuticles, and the anxiety in your features is palpable. Sirius sighs and firmly pulls your hand away from your mouth, intertwining your fingers together. “It’s gonna be okay. Just be cordial with him. There’s no bad blood, right?”

“Right,” you mutter, albeit uncertainly.

“But, um…” he sighs, dropping your hand to rake his fingers through his hair. “There’s something I should’ve told you before. But I didn’t wanna freak you out.”

“What?”

The apprehension in your tone causes Sirius to wince. “James and Lily, they… they’ve got a baby.”

There’s a beat of loud silence as the fact sinks in, a mount of uncertainty and hurt settling in the pit of your stomach.

“Oh.”

You’re trying not to show it, but the heartbreak on your face is painfully obvious. Sirius pouts, moving to take your hand again. “Babe, I’m sorry. I should’ve –”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, the gates swinging open to reveal a beaming James Potter.

“Pads,” he grins immediately, eyes locking on Sirius as he moves towards him and swoops him into a quick hug.

You take the moment to look James over. He looked exactly like you remembered — messy curls, toned biceps, that movie-star grin. Yet something felt different, in the way he pulled Sirius into a hug without all the raucous fervour he would’ve at 16, how he held him so gently at arm’s length while talking to him. He’d softened, you realised, from the responsibilities of fatherhood and being a husband.

They pull apart a moment later, and his gaze drifts to you. His smile loses a bit of its sunshine, not softening but not quite dimming either. “Y/n, hey.”

There’s a moment of hesitation as he looks at you, but then he seems to decide upon giving you a hug too.

“Hi,” you mutter as he shortens the distance between you, needling his arms under yours to press them to your back. You embrace him in return, and a sudden pang of hurt shoots through your heart at the familiarity of the action.

Perhaps he was remembering it too, from the way he tightened his grip. Both of you were heavy on physical touch, and it was undeniably the best part of your relationship back in Hogwarts — how he’d always have a hand wrapped around your waist, how you’d wake up to cuddles and hugs every morning. You didn’t exactly have anyone to hug anymore, living alone.

So you convince yourself that the reason you hold on to James for slightly longer than necessary was because you craved human touch, not because of… anything else.

Finally, James pulls away, his arms dropping to his sides as he gives you a small smile. You plaster one onto your face too, for his sake. “So,” he starts as he turns around, beginning to lead you and Sirius into the mansion, “how’ve you been, Y/n?”

You can feel Sirius’ gaze burning holes into the side of your head, but choose to ignore him. “I’ve been great, yeah. You?”

James nods. “That’s cool. Yeah, I’ve been good too. Things have been fun, but kind of busy; you know, with work and Lily and the baby…” He seems to realise what he’s said, and clears his throat awkwardly. Oh, of course. The baby.

Sirius is beside you in an instant, arching his eyebrows and nudging your elbow to respond.

“Oh, um… congrats on the baby, by the way.”

James turns around to face you as you walk, and you give him a grin to prove that you’re being genuine — to show him that it didn’t feel like there was a knife being twisted in your gut every time the word baby was brought up.

His eyes soften, and you know he can tell how you’re feeling. But he gives you a grateful smile, and says no more as the three of you come to a stop in front of the house.

“By the way,” James mutters as he pushes the door open, “you guys are like, an hour early. You’re the only ones here.”

You immediately turn around to glower at Sirius for subjecting you to more torture than necessary by bringing you early. But he all but smirks as he follows you in.

Your eyes coast around the mansion, taking it all in. It’s decorated in a minimalist aesthetic, white couches and brown rugs. It was pretty, that was for sure; but you couldn’t help but think how different it was from James’ place in the dorm — posters and stickers all over the walls, boisterously red curtains and LED lights. It used to be so full of life.

Honestly, you might’ve guessed an old couple lived here, if not for the small signs of their life as a family — the pacifier on the dining table, a cradle at the far end of the living room, and the heart-shaped photo frames lining the walls.

James watches you, a small smile playing on the edges of his lips. “You like it?”

He knows you wouldn’t like it, it’s everything you aren’t. Your dorm had been just like his; trying to fit as many vinyls and posters onto that small space next to your bed as possible. There would be fairy lights in every corner and succulents on the nightstand, a dreamcatcher which he’d gifted you hanging right above your bed. You were messy, as a person, and with your love too. You thought he was messy as well; but apparently he’d gotten his shit together already.

“Yeah, it’s simple. Pretty.”

“Honey —“ Lily bustles out the kitchen, a small gasp escaping her lips as she sees you and Sirius. She’s holding a ladle in one hand, and has her other arm wrapped around a baby perched on her waist.

You don’t register it when she kisses your cheek and hugs you, asks you how you’re doing and leads you to sit on the couch. Your gaze is locked on the baby, every second spent staring at him worsening the nauseous feeling at the back of your throat.

You must’ve asked for his name, because the word, “Harry,” registers in your head. This beautiful baby, with Lily’s deep green eyes and James’ luscious curls, was Harry.

Would you have named your baby Harry? Probably not, it was too generic. But it was too late now, to pick out names and choose a less boring aesthetic for a house together.

You had lost your chance back in seventh year, that night when you were laying on James’ bed, limbs tangled together as he raked his hands through your hair with all the love in the world. You’re gonna be my husband one day, you’d whispered, feeling so much affection for him you thought your heart would burst. Yeah, baby, he’d replied with a soft smile. We’re gonna live in a mansion, with our dogs and children and —

Children?

I don’t… I don’t want children. And that’s where it all started going downhill, that’s the moment James’ smile turned upside down and his hand dropped from your hair. It had turned into an argument, a screaming match — and eventually a reason to break up. James couldn't understand much you feared it, the pain of pregnancy and the exhaustion that came with motherhood. And some part of you knew that you weren’t blameless either — calling him awful things and accusing him of not loving you; though love was all he ever gave till the day you told him it was over.

The feeling of Sirius’ nails digging into your palm brings you back to the present, and you see him nodding absentmindedly as Lily rambles about how much trouble Harry’s been, and oh, she’s picked up a hobby of crocheting, and…

You flit your eyes to look at James sitting opposite you, gazing at you with his brows pinched in concern. Your emotions must’ve been obvious on your face, then. But he immediately looks away when Lily calls out to him, holding up Harry for him to carry.

You watch silently as James squeezes into the chair next to his wife, taking the small, lovely baby between his large, calloused hands. He smiles at Harry, looking at him though he was the most precious thing on earth. James’ fingers bunch Harry’s tiny shirt as he brings him close to his face, gently pressing a kiss to his forehead. Lily’s head lolls onto James’ shoulder as he shifts Harry into a comfortable lying position in his arms.

There you have it. The perfect family, with the gorgeous wife and the adorable baby and the man who could’ve been yours if you wanted.

It’s too much for you to take, and Sirius squeezes your hand as you start to shake. Harry coos, and you melt at how James’ face breaks into a sunny beam. He tilts his head to press a soft peck to his wife’s hair, and there’s so much love in that simple gesture that you feel like you could die.

You feel Sirius’ worried gaze on you, your hands trembling and your knee bobbing up and down. The taste of blood from how hard you’re nibbling on your lip is grounding; it brings you back to yourself, who you are, and not who you could’ve been.

“Hey,” he murmurs softly from beside you, but it doesn’t get lodged into your brain. The only thing you feel is your vision of the perfect family blurring, soft streams of regret rolling down your cheek. Sirius makes a small noise of pity from beside you, and James looks up instantly, eyes widening as they lock on you. Lily is fast asleep, baby Harry staring at you with his thumb stuck into his mouth.

“Y/n, you okay?” James asks gently, but you don’t reply, still looking at him with that distraught look on your face. You open your mouth, but you don’t seem to have the vocabulary to express the heartache you felt right that moment. It felt strangely like grief; like you were mourning for the version of yourself you never got to meet, for the version of James who didn’t have the chance to be yours.

James' mouth twists downwards in a frown as he stands up and steps closer towards you. It’s like an alarm is set off in your head, and you immediately jolt back to the present, sucking in a deep breath.

Your legs act of their own accord as you stand up, Sirius’s hand falling limp on the couch as he looks up at you in surprise. You gulp down the lump in your throat and fiercely brush the tears away, James coming to a halt in front of you. “Y/n, baby —“

“I’m not your baby.”

James slaps a hand to his mouth, eyes as wide as Harry’s now. “Fuck, no, it — it just came out. I didn’t mean to. Shit, you’re crying.”

“I’m okay,” you warble. James opens his mouth to retort but you don’t let him, knowing that the longer you spent here, the more the gaping hole in your chest would grow. You couldn’t bear it anymore, watching James with his wife and wishing it was you instead. The worst part was that it was all your fault, your stupidity and your rejection.

“I’m fine, really. I…I’m gonna go now, it was nice meeting you. Convey my love to Remus, Peter and the girls.” You pick up your bag, moving to the front door with a befuddled James tracking your movements.

“Y/n —“

“Bye, James,” you call out halfheartedly as you slip into your shoes. He comes to stand at the door, rocking Harry from side to side. He looks almost disappointed as you make to leave.

“I’m sorry.”

You look up, surprised. “It’s not your fault.”

James’ lips pursed together with guilt, seeming like he wants to say something as he opens and closes his mouth. He finally sighs, “It’s not your fault either.

It was startling, how he still knew just the right thing to say — he always had. The regret that had been clogging up your heart for years was drained out upon hearing that one sentence. James didn’t hold the utter failure of your relationship against you, and that was enough. If you couldn’t have his love, at least you had his forgiveness.

You give him a half smile and nod, turning around to leave. You’d go back to yours, more of a house than a home. But at least no one but yourself could hurt you there, there was no one to turn away and no hearts to break. No one to love.

“Hey.”

You spin back around to face the door, heart stopping upon seeing the moistness in his eyes. You hear the scratchiness in his throat as he sucks in a deep breath.

“James…”

“No, don’t — don’t say anything. I just wanted to tell you, um…” he defeatedly runs a hand through his hair and exhales shakily. “I hope we worked out, you know, in another life.”

That catches you off guard, your heart involuntarily squeezing in your chest. James looks almost embarrassed as he says it, but you see the vulnerability in his eyes. He was right — maybe there was some planet on which you were less of a coward, another world where he could put a ring on your finger. He’d been yours to lose in this life, perhaps he was yours to love in another.

You clear your throat, feeling nausea brimming in the pits of your gut. “Yeah, I… I hope so too.”

You spare yourself one last glance at him before turning towards the exit, praying he didn’t see the tears dribbling down your cheeks.

You squeeze your eyes shut and will yourself to trudge forward, before he can call out to you and break your heart all over again.

In a few long strides, you’re out the gates; out of James’ life again.

kiss and make-up | j.p. 💋

a/n: i know i said i was gonna take a break but… i just HAD to get this out of my system 🤭

summary: fluff!! james helps you do your makeup

James’ hand comes up to cup your cheek and you bristle, giggling as his fingertip tickles your nose.

“Babe, seriously. I can’t work if you don’t keep still,” he murmurs, bemusement lacing his words as he repositions your face.

You apologize and bite down on your lower lip to stop the smile from spreading across your cheeks. You decide that he deserves some credit for his efforts to doll you up; so you try your best to stay put.

The tip of the eyeliner feels tingly against your skin as James traces it onto your eyelid. You sneak a glance at him, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and tongue jutting out of his rosy lips. You’d give him a big fat kiss if it wouldn’t ruin the make-up he’s been diligently working on for the past hour.

“How’s it look?”

“Shush,” he mutters, tilting his head slightly as he adjusts the wing on your other eye, squinting in an attempt to do some detailing.

Marlene’s band was doing a gig at the biggest pub in town, so you were going down with Lily and Mary to watch her play. The boys were invited too; but were more interested, according to Sirius, in going actual clubbing than listening to some emo rock band.

But your boyfriend had really wanted to spend the night with you, and he claimed that it was not just because you looked really hot in your little dress. So he decided to make it up to you by doing your make-up.

James lets go of your face to lean back and admire his work, and that’s when you notice a dark smudge on his cheek. This time you can’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of you.

“What?” he asks, horrified when you clutch your stomach. His expression only worsens your giggling, an amused smile slowly creeping its way onto his face.

You shake your head, pressing one hand to your mouth to muffle your laughter as you tug him towards you with the other.

Grabbing a wet wipe from beside you, you gently thumb at the eyeliner on his cheek. “You’ve got it on your face, idiot.”

“Oh,” James mumbles, and your grin only widens when his cheeks redden. It’s your turn to grab his face, trying your best to rub the stubborn smudge away. His glasses slide down his nose unceremoniously. You suppress a smile as you push them back up.

You feel his eyes on you when you turn him this way and that, nails poking into his cheekbones. Then, slowly, a small smile makes its way onto his cheeks.

A soft sigh escapes his lips and you halt, locking eyes with him bemusedly. “What?”

“Nothing, you —“ he sighs again. gazing at you with a soppy smile on his face. “You look gorgeous, you know?” he mutters. “Like, you’re always pretty, but right now you’re extra pretty. I wish I could kiss you.”

Your heart stutters at his slushy mess of words, and you feel the overwhelming urge to leave your lipstick stains on him, every part of him you can reach.

A huff of laughter finds its way out of you, cheeks heating up embarrassingly. “I wanna kiss you too, hon. But this lipstick’s too cute.”

James pouts. “Cuter than me?”

“Oh, definitely,” you drawl, but you let him press his lips to yours anyway. He leaves the house later on with one black stain and six lip-shaped ones peppered all over his cheeks.

Request #2 | James Potter x Fem!Reader

Re-uploading due to me being shadow banned :(

Warnings: James is an idiot, mentions of him liking Lily, mentions of insecurity (reader), mentions of food and eating, mean/out of character Lily, most definitely typos and grammatical errors as it’s not proofread, slowwww burn (ish), overexerting, strict parents, swearing, lots of mentions of physical activity

Word Count: 10k

James Potter Masterlist

The library is one of your favourite places to be. It’s quiet, peaceful, and the best part is everyday you are in a new universe. Whether that universe is fighting dragons, or travelling to a new distant land, or your favourite… finding love in the most unexpected situations. But, this week, you aren’t allowed to be engulfed in such fairytales, not with N.E.W.T.s coming up. Definitely not with your family breathing down your neck about how you must achieve a perfect score. Your nightstand overflowing with letters and howlers, not to mention the lack of Hogsmeade trips.

“Y/N Y/L/N! If you think we would send you off to some foolish trip with your N.E.W.T.s coming up, you are wrong! What kind of parents do you think we are? This is your fut—”

“This is your future–bla bla bla,” you mumble, tossing the piece of parchment on your nightstand. It topples to the ground with an inaudible thud.

Everyone is out at Hogsmeade today, so you are alone, well almost… “Remus,” you whisper. “Remus!” A little louder.

His head snaps to look in your direction. “Oh! Hi Y/n.” He walks to you with a kind smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Studying,” you answer. “Speaking of…” Your eyes trail upwards to a book that you can’t quite reach on the shelf. “Help a poor girl out?”

He chuckles, “Sure.” With ease he plucks the book off the shelf.

“Thank you,” you say when he hands it to you. You avert your gaze from the book to him. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at Hogsmeade with your friends.”

He shrugs. “Studying,” he answers with the same energy as you had.

“Parents pressuring you as well?”

You both casually stroll to one of the empty wooden tables and sit.

“No, no,” he assures, quickly. “Nothing like that, it just… keeps me distracted you can say, especially when I’m… stressed.”

You nod in understanding. “I know… it must be difficult for you… well then!” You clap, snapping the both of you out of a grey daze. “Want to be my study partner?”

Keep reading

Why Didn’t We Work Out?

Summary: James Potter had two girlfriends in his seventh year at Hogwarts. Y/N Y/L/N, who he dated for five months; and Lily Evans, who he dated afterwards. When he’s dared to call one of his exes, guess who’s number he dials…

A/N: timeline for reference: reader and James dated sept-feb. James and Lily dated mar-aug. This takes place one year after graduation. 3.8k word count

It was a Friday afternoon and everyone was all gathered at James’ apartment having a few drinks to kick off the weekend. As the empty bottles started piling up, they got the idea to play truth or dare, courtesy of the deck of cards Sirius found on his way to the flat. They were all still laughing at what Dorcas confessed to when Sirius nodded at James.

“Alright Prongs, you’re next.” he says, practically bouncing in his seat.

James, ever one for theatrics, picks up the deck of cards and shuffles it around before picking a card from the bottom and turning it over.

“What does it say?” Alice asks impatiently.

“Call your ex and ask why it didn't work out and if they’d ever consider giving it another chance.” James says before putting the card down.

Everyone hollers at the task before Marlene manages to calm them all down.

“Guys! Shut it! I wanna know who he’s gonna call.” She says before turning to James. “So? Who’s it gonna be?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sirius asks, “It’s gotta be Evans.”

“No-“ Alice disagrees.

“Who else would it be?” Sirius asks.

Everyone argues back and forth while James sits quietly, wondering who to call. He knows who he wants to call, but he doesn’t know if they’d want to speak with him.

“This could change everything,” Marlene says, ever the romantic, “This could be your second chance, James. You should call the one you miss the most.”

“The only one you’ve ever really loved.” Dorcas agrees.

“The one that got away.” Alice says softly, a knowing look in her eyes.

“So, Evans.” Sirius repeats, causing everyone to either laugh or roll their eyes at him.

James doesn’t pay them any mind, he continues to stare at Alice, releasing a shaky breath when she nods encouragingly at him. Of all his friends and classmates, somehow Alice was the only one who knew his true feelings. While James assured everyone that he was fine when he and Y/N broke up, Alice had been the one to stumble upon James crying one day. He had confessed that he missed you and Alice had told him that she did as well.

She didn’t think you’d stop talking to everyone else when you guys broke up. She knew you had your own set of friends prior to dating James, but she had hoped that you’d still hang out with them every now and then. Considering that Marlene and Dorcas were already best friends, leaving Alice to be the third wheel among them, she had enjoyed having a girlfriend of her own, and cherished your company. It hurt Alice to see you pass them by in the Great Hall, not even glancing at them, as you made your way to the far end where your friends were.

Alice had tried to convince James to talk to you, to which he always refused, stating that it was done. After a while, everyone got back to teasing James about Lily, putting you on the back burner, and when he and Lily finally started dating, you were all but forgotten; being brought up only in passing, remembering something funny you had done, before moving on to something else. No matter how much time had passed, Alice always saw the sadness in James whenever you were brought up. His smile always seemed dimmer and his eyes filled with longing. Even if James had managed to fool everyone into thinking you were just a girl he dated for a few months, a girl that he was over; Alice knew that was far from the truth. That being said, he picks up the phone with shaky hands.

“Guys he’s calling!” Marlene shouts excitedly.

“Put it on speaker!” Sirius demands, causing everyone to cheer in agreement.

James types the number and presses “call”, nervously bouncing his leg up and down.

“She might not even answer.” he tells the group, though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself.

“What if this isn’t even her number anymore? What if she somehow knows this is my number and lets it go to voicemail?” He asks, looking at his friends.

This comment causes most of them to furrow their brows in confusion, wondering who he could be talking about, considering he and Lily still talk on occasion. But if he wasn’t calling Lily, then who?

The phone continues to ring, causing a pit to form in James’ stomach. “I don’t think she’s gonna-“

“Hello?” a feminine voice asks on the other line. The woman can be heard talking to someone in the background, wishing them a good weekend. She gets a chorus of “you too” in return before a door opens and closes shut.

“Hello?” The voice asks again. Remus reaches over and smacks James on the arm, snapping him out of his stupor.

“H-hi, hey!,” James stutters. “Y/N?” he asks, causing his friends to look at each other in confusion. You and James dated for a few months at Hogwarts but they didn’t think it was that serious. Not serious enough for him to call you instead of Lily for this dare. After all, he had spent years pining after Lily, not you.

“…yes?” you ask into the phone. Your voice comes off soft yet confused.

“Hey,” he says again, and then rolls his eyes at himself, “It’s James.” he breathes out.

“Who?” you ask, causing his heart to drop. “Wait, sorry, hold on really quick.”

Everyone hears you fumble with your phone for a bit before your voice rings out again, this time sounding louder than before.

“Hello?” you ask again, checking if the sound is better.

“Hi,” James answers, not knowing what else to say.

“Oh, that’s much better. Sorry about that,” you laugh softly, “Who is this?” you ask again.

“It’s James…” he says with a grimace, half expecting you to hang up on him.

“James…” you repeat, as if you’re in thought. “James from Hogwarts?”

“Yeah…” James answers, looking at Remus who just shrugs his shoulders. James from Hogwarts, he thinks to himself, that’s what she remembers me as?

“Oh shit,” you curse, surprise evident in your voice, “I didn’t recognize you. Your voice sounds so different on the phone.”

Everyone snickers at your comment.

“How’d you get this number?” you ask and immediately, the laughter stops.

“I uh…I ran into your friend Charlotte like a week after we graduated and I asked her for it.” James says sheepishly. He hopes nobody comments on the fact that that’s a long time to have someone’s number and not call them.

“And she gave it to you?”

“Well I say ‘asked’ but it was more like begging,” James admits, blushing as remembers following her around as she did her shopping, pleading with her to give him your number.

“Huh. So what do you want?”

“Just needed to ask you a question, love.” he tells you, the term of endearment slipping out without him even realizing.

“Okay…” you trail off, unsure of what’s to come.

“How are you?” James finds himself asking instead.

“How am I?” you repeat with an incredulous laugh. “You called me to ask me how I am?”

“No, sorry.” James shakes his head, even though you can’t see it. “That’s not the question. But I do want to know.”

“I’m fine.” you say simply.

“Yeah?” James asks, a soft smile on his lips as he talks with you.

“Yeah.” you confirm, wishing he’d just hurry up and get to the point already. “So…”

“Why didn’t it work out? Between us, I mean…” James asks breathlessly, finally asking the question that’s been plaguing his thoughts for the past two years.

“James,” you sigh, “Why are you asking this now?”

“I don’t know,” James says honestly, ignoring the stares of his friends. “It’s always bothered me; not knowing why you broke up with me. But no matter how badly I wanted to reach out to you- to ask you- I just didn’t. I was too scared. But I-I need to know what happened. Can you- from your perspective- can you tell me why we didn’t work?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, “I just felt like you didn’t love me.”

“What?” James asks, horrified. “Why- how could you possibly think that?”

“Come on,” you scoff, “You know-“

“No, I don’t,” James interrupts, shaking his head furiously. “I-I thought I was a good boyfriend. I thought-“

“You were,” you coo, feeling the need to reassure him. “It wasn’t all bad. You were funny and kind. You were caring. You were patient with me and my short temper and you always managed to make me smile whenever something was bothering me.”

“And your friends,” you sigh, causing them all to perk up at their mention. “They welcomed me into their group with open arms. They never made me feel like an outsider. I-I studied with Remus, I would play-fight with Sirius; Alice and I would have sleepovers all the time and stay up talking and giggling until three a.m.”

“Then…why?” James repeats, even more confused. If everything was as great as you said, why break up?

“I…I’m not an idiot, James. Even though we weren’t in the same circle, I knew about Lily. Merlin, the whole of Hogwarts did. Through the years, I would hear in passing every now and again about you two. I knew you fancied her. I knew she had been the only one you had ever been serious about, which is why I was so confused when you started paying attention to me.”

“Is it so hard to believe that I thought you were beautiful? That I enjoyed your company?” James asks.

“No, but us crossing paths was a chance encounter.” you stress. “We had been taking the same classes since first year, James. But it wasn’t until Professor McGonagall changed the seating arrangement in seventh year that you finally noticed me. Do you remember why I turned you down the first couple of times?”

“You said you didn’t want to cause any problems between me and Lily. But I told you there was nothing going on between us.” James tells you, growing frustrated.

“Yes, but your actions told me otherwise. How many times did I see you playing with her hair, or whispering in her ear?”

“I was talking with her,” James defends.

“You were flirting with her!” you correct. “You were dating me and flirting with her. I don’t know how you didn’t realize it when everyone else in the bloody school did.”

“Do you have any idea what that was like?” you ask harshly. “Having to hear day in and day out for months ’oh, it’s just a ploy. He’s doing it to get Evans’ attention, and I think it’s working. It’s only a matter of time before one of them makes a move’”

“And then I go to you, my boyfriend, for reassurance, and I don’t get any. Instead, my feelings are brushed off and I’m called, what was the word again? Oh, right, delusional. Yes, I loved you, but I couldn’t do it anymore, James.”

“And anyway,” you huff, clearly worked up by this conversation, “This was two years ago, I don’t understand why you’re calling me now asking me why it didn’t work out. If you were so bothered by the break up, why didn’t you say anything?!”

“Because I wanted you to be happy!” James shouts, standing up from his seat. He moves away from the couch and starts pacing the living room, running his free hand through his hair in frustration.

“I feel like we should give them some privacy,” Marlene whispers to the group.

“Shh!” Sirius shushes her, waving her off.

“I loved you so much, I would have done anything for you to be happy. That’s why I let you go without putting up a fight. I was doing what you wanted.” James sighs dejectedly.

“What I wanted?” you repeat skeptically. “What I wanted was for you to fight for me! For us! I wanted you to show me and everyone else at that damn school that I was the girl for you; that I was the girl you wanted! But you didn’t do that!”

“Instead, you went running to Lily!” you laugh coldly, “Just like everyone knew you would!”

“That’s not fair,” James says, sadly. “If I had known that you-“

“That I loved you? That I wanted to be with you?” you interrupt. “What? Would we still be together right now? Married, living in a nice little cottage, a couple of kids running around?”

Beep.

“Y/N-“

“You’re right,” you sigh, “I’m being too harsh. If you didn’t know that, then clearly I wasn’t the best girlfriend either.”

Beep.

“Merlin’s beard, what is that noise?” James asks exasperatedly.

“My phone, letting me know the battery’s about to die. Good timing, too.” you huff.

“You were a bad boyfriend, and I was a bad girlfriend. That’s why it didn’t work out between us. Let’s leave it at that.” you say quickly, rushing to finish the conversation before your phone dies.

“I hope everything works out between you and Lily. Or whoever you’re seeing now. Truly, I do. Take care, James. Do not call me again. I won’t answer.”

And with that the phone call ends. James stands there, in the middle of his living room, staring at the phone in his hand. It’s silent for a few seconds before Dorcas awkwardly claps her hands, getting everyone’s attention.

“Alright, who’s next?” She asks, softly. The fun atmosphere ruined by the heaviness of the phone call.

“You guys go ahead,” James says, making his way towards the door.

“Mate, where are you going?” Remus asks, standing from his seat.

James freezes at the door and turns around, making his way back to the living room.

“It’s not over yet.” he says with a shake of his head.

James reaches for his card on the table and hands it to Remus, before heading towards the door again, dialing someone else and putting the phone to his ear.

“Still gotta ask if she’d consider giving us another chance.” he tells them before speaking into the receiver.

“Hi, Charlotte? It’s James! Yeah, James Potter. Listen, can you curse me out another time? I need Y/N’s address. Why? Well apparently she broke up with me because she thought I didn’t love her. And I didn’t do anything to stop her because I thought she didn’t love me. Yeahhh, so I need her address so I can tell her that that wasn’t the case at all. Brilliant! Thanks, bye!”

Everyone stands in silence, unsure of what to do now.

“Should we keep playing?” Sirius asks.

“Or pack up and call it a night?” Remus adds.

They all stare at each other for a moment before Alice bolts from her seat and rushes to the door.

“I’m too invested in this! I need to know how it ends! James!” she calls, running down the steps, “Wait for me!”

Everyone else is quick to rush out the door, chasing after James and Alice into the night.

[ t i m e s k i p ]

You’ve just come out of the shower when there’s a hard knock at your door. Not expecting anyone tonight, you stand up with a confused frown on your face.

Running your fingers through your damp hair in an attempt to make yourself look presentable, you head towards the front door. The knocking has gone from rapid, consistent taps to a heavy fist pounding against the wood. The door shakes so much, you’re scared it’ll fall off its hinges. With your wand gripped tightly in your hand, you yank it open, only to become more confused at the sight that greets you.

James Potter stands on your porch; out of breath and hair disheveled as he stares at you. Looking past his shoulder, you see all his friends standing on the sidewalk. Sirius, Remus, Peter, Frank, Alice, Marlene, and Dorcas are all watching you as well. Alice has a beaming smile on her face as she waves enthusiastically at you, clearly happy to see you again. You awkwardly raise your hand at them in greeting before turning your focus back to James.

“I know you said you didn’t want me to call you again-“

“So you show up at my house unannounced?!” You shriek.

“And why are they here?” you ask, gesturing to his friends.

“They followed me!” James shrugs helplessly.

“What are you even doing here?” you ask, rubbing your temples in an attempt to rid yourself of the headache you feel coming on.

“To tell you, in person, that I did love you.” James says, releasing a shaky breath.

“….Alright. Thanks for stopping by.” You nod at him. You try to close the door, only for James to push it back open with his hand.

“No, Y/N, listen to me. I’m sorry for whatever I did that made you initially doubt my feelings for you. I’m sorry I was a tosser that didn’t listen to you when you tried to tell me what was bothering you.” James tells you sincerely.

“It’s okay,” you shrug.

“It’s not.” he says with a shake of his head. “I should've told you all this back then, and I don’t know why I didn’t. But I’m telling you now. Yes, I fancied Lily for years but that stopped the moment I met you.”

You roll your eyes at that and James grabs your hands, squeezing them once before continuing.

“I don’t know how you did it, but one interaction with you and I was hooked. Nothing else mattered and nobody else compared. I found myself looking for you in the great hall and in between classes. I’d ask around about you because I wanted to know everything that there was to know about you. I felt an actual ache in my chest whenever you turned me down. It was so bad I had to see Madam Pomfrey about it because I honestly thought I had an arrhythmia.” he says, which causes you to laugh and roll your eyes again, this time in affection.

“I didn’t fight for you then, so I’m fighting for you now. The truth is I liked Lily; but I only ever loved you.”

You widen your eyes and gasp at his confession. Somewhere on the sidewalk, someone, most likely Alice squeals.

“I loved you on that first day, when you shared your inkwell with me after I forgot mine in the dorm. I loved you when you watched all my quidditch matches, even though you weren’t a fan of the sport. I loved you when you hung out with my friends, even when I wasn’t there and when you spent Christmas with me and my parents.”

You bring a hand up to wipe your eyes before placing it back in James’ hold. You sniffle and grin at him, chin quivering as you do.

“I loved you every second that I dated you. I loved you when you broke up with me. I loved you the whole time I dated Lily, which sounds horrible-“ James admits, causing you to laugh.

“But it’s true. That’s actually the reason we broke up.” he admits, “I couldn’t be with her- or anyone for that matter- when my heart belonged to you.”

“I loved you then and I love you now.” James tells you, gazing lovingly into your eyes. “And I need to know if there’s even the slightest possibility of you loving me too? I know I let you down last time. But-“

James doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Having heard enough, you surge forward, getting on your tiptoes to place your lips against his. James immediately brings his hands up, cupping your face gently as he kisses you back. When you pull away, he follows, placing another chaste kiss against your lips. James kisses you all over your face, causing you to giggle before he leans his forehead against yours.

“James,” you call softly.

“Hmm?”

“Look at me.”

“I can’t” he tells you with a shake of his head, forehead still pressed against your own.

“Why not?“

“Because I’m scared this isn’t real. I don’t want to open my eyes and realize it was just a dream.”

“Does this feel real?” you ask, squeezing his hand with your own.

“Yes.”

“What about this?”

Your other hand comes up to cup his cheek. James sighs at the warmth, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand.

“Yes.” he nods, slightly.

“Then open your eyes, Jamie.”

James takes a shaky breath in before slowly peeking his eyes open. Once he sees that you are in fact, still there, he releases the breath he was holding. James tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear before cupping your face in his hands.

“I love you.” you tell him, cheeks warming at the look of complete awe that he gives you.

James kisses you again before pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

“I love you” he whispers into your ear, causing you to smile.

It’s only when Alice squeals loudly that you remember everyone else was still there. You pull back and share a shy smile with James before turning towards his group of friends that have been standing on the sidewalk.

“I guess I should invite you guys in?” you say, glancing at James briefly before turning towards the group again. “I can order some pizza and you guys can fill me in on what you’ve all been up to.”

Alice is the first to run up your steps, shoving James to the side and pulling you into a tight hug.

“I missed you so much!” she exclaims as she makes her way into your home.

Everyone else slowly makes their way inside, either hugging you or giving you a quick pat on the shoulder in greeting.

You’re about to head inside when James pulls you back.

“What? What is it?” you ask, looking up at him worriedly.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, gazing at you with a soft smile. “Just wanted one last moment with you before we head in.”

You roll your eyes and grab his hand, pulling him behind you as you walk in.

“You’re acting like you’re never gonna see me again.”

“Am I?” James asks.

“Only for the rest of your life.” you tell him, pulling his face towards yours for another kiss.

“Um, enough of that!” Sirius calls out, “I believe we were promised pizza??”

How about ploy marauders going to a party and Sirius promised to do readers make up, but is late so the other two are making an attempt. Sure they might know how to do Sirius's messy style, but do they know big dramatic styles? Can James do a perfect wing?

<3 fem, 1k

“Can you stay still?” Remus asks, turning your face a half inch where it’s held in his hand. 

“Can James stop kissing me?” you ask. 

James pulls his face from the curve of your neck, the warmth of his lips lingering on your skin. “Sorry, are you busy?” 

“You’re supposed to be helping.”

“Don’t act like you weren’t enjoying yourself.” 

You smile. Remus rubs the softest curve under your eye with his thumb, the tip of his tongue sticking out between his lips. He doesn’t know he’s doing it, concentrating instead on your face and the wetness of your makeup where it’s beginning to sink in. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he sighs. 

“You know better than I do,” James says. 

You don’t know a thing about it, that’s why you’d arranged for Sirius to do your makeup tonight before Marl’s birthday bash, but where is your awful boyfriend? Late, decidedly unavailable for makeup-ing. 

“You’ve done his mascara a thousand times,” James argues with Remus. 

“Yes, but Sirius has never asked me to do his blush.” Remus’ hand moves to the side of your face. “You are lovely, though. I think using only a little of everything is working in our favour.” 

“Sirius only lets him do mascara because he already has nice eyelashes,” you worry. It won’t matter if Remus messes up or doesn’t get close enough to the root. 

“Yes, and because he likes it when Remus holds his face like that,” James points out, eyeing Remus’ hand where it stays at your cheek. Remus has long fingers, ever-so slightly thick with two golden rings that kiss your chin as he lets his hand fall, and he’s always gentle. 

“James, I’m tapping out.” 

James pretends to roll up sleeves he isn’t wearing, your bulkiest boyfriend in a short-sleeved t-shirt that showcases the lean muscle of his forearms, the not so lean ridges of his biceps. They tense as he sits up, his knee jabbing yours, the bed creaking dangerously beneath your angled weight. “What’s there left to do? She’s gorgeous.” 

“What did you want?” Remus asks you. 

“Uh, I wanted, you know…” You sound ridiculously shy. You wish you could just do all of this faff by yourself rather than force their attention, but neither boy seems annoyed. “He does that smudgey eyeliner, it makes my eyes look bigger. And lipgloss, but I can do that myself.” 

“Are you kidding? That’s the best part,” James says. He gives you a smile confident enough to reassure you and handsome enough to make you shy from his touch all over again. “Pass me the black pencil, Remus. I’ve got this.” 

James does not got this, his expression melding from happy, adoring, to perturbed, and then annoyed. “Aw, I’ve fucked it.” 

Remus shakes his head vehemently. “You haven’t! We just need a wet wipe.” 

They search the room for Sirius’ wet wipes and come up empty-handed. A towel is wetted and taken carefully to your eyes instead, cold and rough on your eyelids. 

“Be gentler,” Remus whispers. 

James is practically atop you know, your chin tilted up to his hand. “Sorry,” he whispers in turn, then to you solely, “‘m I hurting you?” 

“No.” You’re whispering too. It feels appropriate; they’re both very close to you, and this movement might fix or ruin your makeup with the party’s start time drawing ever closer. 

“I think I’ve fixed it,” James says, taking the pencil up again, the nib soft as it rolls over the corner of your eye. “Sirius can perfect it in the car, right?” 

“I thought you were good at everything?” you ask. 

James turns your face up impossibly higher, craning his head down for a peck. “Yes,” he whispers severely, “I’m good at everything. But Sirius is usually better. Quick, let’s find your lipgloss before we’re late.” 

Remus tries to tell James that it isn’t true, a serious conversation at a bad time, and James won’t listen to a word of it. They quibble over who’s doing your lipgloss, bathe you in compliments when they’re done —aw, dove, you look so cute, and cute? she looks perfect— then suddenly an abrupt beep is sounding outside. The three of you scramble into your jackets and down the stairs, meeting Sirius where he leans against the car. He throws the keys to Remus, ushering you into the backseat with him for some last minute clean up. 

“Hey, they’ve done a good job,” he praises, another hand on your face to turn it up kindly to the light. “Did you bring your lipgloss?”  

You nod quickly and dig for it in your jacket. 

“What!” James says from the front, turning in the passenger seat to complain. “That’s the one thing we did perfectly.” 

The car starts. Remus laughs to himself behind the steering wheel. 

“Did I say otherwise?” Sirius asks, letting his fingers curve toward the back of your neck. Pale in the light, eyes lit with something funny you’ve yet to hear, he dips in close to you and talks quietly, “I’m sorry, I promised I’d do your makeup for the party. But you’ve all done well without me, you look perfect, especially your lips.” 

“Then what did you want it for?” you ask, confused, your seat belt pulling as Sirius encourages you forward. 

“To reapply.” He taps your neck with a fingertip. “Spare a kiss? I promise I’ll fix any mess.” 

Commotion from the front seat.

“James–” Remus warns. 

“What? I want to watch.” 

“Freak,” Sirius says lovingly. 

“How am I a freak? She’s my girlfriend, you’re my boyfriend, and you’re doing that voice like you’re gonna lay her down in the back seat.” 

“James.” 

—

requests r open!! pls think about reblogging if you enjoyed, I hope u did either way!!!

JADE YOUVE DONE IT AGAIN😭😭😍😍😍

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

one | two

Finding out you're a princess isn't half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can't seem to stop flirting with you.

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au (sort of), all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance james isn't flirty this chapter i lied but he will be <3

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You're in the process of ruining your pyjama bottoms with willow charcoal when your father dies. 

The charcoal is fragile, unhoused, and it snaps with too much pressure. An uneven half falls between the sheets of your sketchbook, marring the artwork it rolls over indiscriminately. 

You sigh without thinking and rub your tired eyes, spreading a line of smudgy black under your brow. Squinting, you peek at the portrait you'd been drawing. A young woman with deep, dark skin, her cheek shaded by the leaves of a sycamore tree. The branches arc over her skin in shadowed lines, sunlight dappling illustrated by sparse triangles of the white paper underneath. 

It had been an okay sketch. The snapped charcoal distracts from what you'd originally set out to do — a dynamic, revealing portrait — and instead replaces it with a more abstract feel. 

You sigh again, this time with a melodrama you'd only ever feel comfortable displaying alone. Thankfully, that's the case more often than not. You live by yourself, no partner, no pets, nobody around to see you drop your sketchbook onto the floor beside your bed, kick out your feet toward the rug, and moan. Your socks slide against the hardwood. You kick them like a child as you slip down the side of the bed, shirt caught behind you, soft middle exposed. 

You swear to yourself quietly, pressing the backs of your hands to your eyes. 

A sharp trilling sound chimes. On the nightstand, your phone vibrates hard, and the water in the glass next to it crests against the sides like tiny shockwaves. 

You pull it into your lap and stare at the number. It goes to voicemail, and then it rings again. Again, again, and again.

You consider turning your phone off. Five phone calls and counting indicates an emergency, but every cell begs to avoid whatever it is on the other side. 

You can't avoid everything, no matter how much you want to. You answer the phone. 

"Hello," you greet.

The muffled echo of a cheerful voice responds.

"Yeah, that's me… Okay. Yeah, now is fine."

More chattering. Less cheerful, diplomatic.

"My father?" you ask.

You are told two impossible truths. 

"Oh," you say. The walls spin. "Right." 

—

"I hate flying," Sirius mutters.

James hums, noncommittal. 

"You know, my good looks are wasted if we end up lost in the middle of the Atlantic ocean."

"It's not the middle of the Atlantic ocean," Remus says, sounding about as interested in Sirius' whining as James is currently. "It's an arm." 

"It's the fucking English channel," James says. It's barely the ocean. "How much do you reckon a pair of in flight headphones will cost?" 

Sirius, despite his anxiety, has the bandwidth to appreciate James' bad mood. "What crawled up your arse?"  

James sinks down into his seat, knees immediately pressed into the hard plastic of the chair in front, back aching and head heavy from a lack of rest he won't make up anytime soon. 

"He's agitated," Remus says. 

"Helpful, Moony. Super helpful."

"Fuck yourself, then," Remus says, pulling his sleep mask over his eyes and plugging in his earbuds.

The tannoy dings. The seatbelt light flashes. 

A flight attendant raises his voice from the start of the aisle. "If everybody could take their seats and buckle in, we'll be taking off in less than two minutes. Please turn all electronics to aeroplane mode. Thanks so much."  

"Is your phone off?" Sirius asks. 

"No, I actually want us to drown in the channel, but thanks for asking." 

A dark shock of curls lands against his shoulder. Sirius drapes himself unabashedly across James lap, hand on his friend's thigh, ankle crossing over ankle. Genovian through and through, Sirius doles out affection wantonly, smelling ridiculously nice as he does: a heady smell like browned sugar and citrus blossoms coalescing tickles the inside of James' nose. 

"Are you still cranky that you got demoted?" Sirius asks, smooth tones pitched into bubbly baby talk. 

"I didn't get demoted," James argues. 

James had, in fact, been demoted. 

"No, of course not. You've fallen from third guard to the Royal Prince of Genovia, may he rest in peace, to glorified babysitter of said Prince's illegitimate, forgotten child. Sounds the same to me." 

"Then we agree," James says, wanting to close his eyes. 

He'd pretend to sleep if he thought Sirius would believe it. Growing up together erases any semblance of privacy. Sirius knows James as James knows Sirius, and as they know Remus. Remus likely knows them all better than he'd ever admit, the youngest of the trio and the smartest, most perceptive man James has ever met. 

Sirius isn't perceptive, he's vigilant. He can read even the smallest signs of unrest, and it makes him uneasy. There will likely always be a shadow cast over him from a rough childhood, and while James is in a god awful mood, he reaches out to alleviate Sirius' anxiety. 

"I'm fine," James assures him, "just tired." Not mad at you goes unsaid. 

"It won't be as bad as you're thinking." 

"I'm fine. I'm not worried. Didn't sleep last night, and," —he grins as Sirius clasps his arm, their seats shaking underneath them, the plane beginning its race across tarmac— "some scrawny git is squeezing fuck out of my arm." 

Sirius flinches away from him. "You're annoying." 

James presses his shoe up to the side of Sirius' and leans back in his chair, wincing at the rattling carriage as they take off, and again when he remembers where they're going. You wait in London, though nobody in the task force assigned to your assimilation or the advisement team could come to explain how you'd ended up there. Your Genovian citizenship is unacknowledged on your passport, your birth certificate, even, and as far as Lily had been able to suss, you have little understanding of who you are. 

"She sounded tired, mostly," Lily had said when pressed for details about the new princess' personality. "In shock. Slightly disbelieving, but could you believe it?" 

Lily, James'... friend, and work colleague at a stretch, is an ambassador for the UK and full-time genovian resident. Along with a handful of other representatives and officials, she’d been responsible for opening the talks between Genovia and yourself. That is to say, she'd broken the news. 

Surprise! Your dad just died! Double surprise, you're a princess. And, no pressure or anything, but we kind of need you to come back to Genovia to maintain the royal lineage before your grandmother abdicates the throne (unwillingly). 

"Did you mention the tiara?" he'd asked Lily. The Princess' diadem, a master craftsmanship of silver-gold with a diamond the size of an apple. 

"Weirdly, Potter, I didn’t mention the jewellery." 

He supposes there hadn't been time to weasel that tidbit in between condolences and recruitment. 

You haven't promised anything in ways of returning to Genova or taking up the mantle. James understands. If he were in your shoes, he likely would've laughed down the line and blocked the number. You’d shown incredible promise as a future leader, agreeing to meet with Lily and her team at the Genovian embassy. Then, a day later, they'd modified the plan and asked if you'd be okay meeting somewhere more private. 

You'd said yes. 

As someone who may be very involved in your bodily safety in the near future, James thinks you're an idiot. Somebody calls you, claiming that you're a princess, though nobody has ever bothered telling you this before because you were never heir apparent, and that they'll tell you more should you deign to meet with them in a place with meagre surveillance, and you say yes to this?

How you've survived as long as you have is a mystery. 

He hopes you won't make his job difficult. Isn't that what everyone hopes? He feels guilty for judging you without meeting you, promising in his head to be nicer to you in actuality. You're probably grieving and definitely confused. He shouldn't be worrying about his job. 

Redetermined, James lets the anxiety of his new assignment water down. 

Sirius is thinking along the same lines: how easy will you make his particular occupation. "Bets are on. Scruffy or sweet?" 

"Huh?" James asks, pretending he doesn't understand in hopes of rectifying Sirius' attitude. 

"Slovenly or love-nly?" 

"I'm sure she's fine." 

"You should hope so, you'll be looking at the back of her head for a while." 

James rolls his eyes. 

"I'll manage, pretty or not." 

His confidence draws Sirius' curiosity. "How're you so sure?" Sirius asks, chin-lifted, light eyes narrowed in bemusement. His expression dances with the surety of somebody well-raised. He could wear a potato sack and his regal air would endeavour, deep-seeded and neat like the trim stitching of his expensive clothes. 

"Look at my face right now. Do I seem affected?" 

Sirius laughs much too loudly at the implication. "Don't act like I'm not handsome, Prongs." 

"Years of practice." James schools his features into an unaffected mask. "Uggos have no effect on me." 

"How else would you look in the mirror?" Sirius drawls. 

When Remus wakes afterward, he finds they haven't quite killed each other, though James has threatened it twice. With one hand, Black.

"Far are we?" he asks. 

Sleep has made little difference to him. He’s the kind of fatigued that can't be improved with an afternoon nap, and the kind of unwell that can't be fixed. Medicated, diminished, but never fully healed. He rolls his neck and makes three separate, unfortunate sounds, stretching his tight hands out flat over his thighs. 

"Landing any minute now is my guess," Sirius answers. "How are you feeling?" 

He waves his hand around, tired eyes locking onto James' lasting frown. "Sorry for leaving you alone with him." 

Sirius gasps his indignation. The three of them all smile in tandem, James in a rush to add to the joke. 

"You should be, fucker, I don't care how sick you are. You're sick in the mind if you think it's acceptable to-" 

"You're sick for acting like I'm some misbehaved child you've been pandering to. You're bullies, and as soon as we're in the airport I'm ditching you both in favour of a Great British Burger King." 

"One," James says, still smiling widely, "I have your per diem, so unless you brought your wallet, you're sunk." Sirius frowns. "Two, I'd love it if you would repeat that little moniker you gave me a minute before he woke up. Seriously. Shed some light on the real bully." 

Sirius pulls his sunglasses from his jacket pocket and places them over the bridge of his nose delicately. "Unnecessary." 

"I wouldn't mind Burger King," Remus says. 

"We have to be quick," James says. 

Sirius is so incensed he actually spits a bit as he scathes, "You fuckers. I want food and it's lorded over my head, but Moons wants something and your only limitation is how fast he can eat it?" 

He's not truly as angry as he appears. He's joking, and he's fallen into a familiarity that can only come with years of ragging on one another relentlessly. Still  Remus pats his tight shoulder and smiles.

"I'm a slow chewer." 

"He's a slow chewer, Sirius. Have some compassion." 

“How fast could he chew missing a few teeth, I wonder?” Sirius asks.

James gasps, delighted at his friend's casual threat. Remus does a better job at hiding his amusement, tamping back a smile as he reaches over the armrest between their seats and slapping a hand into Sirius’ seatbelt. The mechanism unlatches, the ‘Fasten Your Seatbelts’ sign flashes, and a shaming beeping sound rings overhead. 

Sirius squeaks. 

—

What do you wear to meet a British ambassador? A Genovian ambassador? Any sort of diplomat? You aren't too sure what an ambassador even is, only that every word Lily Evans has said to you sounds shockingly official. 

"Your citizenship has been reinstated whether you choose to move forward or not. We want to stress that you have choices," Lily says. Call me Lily, please. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to." 

"We also want to stress," says Emmeline, the Genovian ambassador, "that your presence in Genovia is greatly desired. For the funeral." 

"The funeral," you say softly. 

"It will be a… very, very big event. We don't have to talk about all of the logistics now. Or ever, if you're not interested." 

Emmeline clears her throat. "The family would appreciate it." 

The family. The royal family. The Queen of Genovia, your grandmother, and her… unfortunate younger sister, who's behaviour (according to the Internet) has been less than ideal. Her sisters son, who might take the throne if you refuse it. Or, so you've come to understand. 

All this lineage and politics has been hard to navigate by yourself, though rest assured, you've been assigned two personal assistants of a sort. One for appearances of the physical, and one for appearances of the mind. 

A stylist and a tutor. 

"And a bodyguard," Lily says, "your safety is the most important thing." 

You grip the end of your dress in your hands and squeeze the skirts tightly. Safety? You'd rather not embarrass yourself by asking. 

"We actually want you to meet them now," Emmeline says. 

"Whenever they show up," Lily adds. She sounds embarrassed but unsurprised, like this has happened before. 

There's a small silence. You pull your bag into your lap and squeeze it, hoping it hides the curve of your stomach. You aren't sure what you're supposed to wear to occasions like this, and so you'd worn the nicest thing you owned, a pretty, simplistic dress ruched under the chest, and a cardigan overtop. 

You catch yourself frowning and quirk your lips up into a practised smile. Gentle, amicable, the kind you'd offer a passing stranger. 

"Well," Lily says, filling the awkwardness, "I'm sure they'll come around soon. Maybe we should talk about inheritance." 

"Legally, you're entitled to an inheritance. You could think of it like a pension, an allowance you'd be given from the age of eighteen. You've already passed that, and so you'll be given the years upto, and then the rest in annual increments," Emmeline says. "There's a team of people who can and will explain it better at a later date, or whenever you want to discuss it, once you've agreed to a paternity test." 

"A paternity test?" you ask. 

You feel rather useless. All you've done is ask for explanations since you sat down, your head a spinning mill. Information goes around and around with no time to sink in. 

Emmeline opens her mouth to continue and is interrupted by three sharp knocks. 

"Come in," Lily calls. She turns her gaze to you, orange hair moving over her shoulder in a silken sheet, and raises her eyebrows. 

You don't know what it means. 

First to enter the room is a modestly dressed man with straight, sandy hair. It's long enough to peek out from under his ears, where it curls. He steps into the light, illuminating a shock of shiny scars clawed over the bridge of his nose and teasing up into one thick eyebrow. 

"Sorry," he says, not quietly but certainly not loudly. "We had trouble finding the room." 

Behind him immediately stands a man with dark hair to his shoulders, white but tanned. He wears slacks, in which a shirt has been tucked on one side and not the other, a purposeful dishevelment. 

"And the building," adds the second. 

Last to enter is the biggest of the three. You'd hazard a guess that he's six foot or taller, not the tallest of his companions but the most imposing, with a monotone outfit of pristine blacks that he fills too well, his shirt clinging to the muscle underneath it. His skin is a warm brown that soaks up the big light overhead and shines golden, his hair black and thick, laying in mussed ringlets stroked back from his face. 

He is the most handsome person you've ever seen in real life. It startles you. Worse, when he meets your eyes. 

You smile carefully. He smiles back. 

Lily stands to gesture toward each man in turn. The first, "Remus Lupin," she says, "your tutor on all things Genovia." The second, "Sirius Black, stylist and your guide on media presence." 

The third. 

"James Potter," Lily says, not looking at him. "Bodyguard. James will be with you for the foreseeable future, even if you decide on– Well. You should get to know one another, at any rate." You must wear your worries on your face, as she continues, "You're in safe hands. James was third in command in the protection of His Highness." 

"Hello," you say. 

Sirius' eyes widen in tandem with his smile. "Hello." 

"It's nice to meet you. We're sorry for your loss," Remus says.

"No," you say, head tilted toward your shoulder as you frown at James sympathetically, "I should be sorry, you actually knew him. I can't imagine how this feels for you." 

"Thank you. But don't be," James says. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Princess."

You look to Emmeline, almost like you're waiting for her to correct him. 

She smiles at you hopefully. "Shall we talk arrangements for your departure?" 

—

James is trying not to look at you too much, though if he is he can write it off as purely protective. You're sitting in your seat like you're worried about touching a seat mate who doesn't exist, arms wrapped around your middle and face pointed to the floor. 

"I'll rent a car," he says. 

You curl into yourself a little more. "What for?" 

"It's much safer." 

"I don't want you to– I mean, you aren't a chauffer." 

"I'm not." He bends at the knees to speak directly to you. "There are seven other people on this bus. One is elderly. Three are younger than sixteen. All seven could potentially harm you." 

You look to the left without turning your head, toward the sound of young laughter. He'd bet money on your thoughts. Even the children?

"The driver could have an aneurysm. He could be paid off. He could be carrying a concealed weapon." James smiles at you placatingly. "Understand? If I drive, the potential danger goes down to one." 

"Me?" 

"No. Me." He tries very hard not to wink and look like a dickhead. "But I'm not going to hurt you. Not really my perogative." 

"Oh, good." 

James recall what Lily had said, rightfully. You and James will be in each other's company for the foreseeable future, and while he has a job to do, there's room for friendliness. Sort of. 

He splits his attention between you and the front of the bus, where a small family carts a pushchair. 

"What do you do?" he asks. 

He knows you attend classes for a degree equivalent at your local college. He knows you're a waitress. He knows you moved to central London when you were very young, and that your estranged mother had been the cause of all this confusion. He asks you because he wants to know how you'll frame it. In your own eyes, what is your life?

"I'm a waitress." 

He nods. "Local?" 

"Mm. At a pub called The Morgan." 

"You have a shift today?" 

"Not today. I took the day off." You stand up and click the STOP call button on the rail James is holding. Your arm brushes against his. "It's this stop." 

James trails behind you, off of the bus and straight into a busy street. 

"How far is it to your house?" he asks, loud to be heard over the hubbub and the roadworks. 

"Not long. Are you okay to walk?"

James finds himself oddly charmed by your question. "I'm just fine." 

You squeeze through the crowded pavements lining the street, folded in, keeping your arms close, and you apologise every time you touch someone, even if it's the other person's fault. James keeps close to your back, moving to your side when he worries you might sprain your neck trying to check that you're following. He had some height on you, which is a good thing for security purposes — he can see uninterrupted over the top of your head when he stands this close. 

The day is cool, the last dregs of an end of summer heat lingering in the air and encouraged by so many bodies in one place. James wonders if you're too warm, dressed as you are in tights, but the thought fades when you trip. 

James grabs the top of your arm, fingers sliding between your arm and your chest. Closer than he wants to be, crueller than he means to be as he keeps you steady. 

To his surprise, you laugh. A really nice sound, sudden but sweet. 

"Sorry, Princess," he says. 

"You saved me," you say, a hint of breathlessness in your tone. "Thank you. My flat's in the next building over." 

"Brilliant." His bag is fucking heavy, a weight between his shoulders that aches when he lifts his hand to shield his eyes from the sun as it sets. You've got a long, long night ahead of doing nothing. "What's your address?" 

You tell it to him. "Why?" 

"For the rest of your security detail." 

He slows as you come to the main door of your building. It's quieter here, the loudest sounds a symphony of barking dogs, car engines revving, and the jangle of your keys as you unlock the door and bump it with your hip. 

"More people?" you ask. "Is that really necessary?" 

"You always do that?" 

"It gets stuck," you explain. 

He hums. "It's necessary. The media's been paid handsomely to keep our operation to themselves for now, but there's always pressure to be the first to break a story." 

"And I'm the story?" you ask, nodding toward the stairs in the centre of the room. 

He steps over a bundle of scattered letters. The building is mostly clean, but mail bulges from cubbies, and an old mattress has been left propped against a wall. 

"You're the story," he says, head up to analyse the atrium. There's a skylight spotted with green moss above. 

You take the stairs up to the first floor, where your flat is the first he comes across. That increases your risk of a break in, rapists or robbers. He asks you to wait at the door while he clears each room, knowing it's an unecessary precaution but taking it anyway. It's not worth saving the half a minute it costs on the off-chance you've been infiltrated. 

He snorts at his own train of thought and returns to you, where you're sliding a special locking mechanism between the door latch and the frame. You shake the lock. 

"Did you get that recently?" 

You look up at him and smile. "Since I moved in. I'm first on the floor. Don't want to get murdered in my sleep." 

"Good girl," he says absentmindedly, crossing the room to secure your window. 

He moves into your room again and secures the larger window over your bed. Then, because he's awful and curious, he catalogues your things. 

"You're an artist," he says, head listed toward the doorway. 

You stop by the dresser, hastily stuffing clothes left aside back into the top drawer. "Not– not really." 

The room is a crammed collection of things. It's clear you've attempted to keep it clean. You were doomed to fail, an outpouring of your heart stuffed into a matchbox; books, sketchbooks, notebooks are stacked against the leftmost wall between your bed and your dresser, while paints and pencils take up two thirds of your desk. A small sketchbook rests closed in the mess of your unmade bed, dark bed sheets disrupted by a pair of white pyjamas discarded at the end. Soot or something similar stains the fabric. 

He averts his gaze from your dirty hamper and faces you. 

"At 8PM, one of my team will swap duty with me. His name is Frank, and I've worked with him before, but if you aren't comfortable with anything he does while I'm not working, you can tell me. If I do something that makes you uncomfortable, you can tell Lily. You can tell me, of course," he amends. "I can take the couch." 

"You sleep at eight?" 

"I sleep at nine." 

"You don't mind sleeping on the couch?"

"Not at all." 

You walk to your dresser and pull open the bottom drawer. Inside is a layer of linens, and you pull them out neatly. 

"You don't have to, uh, put on a show for me," you say with a wince. 

"Sorry?" 

"I'm not a princess. I'm not the princess." 

"You don't think so?" 

You look sweet, kneeling on the floor, hair in pretty disarray from the walk home. You move it out of your face and offer a folded square to him with both hands. 

"It's a misunderstanding. But…" You take a pillowcase into your hand and stand up, closing the drawer with your ankle. "Even if I were, I don't think you need to be so formal, you know?" 

You move past him, a wave of nice smells.

"It's my job." 

Again, you surprise him by laughing, climbing on top of your unmade sheets to grab one of your pillows. "Right," you say, stripping it of its pillowcase and shaking it into a new one. The tip of your tongue makes a brief appearance as you plump up the corners. 

You climb off of the bed. "Here," you say, taking the sheet he's holding to press the pillow into his hands. 

"Oh," he says, looking down at the pillowcase. It's covered in small pink flowers. "I don't need this." 

"My settee isn't comfortable." 

"Half of my job is being able to sleep anywhere." 

You smile at him. His words don't discourage you, and he stands in the doorway between your bedroom and your living room as you lay down an old quilt over the settee and tuck a sheet around it and under the sofa cushions. 

"I know it's strange, but you could take my bed, if you wanted to. You're so tall, I don't think-"

James cuts you off, not unkindly. "Thank you, but I couldn't." He lets the side of his chest rest against the doorway, arms crossed. Your back is straight, tense with anxiety. "I have something for you." 

You blink at him. "For me?" 

He grins, his first proper smile all day, and pulls his bag onto the freshly made settee to unzip the front compartment. He pulls out a small jewellery box, pulling the lid off to hold between his arm and chest. 

The tennis bracelet inside is thin but strong, made up of gold-silver links with sapphire-coloured gemstone. He assumes them to be real sapphire or something similar, like blue-hued ruby. 

"This is a panic button." 

You seem more anxious than when he'd pulled out the box. 

"Don't worry about losing it. I'm sure the Genovian coffers will recover." 

"It's not that. Do you think it will fit?" you ask. 

He hadn't thought about it. Luckily, Mary had. 

"There are spare links hidden under the velvet." 

James puts the box on your coffee table and clicks the links into place, handling the bracelet with less care than he ought to. Firmly snapped into place, he offers the lengthened bracelet to you unlatched. 

"Here," he says, pointing toward one link in particular. "If you squeeze this tightly, the heat sensor will alert me."

"It won't feel the heat of my wrist?" 

"It will. It's sophisticated, it'll disregard anything that isn't a sudden spike. That's your panic button. You squeeze that–" He pinches it in demonstration. The small radio clipped discreetly to his shoulder starts to beep, a circling alarm. He removes his fingers from the bracelet and it stops. "Okay?" 

"I haven't even passed the paternity test yet." 

"My being here indicates that you're of special interest. We don't know if you're the Princess for certain, and neither do the newspapers. You're still in danger either way." 

You press your lips together and hold out your wrist. 

James steps close to you, enough to see details and lines he's missed. The longer he stays in your company, the more endeared he is to your shy smile, and your kindness, and he thinks you're the type of person who's outsides reflect the insides. You smile. 

Either side of your wrist glows with heat as he drapes the bracelet over your skin and clicks it closed, wary of pinching you. 

The room is quiet. The clock over your small kitchen table ticks. 

"There," James murmurs, taking back his hands. 

"Thank you." 

He disregards it completely. "No worries." 

His informality gets you, and you smile, your own first and proper smile since you'd been introduced. 

By the time Frank arrives for turnover, James is confident that his assignment to your protection won't be nearly as awful as he'd thought. You'd insisted on making him something to eat, which he'd been sincerely grateful for, as a man can't run on Burger King alone, and then you'd practically showered him in an awkward but entirely genuine hospitality, offering your bathroom and all its contents, every blanket you owned, the TV remote, and a tin of biscuits. 

He introduces you to Frank, and for an hour you make yourself busy in the kitchen, cleaning dishes you'd refused his help with and wiping down the counters. 

He senses your unease at being outnumbered in your own home. Unfortunately, there isn't much he can do to make you feel better, besides appoint Frank to door duty and try to offer some words of comfort. 

James tries not to look as imposing as he feels, clearing his throat to draw your attention as you leave the kitchenette.

"Listen," he says softly, a mirror of you now that you're both changed into lounge clothes and damp-haired from the shower, "I want to reassure you— I'm here to protect you from any and every threat. I know this is unconventional, but I promise to do my best to make this easy for you." 

You look down at your trainer socks. "Sorry." 

"Can you do me a favour?" 

"Yeah, of course," you say, raising your chin. 

"No more apologies. This is hard, and I know that, you don't have to say sorry for anything. I'll promise you whatever you need me to if that will make you feel more comfortable."

Princess or no princess, you're confused, and you're unhappy in your own home. James wouldn't want that for anybody. 

"Do you think someone's going to kill me?" you ask. 

James softens. "No. Nobody is going to kill you." His smile melds slowly to mischief, dark lashes kissing in the corners of his eyes as he squints. "I'm a brilliant bodyguard, okay? Don't doubt my skills. And Frank's alright." 

You laugh under your breath, relieved. "I'm not doubting your skills." 

"Good. I'm not just a pretty face, Princess." 

You sober at the title. The flicker of camaraderie between you fizzles, and you shake it off. 

"Can I get you anything?" you ask. 

He hopes that in a month, or a year, when you're living the high life in Genovia with a hundred serfs and lavish goods beyond your wildest dreams, you'll keep your earnest smile, and your good heart. He's seen exactly what court politics can do to timid young women like you.

"No," he says, matching your volume, "nothing."

"Okay. You can wake me if you need anything." 

He absolutely won't. "Thank you... Goodnight." 

"Goodnight."

You disappear behind your bedroom door. James lays down over the small sofa, alarm set for a dry-eyed 4:30AM, and listens to your flat as it cools. You close the blinds, sharpen a pencil, and for a period of time, he's lulled by the mild shushing of a pencil over paper. 

He falls asleep. He must. A silence settles, thick and uninterrupted as poured molasses. 

A splintering crash pulls him back to consciousness, and every nerve-ending sings as a weight falls to the floor. A thump sounds from behind your closed door. James practically leaps over the settee's arm to your door, Frank hot on his heels. 

He throws open the door, braced for impact.

You aren't anywhere to be seen. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

thanks for reading!! i hope you enjoyed this first part, and if you did and you have the time please consider reblogging, it makes a difference! plus i'd love to know what u think or what you'd love to see in future<3

the fics title is adapted from a line in piedra del sol by octavio paz

I think I'll always want more dad!james forever and ever 🫶🫶

dad!james blurb night or work on peonies part 2?

I support your assumption but Remus is everyone’s gay awakening.

im sorry but in my universe regulus was james’ first Gay Awakening

OKAY I KNOW I’VE BEEN OFFLINE FOREVER BUT I SWEAR I WILL POST A FIC TOMORROW

it’s a short little james x reader fic

it’s cute and sweet and made me cry a bit (happy tears i promise)

the voting was pretty clear😂 I will post the jegulus fic on Ao3 as soon as my beta readers read it

ALRIGHTY I KNOW I DROPPED OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH AGAIN

but I posted a new jegulus fic😊

Here's something that just popped into my head. Please don't post my work on any other platforms without my permission reblogging is always greatly appreciated.

James Potter x female reader

James had been killed. Y/n made her way over to the fire place with baby Harry about to floo powder to where Remus was that's when she a presents behind her not Voldemort but Dumbledore. Time seemed to freeze. " If you want the boy to live you know what must be done. " Dumbledore said. " I trusted you and you betrayed us." Y/n said. She managed to whisper Mom and dad love you to Harry before she dropped dead. Dumbledore left taking Harry with him and left everyone believing that it was Voldemort that killed James and Y/n Potter.

AMAZING! I def would be jealous too cause that girl obviously can't take a hint or just doesn't care. She def dishonors that hufflepuff name, as a hufflepuff we don't claim her.

For my lovely anon from this request: "jealous!reader if james was to be flirted with? and like how james would react to it."

Hope you enjoy it!!

"Who does she think she is?" you asked to no one in particular, you eyes trained on the hand of some bimbo who obviously doesn't understand personal space.

You had been looking for your boyfriend, wondering what had been taking so long, only to find him... preoccupied.

Sirius is the first to notice the look you're sending across the room "Uh oh" he lets out causing the others to turn to you "Someone's jealous"

Your brows furrowed together as you tore your eyes away to look at him. "Who me?" you say baffled "Why would I be jealous? I am perfectly fine" you scoffed

"Your drink would say otherwise" Marlene smirks eyeing the crumpled cup in your hand.

Your eyes widen dropping the cup on the table next to you. "Shut up" you mumble.

Lily rolls her eyes "No need to be jealous, sweetheart. Everyone knows he's yours, practically walks around with 'property of y/n' stamped on him"

"Listen here, Red" you start "I'm not jealous, got it?" you say pouring yourself another drink

Jealous pfft why would you be jealous? You are in a perfectly secure relationship with the most loyal man in the world, how could you be jealous?

The others brows raise in response, "Surrre you're not" Remus says taking a puff of his cigarette.

"I'm not! Who would I be jealous of huh? Blondie over there? The one who's been eyeing James from across the room the whole time? The one who had his quidditch number on her cheek during the game? The daft, dense, mindless little tart who is currently trying to make a move on my boyfriend" you let out with a sarcastic smile "Puhlease, I am totally unbothered"

"Riiight" Sirius is the first to speak the rest looking at you amused. "Well then good thing you're unbothered because looks like she's getting comfortable over there"

In an instant you're out of your seat, heading over there. Leaving behind a smirking group of friends.

"Anyone got popcorn?" Peter asks leaning back in his seat, ready to watch the event unfold.

---

James had just wanted a drink, now he was stuck with some random Hufflepuff girl whose name he couldn't be bothered to remember. Molly? Polly? who cares?? She was becoming way to touchy for him to care.

"Uh yeah" James nodded agreeing to whatever she had been saying whilst trying to shift away.

James' sense of discomfort eases when he sees you making his way over to him. His lips parting as he takes you in. You looked really fucking hot. You were wearing his extra jersey which, with the help of magic, you had made bigger and cinched in all the right places to create a dress. A dress that left James drooling the moment he saw you this morning, not only did it accentuate your curves but it brandished his name. Everyone knew you were his girl and Merlin did he love it.

"Hi darl-" he was cut off but your lips pressing into his. Your fingers threading through his hair tugging softly, whilst pressing closer to him. James hummed in delight pulling you into him his hands travelling down to your ass, paying no mind to girl awkwardly watching the scene. This was not the greeting he was expecting, but who was he to complain?

When you finally pulled away you giggled at his dazed state, straightening his glasses and wiping the lip gloss from his lips as he looked at you with glossy eyes.

The girl coughed, turning your attention to her “Oh sorry! did I interrupt something?” you exclaimed in faux surprise, smiling at the obviously irritated girl.

“Yes actually” she scoffed “Me and Jamie were just making hogsmeade plans, weren’t we?” she pouted looking towards him, only to find him watching you with wide eyes and a stupidly adorable smile.

Jamie? The. Fucking. Audacity.

“Oh were you?” you smirked stroking the back of James’ head “Is that true, my love?” you sent him a soft smile.

“Huh?” he murmured letting his eyes trail over your body.

You couldn’t help out but let out a laugh watching the girl scowl.

“Jamie” you gained his attention cupping his cheek.

“Yeah”

“It’s rude to not respond baby, she’s asking you something”

“Oh” he blinked “ What was the question?” he asked keeping his eyes on you.

“Whatever” The girl scoffed walking away.

James payed her no mind, pulling you back into him kissing over your face.

“You. Look. Fucking. Ethereal.” he emphasized kissing you after each word

“Mhmm could’ve seen me in something better if you weren’t distracted” you teased, pouting as you trailed a finger down his chest.

James’ head filled with ideas of what that ‘something better’ his breath catching before he caught up with your words.

“Distracted?”

“Mhm with that girl” you say eyes drifting to the Hufflepuff, who was still watching, complaining to her friends.

James smirked as he saw the look of disgust on your face. Were you jealous?

"Find something amusing?" you raised a brow, pulling away "Were you having a nice time her?"

"With Polly?" James chuckled "I couldn't give a shit about her, love."

"I thought her name wa-"

"Who gives a fuck?" James deadpanned pulling you back into him "Why would I care about her when I've got all this" he reasoned running his hands over your body. "As if she could compare to my sexy goddess of a girlfriend"

You couldn't help but smile all your worries washing away, you leaned up whispering in his ear "Yeah well your sexy girlfriend has a present for her champion boyfriend" kissing under his ear before continuing "A red lacy present"

James groaned, his pants tightened as he burrowed his head into your neck. "I should make you jealous more often"

" 'm not jealous" you roll your eyes

"Whatever you say princess"

You locked eyes with the girl over his shoulder, smirking as he kissed at your neck.

So maybe you were jealous? It doesn't matter. Because at the end of the day, your sex god boyfriend only had eyes for you.

✧gorgeous distraction✧

{James trying his best to study while you distract him}

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“Knock it off” James tries so hard to be serious meekly pushing your shoulder, you watch with a teasing smirk as the crease between his brows wobbles and a small chuckle escapes his supple lips, that he tries so hard to press into a thin line to show how ‘unimpressed’ he his, and he hates to admit it but you’ve got him wrapped around your pretty little finger.

James could never truly be mad at you, you’re his everything and he tells you so about ten thousand times a day, so he doesn’t mind much when you press ticklish kisses against his jaw and to that sensitive part just behind his ear, while he’s trying to study, his books splayed across your bed and he pretends to more interested in them than you.

He always gets this fleeting feeling in his chest whenever he’s around you and it flutters to his stomach leaving him all giddy inside, you drive him mad in the best way possible.

Especially when your gentle fingers play with the curly ends of his hair that sit against his neck, the way your cold knuckles graze against his warm skin, he thinks he just might end up going insane.

You giggle watching as he not so sneakily glances at you, a small smile dances on his lips, and you know he can’t keep his composure for long, “James… James, give me attention” you whisper in his ear as you continue press kisses along his jaw while your gentle fingers still twirl through his hair, with the hope that he might just put away the scattered books and paper tonight.

He wants to be stubborn, he wants to regain some kind of control over himself when it comes to you, but how can he? When you smell like home and your comforting warmth is radiating from you inviting him like a Sirens melody.

"I'll kick you out" he threatens, as you blow cold air against his ear with a giggle, while he scribbles notes down on some paper.

"It's my room, love" you remind him, your head resting against his shoulder

"That won't stop me from locking you out, Love" he smiles as you let out a huff and he thinks he's finally won, that you might have gotten bored, but he's proven otherwise.

Your hands playfully tug at the hem of his sweater nimble fingers dipping under the soft weaved fabric as they gently traverse his lower abdomen, and you feel his muscles tense under your teasing touch as he lets out a breathy giggle that borders on a gasp and you relish in the soft sound.

“Oh!— alright, enough you win, you win” he smiles picking up the old tattered books on transfiguration and chucking them carelessly, you gasp watching them skid across the old wooden floor.

“What did the poor books do to you?” You giggle as he scoffs at you, his hands pull you into his lap and your heart feels so full and loved as his gentle fingers trace mindless patterns on the top of your thighs, and you lean to press a small kiss to the tip of his nose.

his hands settle against your hips, "If I fail I'm blaming you" he says, chuckling as you feign offense with an overdramatic shocked expression.

“Not my fault you're so pretty James” you whisper, hands cupping his warm cheeks, and pride blooms in your chest at the redness that tints his cheeks, "Just completely and utterly irresistible"

He’s a blushing mess and uncontrollable toothy grin splays across his face, his lips wobble as he tries to stop it, and it makes you giggle, “Well... I got nothing on you Angel” he admits with a wink and you roll your eyes at his comment leaning down to capture his soft red lips in a loving kiss that leaves him breathless, and he never wants to let you go.

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☾⋆AN// *BOOM* I wrote this instead of my essay, hope you enjoyed lovelies! <3 {{requests are open!}}