Jolie - Tumblr Posts

when you get this, you have to answer with 5 things you like about yourself, publicly. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (positivity is cool!) 🤍

thank you jolie!! <3

i give nice hugs

my curly hair

love for my instruments

im a great listener (and a great yapper)

i put a lot of thought into writing letters for those i love

squealing this is so cute!! 😭😭 “it’s impossible not to smile when you’re around.” GAHHH i need to see james blush when i talk to him <33

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎

𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟼 ⟡ 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜

⟢ james potter x fem!reader

⟢ summary: modern restaurant au; james asks you to stay for some drinks after closing time . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 2.0k

⟢ warnings/tags: drinking, energy drink bashing lmao?, aged down regulus black by a few years (who is only mentioned)

⟢ the new hire masterlist ⟡ main masterlist

note: just some fluff! i should probably start making some progress on their relationship tho yeah?

It's been a long day.

Things got rough about an hour into your shift when a kid decided to drench your shoes with condiments. But that was nothing a napkin, a deep breath, and a pep talk from James couldn't fix.

But by the fourth hour— after several soft drinks were spilled on you, multiple orders came out late, a woman complained about pricing for fifteen minutes straight, a dreadfully old man kept hitting on you well after he paid for his meal, and someone told you the "Am I serious? No, I'm not Sirius" joke for the third time today— you had reached your limit.

Not to mention, you hadn't slept well the night before. Thanks to your upstairs neighbor who is dog sitting a hyperactive chihuahua, you laid awake half the night wondering how such a tiny animal could make such loud noises.

Needless to say, you're utterly exhausted. So exhausted that you almost asked James for one of his energy drinks, but you weren’t quite desperate enough.

By the time the lock on the front door clicks into place and everyone files off to complete on their closing tasks, all you can think about is your bed. More precisely, you dream of sinking into it, cocooning in your softest blanket, with your favorite book and a steaming cup of tea waiting by your side.

You're terribly eager to go home and live out this fantasy. But—

"Do you want to stay after for some drinks?"

But how could you say no to James?

Just moments ago, you were sure nothing could stop you from hightailing it home, something you'd been counting down the seconds for. You hadn't anticipated James sliding into the space next to you as you were filling the last salt shaker.

But here he is, and daydreams of your bed suddenly escape you, already willing to delay your departure before he even begins trying to convince you.

"Everyone else has already agreed. And Sirius has so graciously volunteered to pour our drinks. It'll be fun."

You exhale, an attempt to expel the tension in your shoulders and the frustrations of the day, and you nod.

"Have him start a vodka red bull for me and I'll meet you at the bar."

James squints at you, skeptical. "You hate energy drinks," he remembers.

It is a very out-of-character drink for you. But as you're almost losing the fight to keep your eyes open and your yawns at bay, canned battery acid is a necessary evil.

"Not tonight," you quip playfully, gathering your salt shakers to be put away.

"What's wrong?" James is quick to worry, his brows furrowing as he begins to help with the salt shakers.

You chuckle, plucking the glassware from his hand as soon as he picks it up. "I'm fine, just tired. And I've got this. If you really want to help, you'd pass my drink order off to Sirius."

James' eyes remain narrowed, but he lets it go. He is well aware of the rough day that you've been having. After all, he was there at every conflict to be whatever you needed: someone to vent to, an extra set of hands, or your own personal motivational speaker (as he called it).

He's hoping that post-work drinks will help you wind down— the very reason he invited everyone to stay in the first place— since unwinding with friends always lifts his mood. Truthfully, he doesn't know if that's something that lifts yours, and he realizes it probably would've been a good idea to ask first. But you've agreed to stay, so he figures that getting the drink you requested is a good start.

He feels vindicated when you finally come to claim your drink with a cheery grin and many words of gratitude. Although, you do grimace at your first sip. James chooses not to comment on it, swallowing his snarky remarks.

"What'll it be for you, James?" you ask, noticing his lack of beverage.

He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can even enunciate his first syllable, you stop him.

"Wait! Lemme guess!" you say urgently, holding your hands out to stop him from speaking.

James' parted lips morph into an amused smile as you narrow your eyes, looking him up and down, analyzing him as you prepare to make your guess. He feels scrutinized, shifting nervously in his seat as your eyes trail over him.

"You know, I bet there's a secret side to you," you say, your tone carrying a more flirtatious edge than you probably intend, as your gaze finds his eyes again.

James tries really hard not to let his mind wander, but the tips of his ears turn a shade of red anyway as a nervous breath he disguises with a chuckle slips past his lips. You're none the wiser to the thoughts racing through his mind or the way his heart beats in his chest a little harder.

"I bet you have a refined side. I bet you drink something classy like an old fashioned or... or a neat whiskey."

Sirius, whose interest was piqued when he did notice the way James turned a little pink, has been slowly approaching with a cocktail shaker in hand. The metallic rattling of ice cubes is drowned out as he barks out a laugh at your guess.

James tries to ignore him. "First of all, I can't believe you don't think I'm classy upfront."

Sirius slides a tall glass of ice towards James, his head turning as he addresses you. "That 'classiness' your sensing is probably a byproduct of his upbringing. Jamie here comes from money, you know."

James looks aghast, for some reason, sputtering, "Wha–! So does Sirius!"

"I've cut all ties," Sirius says, shooting James a pointed look as he places his shaker next to the glass.

"What about your brother?" James bites back.

"Oh, yes," Sirius drawls. "I nearly forgot I'm having my teenage brother funnel funds into my account. How silly of me."

"All I'm hearing is that you both have secret classy sides," you interject, your tone playful as you swirl your drink with your straw.

Sirius grins at you, "Proud graduate of Harrington Academy, at your service. My favorite class was Etiquette and Personal Conduct."

Harrington Academy, the posh boys school nestled deep into the countryside. The name rings a bell; your school's rugby team always lost to theirs. You can't imagine Sirius— tattooed, tousled, puckish Sirius— lumped in with their polished, preppy lot.

"Are you for real?" you ask. And yes, you did strategically avoid using the word serious.

“No, got kicked out,” he reveals, and you don’t doubt it. “Guess I wasn’t classy enough. As for James, he’s as classy as they come,” he says as he pops the lid off the cocktail shaker and pours a vibrant red liquid into the glass. The beverage fizzes, and he pushes it closer to James, adding with a grin, “Only the most sophisticated drink for you, Mr. Potter.”

Your lips curl in amusement. "Is that a shirley temple?"

"A dirty shirley, mind you," James says with an air of sophistication, treating the syrupy beverage with reverence as he swirls the glass as if it contains a fine wine. "Oi, oi! Where are my cherries?" he blurts suddenly.

Sirius rolls his eyes as he plops three maraschino cherries into James' drink, knowing that he would complain if only given the standard one.

You and Sirius exchange a look as James smiles like a little kid in a candy shop and takes a gulp that must instantly stain his tongue red.

"I stand corrected. You are exactly as you seem," you say through airy laughter.

James leans closer to you, shooting you a sly smirk. "And how's that? Devilishly charming? Alluring?" he asks in a silky voice.

You swallow, giving yourself a second to maintain your composure. "I was going to say boyish and laughable," you reply calmly, a hint of bite in your tone.

James scoffs, but his lips curl up at the corners, a sign that he takes no offense, as he bumps his shoulder into yours. "I'll take that as youthful and witty."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," you say coolly.

"C’mon, you can't tell me you don't enjoy a good shirley temple!"

"I haven't had one since I was a child."

“What a terrible a shame,” he says, and the genuine sorrow in his voice makes you laugh.

"I think I'll live. You know, I should've known better than to guess and old fashioned after I've seen you not go a single shift without those terrible energy drinks."

James sputters, arms outstretching toward your drink, "What you–!? You're drinking one right now!"

"This is a matter of necessity, not enjoyment," you say, very matter-of-factly.

His tone shifts, taking on a more serious inflection. "That bad, huh?" he asks, and he isn't talking about the drink anymore.

You purse your lips, pushing ice cubes around with your straw as you think.

"It was just... one thing after another all day. And I'm so tired. The only thing that's kept me standing for the last few hours was the thought of my bed."

"I'm not keeping you, am I? If you want to go–"

"No! No, I want to be here. If I had gone home right away I probably would've let my frustration simmer until I fell asleep all tense and uncomfortable. But this... this makes me feel better."

“This?” he prompts you to elaborate, wondering if— perhaps hoping— your answer has to do with him. He figures it’s a fifty-fifty chance: it’s either him or the drink.

"I don't know," you chuckle nervously, feeling your cheeks heat up. "Being here... talking to you. Somehow, you just make things better. You don't even have to try and it's, like, impossible not to smile when you're around."

James' smile fades slowly as his expression shifts into one of awe. The playfulness in his eyes gives way to a rare moment of sincerity as his shoulders relax, and the usual confident tilt of his chin softens. He looks almost touched.

When your gaze meet his, your breath catches in your throat. The conversation is steering towards something vulnerable, and your heart skips a beat. Almost in a panic, you shift gears. "You give me something to laugh at. Like your ridiculous drink order."

James snaps back into his typical self as an infectious smile spreads across his face. "Make fun of me all you want. Whatever lets me see that smile of yours I missed so much today."

You can't help the way your lips tug up at the corners, which James wastes no opportunity to point out.

"See? Look at that, adorable. Oh, how deprived I've been!" he says with a dramatic flourish and a hand pressed to his forehead in mock woe.

As you open your mouth to respond, a peanut flies across the bar and lands on the counter between you two. Another comes shortly after, hitting James in the back of the head.

His hand flies to cradle his head as if he's been gravely wounded, a look of exaggerated offense plastered across his face as he cranes his neck to find the culprit.

"Oi!"

Another peanut hits James in the forehead and Sirius snickers from the other side of the bar. James closes his eyes and sighs in defeat.

"We've been trying to get your attention for ages," Marlene complains, holding a fistful of peanuts.

James makes a point to look at you and roll his eyes dramatically before swiveling around in his chair, granting Sirius and Marlene his attention.

You listen idly as James helps Sirius and Marlene settle an argument, chuckling under your breath at their antics, your own quips and remarks remaining behind a bitten tongue.

Sometimes, you still feel like you need to be invited into a conversation. Even though it’s been well over a month since you started here, there are moments when you still feel as new as you did during your first week. Everyone has known each other for ages, and you can't help but feel out of place still.

James is the exception. Anyone who sees you talk to him would think he’s your oldest friend.

You smile at the thought, beginning to zone out as feelings of appreciation for James swirl in your mind. Your grateful to have made a friend here, even if it’s just the one.

That’s when a peanut lands in your lap.

Brant and Jolie meeting