James Potter X Reader - Blog Posts

can someone pls write a thing where James is a basketball player in university maybe (ik it’s like not similar to quidditch like at all but I loveeee) and reader is his girlfriend or like they meet and it’s like their whole beginning of a relationship and such. I just feel like it would be super cute and interesting.(ps can reader be like not the SUPER shy girl but like funny shy idkkk)

SOMEONE PLEASEEE

“Kiss me. Kiss me until I am sick of it.”

Your condescending laugh replays in his mind, almost like a mantra of your voice. Your voice is all he can think of. The way it sounded so condescending, yet loving. The way you mockingly spoke to him as if he were a small child.

“I’ll always love you,” the man spoke to his love. “I’ll always love you as long as I live.”

He didn’t understand then, and he most certainly didn’t understand now. Why would you say a thing only to lie? Why? What caused you to react the way you had? Was it something he had done?

“Oh dear.. tut tut. You don’t seem to get it, do you?”

He craves you - he craves your hugs, he wants your little notes you left him, he craves to only hear your voice, if only just once.

“If only there was someone out there who loved you.”

Your words stung. They really did. Except he can’t seem to hate you. It’s unfortunate. The more he tries to hate you, the more he ends up hating himself.

He hates himself for making you think that way. He hates himself for not being good enough for you. He hates everything about himself. He can’t hate you, even if he wished he did.

“Kiss me. Kiss me until I am sick of it.”

He really thought that you could manage to love him. He really did. He thought by saying these bold words he’d never otherwise speak, that it’d somehow lure you in, almost like a moth to a flame. However, his words seemed to have the opposite effect - they only drive you further away.

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the way i need a fic of james potter x reader inspired in The alchemy by Taylor swift

BAND-AIDS, j. potter

tw: mentions of blood

it wasn't a lie, you did nip your finger with the knife while you were cutting carrots. did you make it over dramatic so you could be alone with james, maybe, but it's been weeks since the two of you had been together.

james quickly pulled you into the bathroom, where he and lily kept the first-aid kit. stumbling to get it open, before you placed your hand on his shoulder.

"it's okay, jamie."

"okay? your bleeding, flower." he gestured to your finger, which in reality wasn't really bleeding all crazy.

"not that much, here-" you quickly turned the tap on, running your finger underneath the water. washing off the visible blood. "see, jamie." you rushed your finger straight into his face. your cut trickling a little bit of blood.

"it just needs a bandaid." james opened the first-aid kit, scavenging through for a band-aid. he pulled out a band-aid.

"and maybe a kiss?"

"you're pushing it, love." he opened the band-aid before placing it against your skin.

"please, jamie." james sighed, looking at your finger then your face. you could see the wheels spinning in his head.

"all of our friends are outside."

"they won't find out. promise, j." you began to pout while fluttering your eyes again. james sighed before licking his lips and pressing them against your cut.

"there happy, birdie." he said while opening the band-aid and placing around your finger.

"you make me happy." james smiled again before he pulled you into a kiss.

notes: i probably could have made this longer... but it's alright <3

LOVE SONG, j. potter

james potter fantasized this exact moment with you. his arms wrapped around your waist, your arms wrapped around his neck. swaying back and forth to the music playing. the songs coming in and fading into another song. he couldn't help but smile, he'd dreamt about this.

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he had taken you to the most perfect restaurant, it was a small local one. they served amazing food and it was true, james had spoken on and on about it. he'd have eaten there almost once a week, they even knew his name. it was just a simple italian place, james loved their margherita pizzas. james had told you it was one of the best.

he stood waiting for you to show up. you were only five minutes late but that didn't stop his from getting scared. it wasn't like it was your first date together but he had hoped it wouldn't be your last. he was waiting patiently, watching the street corners before he saw you walking from the street corner up to him, a big smile plastered on your face when your eyes caught him. your smile was contagious, making him smile wide.

"hi, sorry i'm late, traffic." you said before kissing his cheek.

"no worries, love." he said while grabbing the door and opening it for the both of you. you gave him a simple thank you before walking inside.

"they have amazing pizza, i normally get the-"

"margherita pizza?" you guessed, jokingly.

"how'd you know?" he was genuinely shocked, like he didn't talk about it all the time.

"i have a good memory, james." you laughed, causing him to display a slight pink blush.

"that you do" he joked, before showing you where to sit.

a lady quickly approached the two of you "hi james, welcome back and who might this be?" she said turning towards you with a big grin.

"oh, i'm y/n."

"ah! pleasure, james doesn't bring any of his friends-"

"date, she's my date." he corrected her, he wanted everyone to know you were with him.

"ahhh, a special moment. here, look over these and i'll come back in a little" she said while placing two menus in front of you both. she quickly turned on her heels before heading to the back.

"james, what do you recommend?" you asked, genuinely curious if he eats anything else other than the pizza.

the date went great, the table was filled with mostly laughter and long looks from both sides. a huge smile plastered on both of your faces when the other was talking. at one point james had marinara on his face, which you gladly wiped off. which when you did made his heart sink.

once the two of you were stuffed, he had offered to walk his flat.

"i had an amazing time, james." you reassured him.

"good, that's good. i did as well." he laughed, before reaching in his pocket to grab his keys. he fumbled a bit but got it into the keyhole. he quickly opened the door, allowing you in. he debated on making a joke like welcome to my casa, but decided against it.

"wow, bachelor pad." you said, clapping your hands in a joking way.

"what- no- no it's not-"

"i was only joking with you, jamie. shoes on or off?" you asked, hoping to take those heels off. you've never called him jamie before it had made his heart skip a beat. he liked the nickname coming from you.

"anything you want, love." he said taking his jacket off.

james quickly walked in, moving little things here and there so you wouldn't see it. he quickly turned on the music, allowing it to fade the awkwardness.

"wanna dance?" he asked, lending you his hand.

"of course." you placed your hand in his, which he pulled so you could become closer together. you couldn't help but look in your eyes. you were so beautiful to him. then he heard it, the song. the song he'd want to play while you were dancing as a married couple or something.

"our song."

"what?" you had asked, you were too busy counting his freckles

"this song, it's our song."

"yes, it's a good song. i like this song." you said before quickly placing your lips against his. he was stunned at your sudden boldness, but quickly melted into it. your lips moved against each other as they had a mind of their own.

james' hands sliding down from your waist. your hands had slid to cup his face, deepening the kiss.

when it was finally time to release, so the both of you could catch your best. james couldn't help but pant in a laugh.

"you're so beautiful."

notes: i have way too many drafts that have barely a line on them. anyways finally finished this, it's been sitting in my drafts forever xxx

STARS, j. potter

"petal?" james whispered as he climbed into bed to see your eyes closed. he laid next to you, moving the pieces of hair out your face. "baby, can you wake up for me?" he asked before shaking you slightly. your eyes fluttering open to see him, a smile spread across your face. "hi jamie." you whispered.

"hi, love can you follow me please." he said sitting back up and running to the nearest window. "jamie, m'tired." you muttered, "i know, but it's really pretty, petal." his eyes drifting from the window to you. he watched as you sat up, whipping your eyes. you looked at james fast, before throwing the blanket off your warm body. you stood up stretching and walking to james. eyes slightly open and a yawn escaping your mouth. "look love, aren't they pretty tonight." he said making you look at the sky.

the stars shined bright above the other houses and trees. you could almost make out the constellations. "wow, they really are, jamie. they are beautiful." james stopped looking at the stars and started eyeing you up and down. "you are beautiful." he muttered quickly, making your head snap towards him. "jamie, i'm in pajamas." you said sarcastically, knowing he didn't care for those clothes. you could be covered in mud and he still wouldn't care. "so, does pajamas ruin your beauty? no. no it doesn't." he said before picking you up bridal style and throwing you on the bed. he planted a kiss against your lips before you moved to grab the blanket again. "ok, let's go to bed, petal." he watched as you got all comfy again.

"i love you, jamie" you said before turning to your side. "i love you too, petal good night." he said placing a kiss on your cheek before wrapping his arm around you.

notes: james potter owns my heart <3

SOMETHING, j. potter

you knew james was a one of a kind man. the kind of man to set flowers in a vase in the middle of the table. the kind of man to kiss your nose before he left for work. the kind of man that would do anything for you.

you notice everything james has done. but he's been distant, short with everything you two talked about. every time you had asked him why he was being so distant, he'd make up an excuse.

"james, can you just tell me why you're being like this?" you shouted at him, as he sat on the sofa. "what are you talking about?" he said throwing his head back to look at you.

"you know what i'm talking about james. you've been distant." you said moving in front of him. his gaze following your every movement. "sweets, I'm not doing anything wrong! i wanted to watch my show!" he argued

"jamie seriously! god i'm so done with you! you're always lying to me! you're always gone and you won't talk to me anymore!" he could see the tears start forming in your eyes. "birdie." he said sitting up. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to be distant with you."

"god, i don't think i can do this anymore, jamie." you muttered, making him jump up. hands grabbing your upper arms. "birdie, please listen to me. i- it's hard to explain, but i will. sit please." he said shifting you towards the sofa. "look, baby- i- god, hold on let me grab something really quick." he said running off in to your shared room, scavenging through things before walking back out. "i wanted it to be more romantic, but i was so scared you'd say no." he said pulling out the tiny tiffany box. "jamie-"

he repositioned himself on one of his knees and slowly opened the small box letting the sight of a ring become visible. "baby- will you do me the honors of becoming my wife. i'm sorry i was so distant. i was just so scared you'd say no but i was also trying to make this more romantic-" "jamie, are you- yes. jamie yes." his mouth closed and formed a smile. "yes?" he ask, before you snatched the box out of his hand, you slid the ring on your finger before cupping james' face and smashing your lips onto his. mouths opening allowing each other's tongues to explore each other's. the kiss became heated fast, james' hands fleeting to your thighs pulling you into him.

you slowly pull apart, saliva spilling from both tongues. "jamie-" "i'll make this amazing for both of us." he said sliding his hands under your bum before pulling you up. "james, you are something else!" you said as he slowly kissed your neck as he entered the bedroom.

Can someone pls rec me some James potter fics? Either on here, AO3, or Wattpad. Nothing with Sirius Black! Sister or love triangles please

I agree, i want comfort not 🍆

pov: you’re scrolling trying to find a cute little fluffy fanfic to read but everything you get is smut 

no smut hate, i just want to giggle :(

༄ dating james potter headcanons

pairing; james potter x gn!reader

warnings; brief food and alcohol mentions

request; no

a/n; okay i know i have a bunch of requests already but.. i had no marauders requests so i took matters into my own hands to get some stuff onto my masterlist because im so fun and sexy /j hopefully you like these though besties <3

james potter is the most loving and enthusiastic boyfriend possibly ever

seriously, he's so full on it's actually impressive

but it never gets annoying or overwhelming, no. it's always super endearing

you never feel unloved with him

super big on forehead or temple kisses; he just thinks they're super cute and convey his love for you extremely well

if you ever want to calm him down, press a kiss to his knuckles or cheek - it works like a charm every time

james' hair is extremely unruly - we all know this - so if you run your hands through it in an attempt to detangle it, he will melt on the spot

things that also make james melt on the spot include;

falling asleep on his shoulder

wearing his quidditch jersey, especially in the stands of his games if he has a spare

bringing him dinner if quidditch practice runs particularly late

just anything about you, really

he likes to have an arm around your shoulder when you walk down the corridors, or your hand in his

if you aren't too comfortable with pda, he's fine with linking pinkies or a soft kiss to the back of your hand every now and again

at the end of the day, he wants you to be as happy as possible

james constantly pushes up his glasses with his middle finger, so often in fact he does this even when he isn't wearing his glasses as a reflex

it just looks like he's flipping everyone off unprompted

you and sirius tease him a lot for this and stick your own middle finger up at him in return

it confuses him for at least a whole minute until he realises what he's done

"you've got to stop doing that, 's not fair" "all's fair in love and war, james"

he can get a little carried away at parties - especially if gryffindor wins the quidditch cup - but he'll sober up in an instance if you need him to

you're too tired/drunk and want to go to bed? suddenly he's stone cold sober and carrying you up the stairs to his dorm

he loves dancing with you though, and will try to keep you close to him all night to ensure you're safe and having fun

you'll twirl each other around, bounce around, fling your limbs in all directions, anything

james isn't the best dancer, okay

you are one of the only people who can get james to study

he'll decline going to the library with remus, but as soon as you ask him if he wants to go?

he's grabbing his books and rushing after you without a second thought

if you're the one who's against studying however, he goes full on mother mode

drags you to the library and insists you do your homework so you don't get a detention

speaking of - this boy is no stranger to detention, and definitely no stranger to sneaking you in whenever he can because he 'gets bored'

one time you get caught and mcgonagall simply can't understand why you willingly brought yourself to detention

wakes you up by peppering kisses all over your face, ignoring your complaints and protests

but if you try to wake him up? good luck

he'll wrap his arms around your waist and pull you into bed with him

he always insists you don't have to come to his early morning quidditch practices, but he's secretly over the moon when you drag yourself out of bed for them

goes all out for your birthday

i'm talking presents, a cake he somehow managed to get, making the whole great hall sing happy birthday to you at breakfast, and a small party/gathering of all of your friends

any chance he can take to show you he loves you, he will

james potter best boyfriend thank you <3

i luv this boy so much,, i just wanted to write some things for him okay, forgive me if they aren't the best/in character <3

james potter taglist; @thesilverskull @mendesxruel @lilgayn00dle @caffeineconstellations

marauders era masterlist <3

My Girlfriends in a Band - James Potter

In which the marauders gang get to know the true side of James' rockstar girlfriend

Based off the ask by: @gfrttyuuuuuu

Warning: N/A

Faceclaim: nonsalemwitch on ig

James Potter x fem!reader

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❤️3.5k - liked by marymacdonald, your_username & 3498 others

prongspotter: well done to my amazing girlfriend you absolutely rocked that stage last night, and I hope to come and see more of your concerts in the future.

comments:

marymacdonald: maybe next time we'll come with you if black isn't too much of a pussy to be in the same room as her.

| thebestblack: hey i'm not the only person who's scared of her.

| lilyevans: yeah she can be quite intimidating.

your_username: it's no problems guys i get that quite a lot and i hope to see you again too jamie

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❤️2.1k - liked by themoonguy, your_username & 2098 others

thebestblack: okay so maybe she isn't so scary once you get to know her.

comments:

prongspotter: see i told you she wasn't scary, she just a little ray of sunshine once you get to know her.

themoonguy: your only find that out now, she's always not been scary especially since she brings me cookies before the moon fest.

marymacdonald: yeah black, you only thinks she's scary because she has tattoos and piercings you would never be able to pull off.

| thebestblack: well that's a bit rude

| regulusblack: but its the truth

your_username: glad to hear that, also thank you for the amazing day and taking me to the cat cafe i really had a great time.

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❤️10.1k - liked by prongspotter, lilyevans & 10098 others

your_username: thank you to james potter for showing me the best 2 years of my life I can't wait to spend even more with you, thank you for showing me what true love is and that every girl really does have a prince charming waiting for her out there, so happy two year anniversary to the man who has changed my life for ever.

comments:

prongspotter: no thank you angel for showing me true love that i could've only dreamed of.

|thebestblack: oh shut up you sap

|themoonguy: sirius you are literally crying at this post, i can see you curled up on the sofa next to me balling.

marymacdonald: aww happy anniversary sunshine and even bigger ray of sunshine.

So the forms didn't work so instead if you guys have a request you can just ask me to do it

FandomMas 2023 Day 1 - James Potter

Fandom: Harry Potter/Fantastic Beasts

Prompt: She hates Christmas Day with her parents as all they ever talk about is how she is single and childless. Except this year they’ve invited the neighbours. (I don’t remember where I got the prompt from)

Timing: Marauders’ Era (6th Year)

Reader's Relations: None

Reader’s House: Not Applicable

Other Notes: The reader is a pure-blood. You’ve also never interacted with James or his friends before.

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“(Y/n), you need to find yourself a boyfriend! You’re 16, by that age I was already engaged to your father!”

I inwardly sighed, as I’d had to put up with this since I turned thirteen, whenever my mother got an opportunity, which was very often whilst I was at home, she would always chastise me about not having a boyfriend or anything, wanting me to get married the minute I finished school

“Mum, please! I don’t want to rush into a marriage! I don’t care what age you and Father got married at, I’ll get married at my own pace and when I do it will NOT be for status or whatever, it will be for love,” I replied, as she continued to tie my dress around my waist.

“(Y/n)! You do not speak to me like that. You need to carry on our family, you are our only daughter, so it is my responsibility to make sure you marry a nice, pure-blooded man so you carry on the (L/n) legacy!”

I sighed, knowing not to retort back and let her finish the final details of my outfit before she spoke again, “Now, I know the Potters have a boy about your age, I’ve invited them over for lunch, I expect you to get to know James and well, if all goes well, we should hear wedding bells once you’ve finished school!”

“Yes, Mother,” I spoke in defeat, knowing there was no way I would get out of it as I heard the doorbell ring. My mother jolted up and ran downstairs, leaving me to give my Norwegian Forest cat, who surprisingly, my mother had let me name Lucas (Let me know if you get the reference), a pat on the head before following her downstairs. When I got to the bottom, I spotted my mother talking to who I guessed were the Potters in the living room.

“(Y/n)! There you are. Come here now, I need to introduce you!”

I sighed and walked over, putting on a fake smile as my mother introduced me, however, that smile became real when I locked eyes with James. My mother hadn’t told me he was so handsome and I hadn’t realised I was staring until he was waving a hand in front of my face, “Hello? Miss (L/n)?”

I snapped from my daze, “Sorry, I was just thinking about something, it’s wonderful to meet you.”

“Same to you.”

“(Y/n), why don’t you show James around? It will give you two time to get to know each other.”

I nodded, “Yes, Mother,” before turning back to James, “Shall we?” he smiled at me and we walked out of the room. I showed him around where things were inside the hose before walking outside where we sat down on a bench in the garden.

“I hate this. My mother’s trying to marry me off. Not that you’re not a great guy or anything, it's just I want to marry for love, but my mother won’t see that. Like is it too much to ask?”

“I get what you mean, (Y/n). Honestly, I’m being forced into this too but my parents have told me I should marry for love.”

“What are you doing here then? Is my mother blackmailing your parents or something?”

“No! To be honest I wanted to get a chance to know you. I’ve heard your name floating around at Hogwarts, and I wanted to get to know you.”

“R-really?”

James nodded before responding, “Really, and now that I’ve seen you in person, well... I’m not sure how to say this..”

“Just be blunt, James. Like a plaster, just rip it off and tell me what you want to say.”

He nodded, muttering an ‘okay’ before returning to his normal speaking voice, “I think I might be in love with you.”

I gasped, not expecting him to say that and smiled, “Wow, that’s not what I was expecting you to say, but to be honest, I think I’ll need more time to sort out my feelings. I know my mother is going to force us to get married anyway, but I want to let my love life happen in its own time.”

“Fair enough.”

“But, can you do me one favour until I sort this out? Please don’t mention to anyone that my mother is going to force us to get married.”

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“James, can I talk to you please?” I asked, managing to find him and his friends in a hallway shortly after breakfast one day.

“Oh hello there gorgeous.”

I rolled my eyes at Sirius’ comment and looked James in the eye biting my lip. He soon nodded and I smiled, grabbing his arm and dragging him off away from his friends. Once we were alone, I stopped and caught my breath, “So, about what is inevitable for us in the future…” He nodded and I took a deep breath, “I’m not too fussed about it anymore,” I continued, leaning up and kissing him, “Merry Christmas, James.” I giggled seeing his bright red face and stood away before turning around and going to walk off, leaving him in a state of shock, but I felt a hand around my wrist and James pulled me back into him, “I take it that means you’ve ‘figured out your feelings’ then?” I nodded, “Yeah, I love you, James.”

“That makes me happy to hear.”

-----------------------------------END OF ONESHOT

Day 1 done!

i have so much writes block rn

please help ☺️ .

guys , i wanna start writing but it’s so hard 😭 .

like the request sounds really good and i wanna do it but the words just aren’t coming to me . like when i start writing i don’t even know what to say or do . please help 🙏🧎‍♀️‍➡️ .

rules

* requests are open *

will write for ; anakin skywalker ‘ alec volturi ‘ edward cullen ‘ tate langdon ‘ kit walker ‘ johnny cade ‘ jj maybank ‘ kai anderson ‘ dallas winston ‘ kyle spencer ‘ spencer reid ‘ aaron hotchner ‘ rafe cameron ‘ sirius black ‘ remus lupin ‘ james potter ‘ harry potter ‘ fred & george weasley ‘ theodore nott ‘ lip gallagher ‘ carl gallagher

will not write anything about ; puke ; shit ; illegal age gap ; age play ; rape ; abuse ; kidnapping

in regards to perv!marauders . . . theyd so get off on the more innocent pics of you— it could be a polaroid of you smiling and it’d be covered in cum by the end of the summer bcos your innocence is so hot to them

i am losing my mind at the thought of this. the mere thought of corrupting you torments perv!marauders and something about the contrast of their filth paired with your seemingly pure disposition makes their cock throb.

the photo usually always comprises you beaming, presumably looking up at them through the camera, batting your eyelashes prettily, looking so radiant and cute. i can picture a photo of you leaning against their palm, their large hands caressing your cheek while you peer up at them. maybe it’s that sleepy look of yours; maybe it’s your flushed face or your puffy, watery eyes; or perhaps it’s the gloss on your lips that makes you look so girly and kissable that has them groaning into their pillow as they fist their aching cock late into the night, feverish and frantic to cum to the sight of you.

it's not only your innocence that gets them off, but it's the thought of ruining it that drives them to the edge. all of them would repeatedly fantasize about making you just as desperate as they are for you. they want nothing more than for you to look up at them—a betrayed, foggy look in your lust-filled eyes—begging them to take you again because three rounds simply aren’t enough and you're far too addicted to their cocks stretching out your ruined cunt to stop.

TRUTHHHH UGHHH 😭😭😭😭

One thing golden era Wattpad writers had going for them was that they knew the importance of a buildup. I'm of the opinion that the sexual tension is WAY more satisfying to read than the actual sex and quite frankly there is a serious lack of non smutty writing.

Like I really miss reading fics/ x readers that start from scratch. Meeting the characters, initial reactions getting to know them, the tension the jealousy the TENSION the freaking tension.

Looking and looking away when they get spotted, touches that feel like they linger but perhaps they didn't and they're both so hot for each other that they think it's wishful thinking. And I don't mean just sweet sunshine romances, darker works can have a buildup too but it seems like so much is just about getting to the smut instead of the psychological aspect.

Bring back the build up!!!!!!!

James Potter

Lover boy (royal au)

~A solider falls for a princess…

Surprising long distance bf

~Seeing him for the very first time

˚ʚChat.ai

Marauders

~Sirius Black

~James Potter

~Remus Lupin

~Barty Crouch Jr

~Regulus Black

Harry Potter

~Harry Potter

~Ron Weasley

~George Weasley

~Fred Weasley

~Dean Thomas

~Cedric Diggory

Percy Jackson

~Percy Jackson

If anyone knows about it, let me know please

hi im so sorry to bother you but im searching for this fic on tumblr where reader is like reborn or somehow appears into the marauders universe with prev knowledge of the situation so they befriend all the marauders & lily too, and watch over them from afar going as far as to also become an animagus . random things i remember : reader has a brief fling with lily . reader is friends with lots of the paintings so i think the author left it on a cliffhanger where the paintings tell the reader that someone had been following them around while they were snooping . sorry if this is rlly vague i just rlly want to find this fic again T_T

I don't think I've ever read this, I'm sorry but now I kinda want to.

@robieangel @morwap @forourmoons @turvi and anyone else, do you know this fic?

Plausible deniability | Poly! Marauders; A. Dolohov:

Warnings: jealousy; the boys are kind of dicks in this one; reader is a certified smartass; my dialogue is pretencious as hell; Dolohov is a desperate flirt.

Your lads leave you alone at a party you took them to, so they won't care if you happen to dance with someone else. Right?

You had always been a good girlfriend.

Scratch that, you always were a great girlfriend.

And you knew that for a fact.

There wasn't one thing in this world you wouldn't do for your boyfriends. Your love for them was beyond any type of rational comprehension, to the point you had made yourself look stupid in front of others just because you adored them so much.

All those days you stayed back to reason with a teacher, or a prefect or with Filch and talk them out of murdering your beloved boys while those same lads were out running to save their own skin; All those times you went out of your way to fix expulsion-worthy mistakes they commited during a prank; All those nights you lost sleep so you could help them study for the incoming exams you knew they had been ignoring in favor of perfecting yet another grandious plan to humiliate the Slytherins.

That was how you told them you loved them.

And you did.

Not only did you simply love them, you showed them you loved them.

So why was it that everytime you looked at one of them from the small green and silver couch you were sitting on, they seemed to have one or ten other girls in their arms?

You took them to this party. You were the sole reason they had gotten in here in the first place.

Would it kill them to spend five minutes with you before going off to do Godric knows what with other girls?

No.

It wouldn't.

You weren't jealous. That wasn't the point. If that was the case you would have walked up to them, muttered some half-polite excuse to whichever person was flirting with them and pulled the boy to dance with you.

But that wasn't the problem.

The problem was that you always bended over backwards for them, to meet their desires, to make sure they were healthy, make sure they were comfortable, make sure they were always feeling their best. If something of theirs broke, you were there to fix it. If they couldn't understand something, you figured it out and explained it to them. If they needed help with anything, you were always there, at their corner, ready to help with whatever you could.

You had always been a show instead of tell kind of person.

Your problem was, they were tell but never show kind of people.

Not one of your boys ever hesitated to tell you that they loved you and that they couldn't live without you and that they'd do anything for you, but they never seemed to come through in any of those things.

And for most that you tried to brush it off as them simply being from a world different than yours, it bothered you to hell and back.

There was nothing you could do, and you knew it.

It would be no good to cause a scene and forever be branded as the crazy girlfriend, specially since you knew they made a habit of downplaying your discomfort when it came to the subject of them being overly affectionate with people who clearly had less than innocent intentions.

So you stood up as calmly as you could manage and slowly made your way to the little bar Zabini had set up.

Whiskey, beer, liquour and rum. One next to the other, all painfully dry. Perhaps if you could squeeze out a drip or two from each bottle you'd end up with a 1/16 of a full cup. But that wasn't enough for you. So you pulled back your hand, and just as you were trying your best to recall that fancy little spell that turned water into rum, the soft glow of light over glass caught your eye.

A bottle of vodka. The people in this party were visibly much more prudent than you could wish to be, for the bottle wasn't only untouched, but fully sealed and nearly glimmering under the dim reddish lighting that bathed the room, like a singing siren, lulling in the occasional unsuspecting sailor, the kind who was desperate enough to fall for her games.

Well, yo-ho, motherfucker.

Taking you newfound treasure into your hands, you poured the liquid into a whiskey glass, an inch and a half full over the bottom. And with no hesitation whatsoever, you took a long and patient sip, without even making a face.

- You know, dear, I have been standing next to this bar for half an hour. I've seen all those bottles be drained to the last drop, but not a single person was mad enough to consider touching my vodka. - The smell of the cologne that surrounded you as whoever that was leaned in to speak into your ear might as well have carried the stench of blood with it, because never in your life had you heard someone so painfully obvious in their villany speak in such a shamelessly ill-willed way. - I must commend you for your taste, красивая.

Antonin Dolohov.

Of course.

When did he ever miss a single chance to shark you?

Rhetoric question, the answer was never.

- I do enjoy the taste of nothingness and incoming hangovers quite a bit, thanks for the commendment. - Still staring into your glass, you pretended not to feel the way he very glaringly leaned into the spot you had pressed your perfume into just an hour ago. - Cheers, Dolohov. Good health to you.

He smiled wolfishly as he watched you empty that glass in one breath, walking around the table to stand as close to humanly possible to you. - As much as seeing you drink like this gives me hope that you will toss those three western boys and get with the one that could actually be your drinking partner, we should really get a dance in so I can tell you what is happening.

- Remind me again of why would I ever consider dancing with you...

- Because I know things that evolve not only you, bu you future in this lovely establishment you call home.

You scoffed: - Okay, Mr. Bond.

- I prefer Stierlitz, but Bond will do for now. - He gently took the empty glass from your hand, setting it on the table and slowly placing his massive hands on your waist, making sure to rub down the silk dress with his thumbs as he grinned at you. - Shall we, my dear?

- You better not be playing tricks on me, Antonin.

He immediately perked up at the slight softened tone you had emplyed, taking advantage of the opportunity to pull you closer as the both of you swayed to the upbeat madness of Siouxie and the Banshees. - Wow, first name basis again. Have you finally forgiven me, zaychik? Should I put your silk sheets back onto our bed?

- We were never in an empty room alone for more than two minutes, Dolohov. Let alone sleep together.

- You and I are meant to be, zaychik. You'll realize that sooner or later.

- You know I adore listening to your ravenous delusions, but cut to the chase, will you?

- Your wish is my command, my sweet. - You could feel James' eyes starting to search the area around you, and you couln't deny it hurt that he hadn't even noticed you weren't away being a wallflower anyomore. - A friend of mine has been fulfilling duty at Filch's office. He says that McGonagal and Slughorn have been going in and out of his office all day long, whispering secret messages, handing him suspecious papers with the ministry of magic seal, all sorts of things like that. So I told him to look into it.

- How wise of you.

- I knew you'd think so too, zaychik. - He had this strange habit of running the tip of his index finger up your spine and down your arms, and the fact that he was getting closer and closer didn't make you any less uncomfortable. - So anyhow, after Filch left, he found a paper near the burner and in this paper were your name and mine together, along with the names of all your ungrateful little lovers and the names of my friends.

- What the fuck?

- That's what I said. - He seemed genuinely amused by the fact you two held the same line of thinking, and it would've been actually a bit sweet to see him like that if your eyes didn't meet Sirius' for a split second. He did not seem happy. - What kind of paper would have the name of a two model students like you and I above a list of the most trouble-making and irresponsible people in the school?

- A paper that lists people who are either involved or facilitate riotous behaviour. The ministry wants to cut the tree by it's roots. You an I are fixers, casualties. They fuck up, we go there an make sure they're not expelled...

- Only so they can go and do it again as soon as the coast is clear. - He mumbled in an irritated tone just as the music shifted, and you had never felt so seen. - Cunts.

- You too?

- If you think trying to convince teachers that their favorite troublemakers shouldn't be thrown out of school, try arguing that same case for the students they despise the most.

- I can't fucking believe them.

- You and I are more similar than you would like to admit, my darling. That's why I'm warning you. That's why we should be together.

- You lost me at 'more similar than you'd like to admit'.

- Not even you can deny that we should join forces if we want those we care about not to be publicly humiliated. If we work together, and we find a way to invalidate whatever claims the ministry is trying to make, then we can save their arses and go along our lives knowing that we did the right thing while they were out being debils. - His eyes glimmered in hope as he watched you consider the offer, his hands pulling you flush into his body, so close that he could barely stand the warmth of your skin seeping through the layers of clothes that separated you. - What do you say, zaychik?

- You're right. I hate to admit it, but credit where credit is due. - Antonin could feel hilself swell up with pride, and he immediately took a step back, cordially raising a hand towards you like a proper gentleman.

- Pleasure doing business with you, little bunny. - Your hand met his as the both of you smiled, pretending you didn't hear Dolohov's heart beating out of his chest. - You have a plan?

- I have the begining of one.

- We could draw this plan out back in my dorm, perhaps I'll allow you some of my tsarskaya vodka.

- I'm not a whore.

- I wouldn't pay. - He grinned, seizing to sway for the first time and squeezing your hips in his hands.

- That's charming. Which Gangster did you steal that line from?

- It disappoints me that you don't know. It'll be my life's mission to educate you in soviet culture before we eventually get married. - You couldn't help but laugh. He was quite charming, and it felt nice to be noticed for once. But you were so invested in Antonin's back and forth jokes that you didn't notice Sirius calling for Rem and James. You didn't notice how mad they looked. And you definetly didn't notice that for the first time since they had gotten here, they were excusing himself off from the girls they had surrounded himself with. And they probably didn't notice that it was the first time in the night they had worried the slightest bit about you. - Oh, I love this song. You'll dance with me won't you? To celebrate our alliance.

- I should really get to to mapping out that plan. - You excused, drawing yourself back from him only for Dolohov to pull you right back.

- Oh, rumba. Sorry, you cannot escape a Frank Sinatra song.

- Is that so?

- You'll have to dance with me until another singer comes along. And I fear they just put on one of his longest records. - You laughed as he pulled you into him, guiding you through a performance of 'mind if I make love to you'. Your dress swirled around you, the iridescent fabric glowing under the light as he spun you around, and you felt glad you were here for the first time in the night. The same could not be said about the lads that watched as the two of you entretained yourselves.

You were in for it tonight.

Am I the only one that wants angst but with no happy ending? Like I wanna have my heart broken and then be devastated that it’s not fixed I don’t wanna have to read that they’ve been forgiven so easily. Please tell me I’m not the only one.

Masterlist

Gilmore Girls

Jess Mariano

Harry Potter

Regulus Black

Remus Lupin

Sirius Black

James Potter

Lily Evans

Marlene McKinnon

Requests

Requests are closed ignore the shit below it I cba to remove it

I will write for:

All of the marauders

Jess Mariano

Lily Evans

Marlene McKinnon

Regulus Black

Fred Weasley

I will write:

Fluff

Angst

Hurt/comfort

Please do not request smut I’ll read it but I can’t write it trust me (I threw my phone across my room last time I tried it won’t end well)

Have a good day!

I genuinely think this little mini series is my favorite AU ever I could die happy

Hiiii!! I saw that you were asking for camp counselor! James and I got an idea, what if reader and him weren’t yet together but they were both pinning on one another and he was just telling the kids how adorable the reader is and the kids thought that they would be so good together and were so happy when they finally got together!!!

Thanks for requesting sweetheart!

camp counselor!James x fem!reader ♡ 751 words

You spot James before he does you, holding court among a circle of campers enjoying their free time after lunch. The sun beats down on the unshaded bit of grass in front of his cabin, but James doesn’t seem to mind. He’s all loose and smiley, skin glowing in the afternoon light and hair that hasn’t been cut since May curling just above the rims of his glasses, meanwhile you can already feel the tickle of sweat forming on your skin. 

He looks up as you approach, grin widening the second before his face smooths into seriousness. “Careful, guys, we’ve got a wily one coming to join us,” he tells the kids. “Keep your cards close.” 

You roll your eyes, sitting down with your legs crossed beneath you between a couple of girls from your cabin. “What are you playing?” You ask them, and yet James answers anyway. 

“Blackjack.” You look up at him, and he smiles. Almost bashfully, like he’s unable to help himself. “Crazy eights,” he concedes, setting down his hand to deal you in. “Here, we’re just starting.” 

“James,” one of his boys whines, “we’re halfway through.”

“What harm does it do you, Cal?” he asks. “You’re set to win anyway.” 

“It’s okay,” you promise, “James is allowed to set me up for failure if he likes.” 

James pretends to be appalled, making the kids laugh, but he can’t keep it up for long before he’s smiling back at you. You like doing this with him, allying together. It feels like you’re in on some sort of secret, though you’re not sure what that might be. 

“It’s probably because he fancies her,” one of the other boys whispers to Cal in a not-so-low voice. 

You do your best to keep your eyes on your cards and your feelings off your face, but you feel a heat that has nothing to do with the sun creeping up the back of your neck. 

“Shush!” One of your campers, Mary, elbows the other boy sharply. “You’re so loud.” 

You don’t dare sneak a glance up at James, but when one of the girls goes, “Wait, what?” and the circle erupts in giggles, you can’t help it. He’s grinning at you, that us-against-the-world look again, like kids, right? You hope your answering smile looks half as relaxed. 

“You guys are worse gossips than my mum, you know that?” The kids’ laughter worsens as he feigns an exasperation that’s easy to see through, setting his hands on his hips. You pointedly do not notice how nicely the pose displays his biceps and forearms. “This is why I don’t tell you any real secrets.”

The boys from James’ cabin look genuinely upset. You feel a bit bad for them even as relief washes over you, tinged with a bit of disappointment.

“It wasn’t a secret?” the boy who’d spoken asks. 

James gives him a sideways look. “Hate to break it to you, mate, but look at her.” Blood rushes to your face as the kids gasp and ooh conspiratorially at each other almost too loud for you to hear him saying, “I’m only human.” 

You feel no better than the kids when the first response that rushes to your lips is shut up, but you choose to take your own advice, rolling your eyes like you think he’s joking despite the light and undeniable sincerity in James’ tone. Butterflies crowd your stomach.

“Y/n, are you gonna be his girlfriend?” one of the girls from your cabin asks, grinning ear to ear. 

“Um, it’s not quite so simple—” 

“Terrible!” James exclaims, looking around the circle with a scandalized expression. “You’re all terrible. I haven’t even asked her anything! You’re going to kill your counselor, and what then? You think the next one will let you play in her hammock?” 

“We’re not allowed to do that anymore,” another of your girls says sulkily. 

James looks to you, and you shrug, sheepish. “I got caught. They said it wasn’t safe.” 

“Whatever,” James blazes onward, “the point is, who will I have to talk to if you kill her? Be considerate, guys. Plan ahead.” 

“James,” you plead, very nearly on the brink of actual death, you’re sure. 

“And that,” he says promptly, stacking three fives and holding up his hands empty, “is how you win at crazy eights.” 

The kids erupt in shouts, pointing fingers and throwing down their cards, and James sends you a wink. 

You think you need to take a dunk in the lake. 

this was just so lovely i don't even have the words

everything with you | james potter x reader

summary four times james almost kisses you and one time he does. [9k]

warnings fluff, mutual pining, getting together, first kiss, idiots in love, first date, fem!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, suggestive language/theme, late 90s au, rugby player!james

<3

James Potter is a little obsessed with you. In a cool, extremely chill and normal way, he thinks. It's hard not to be, here, at some random party half drunk and pushed into your side with your perfect hand held protectively over his head to shield him from the hubbub of partygoers.

"Still feeling poorly?" you ask, pushing the hair from his eyes.

"I need a haircut," he says, distracted by your touch.

"No!" you protest in a whisper. "No, James. Your hair‘s lovely, please don't cut it. What would I run my hands through if you did?" You say all this with a lopsided smile, one corner pulled up higher than the other, and a conspiring tone.

He blinks rapidly. Maybe he doesn't need a haircut after all.

Your fingertips push into the thick tresses at his hairline and scrape back. He shivers in light pleasure and reaches out to grab your thigh where his head is resting, indulgently absorbing the warmth of your body.

You barely notice, pulled back into a conversation with a girl on the sofa opposite. James feels his phone pulse in his pocket and is reluctant to retrieve it, worried you'll pause your ministrations. He watches you take a sip of your drink and almost spit it out laughing and deems you distracted, struggling with his phone, just drunk enough that his motor skills are fucking with him as he snaps it open.

Sirius told me to tell you that you look pathetic. Love Remus.

James scowls at his phone and lifts his head from your leg to look towards where he thinks his friends are located. Sure enough, they haunt the kitchen doorway with equally humorous looks on their faces, Sirius smug to Remus' pitying. James flips Sirius off and finds it returned, a perfectly painted and manicured finger held aloft.

You giggle by James' ear. "I hope that's not for me."

"Definitely to me. You'll have to forgive him. He was dragged up," he says, groaning at his embarrassing mates.

"Don't be cruel," you admonish, nudging him with a naked elbow.

His phone chirps again.

I also think you look pathetic. It's cute. Do you want food? Love Remus.

Moons u rly don't need to sign off every txt. Not hngry. Luv u

OK. Love Remus.

James laughs at his friend's hopelessness and tucks his phone away.

"I'm never cruel," he tells you.

You neaten the rolled up hem of his short sleeve unthinkingly and he can't help how much he wants to kiss you. It's all in the little things, he knows. You put your fingers in his hair and he's happy to lie in your lap like a dog; you fix his clothes and he wants to kiss you stupid; you smile at him sweetly, asking if he still feels sick, and if he is does he want you to go sit with him outside for a bit? He's ashamed of the heat in his chest.

James finds himself at your side with an inch between your legs, a porch bench swinging underneath you.

"I don't want to hurt your feelings," you say tentatively. He feels an alarming rush of vertigo at your words, until you continue, "But I think you could benefit from some mild temperance."

He scrubs his face, nausea ebbing as you clarify. He thought for a moment you were going to reject him before he even confessed.

"Yeah, maybe. Wouldn't have any reason for you to take care of me then," he says, startled and sounding it. He winces before he's done. You make a humming sound.

"You hardly need to be drunk for me to take care of you."

He sits with this and looks out over the garden. It's a nice space, the home in a wealthy neighbourhood, twinkling fairy lights strung up over the porch and solar powered lamps peppered down a keenly landscaped stretch of green grass and flowerbeds. There's a pretty stone path leading down to the end of the garden where a grey-white fountain spurts water. It sounds calm if you can ignore the sound of the party, which he finds himself more and more able to do as your knee creeps closer to his.

He wishes, and hates himself for it, that he'd worn shorts. Craves that tiny skin on skin contact when your thigh touches him. You must be cold in your skirt, a midi slit up one side that shows the smooth stretch of your outer thigh, colder on your top half in a spaghetti strap shirt and a loose knit cardigan.

If he thought you'd accept it he would offer you his jacket, but you won't. He's tried before. I don't want you to get cold, Jamie.

"You really don't think I should get a haircut?" he asks self-consciously, tugging a hand through his unruly waves.

"No," you say seriously, turning your torso towards him.

"It's a little long," he complains.

"James, please." You lift your hand up to replace his, pushing his hair back.

"I'll look like Sirius soon enough."

You shift. The bench sways. You push your second hand in his hair and pull it all away from his face gently. He can feel the cool breeze on his bare, clammy forehead as you sit there with your hands in his hair

You run your hand through his dark mop one last time, then stop with your hands braced at the back of his head, a big smile on your face.

"Don't cut it," you implore him seriously, looking into his eyes.

He deserves a medal for not leaning into your arms right then and there.

"How do you keep it so soft even though it's this thick?"

He doesn't understand how you can continue a conversation like this without melting. He's melting. You're talking like everything is normal, fingers twined between ink dark strands and fingertips massaging his scalp.

"I… I oil my roots before I wash it." He doesn't share how his mum insists on doing it for him most of the time now he's back home from school.

"You can definitely tell," you murmur.

His eyes shut. He blames it on his drunkenness and not the feeling of your hands.

"James?" you ask quietly.

"Yeah?" he asks, though it sounds more like an unintelligible hum.

"Are you tired? D'you need to go home?"

"Maybe." He does feel suddenly like his limbs are made of stone.

"Who are you going home with?" you ask.

You stand. The bench wobbles. One hand falls out of his hair to rest on his shoulder and his skin warms where it lands, the other tucking stray pieces of hair behind his ears. He opens his bleary eyes and is met with a silver of your midriff, promptly closing them again to push evil thoughts from his mind in which he kisses stripes over that naked skin for hours.

"Sirius is driving me home," he admits reluctantly.

"Let's go look for him."

James reluctantly follows you with a little wobble. His inebriation has faded as the night progresses but a general tipsy dizziness prevails. You press a hand to his lower back and he narrowly avoids trodding on your strappy sandals.

"I don't see him anywhere. Can you text him?" you ask.

James grabs his phone. You both press your backs to the wall to make way for some passersbys. He doesn't bother with texting Sirius: Remus always answers.

Where r u??

Went to get food. Love Remus.

When will u b back?

Sirius wanted Molly's Kitchen. Love Remus.

Molly's kitchen in MILTON KENYES?

Sorry. He is very convincing. Love Remus.

I know he is… luv u see u never when i die here abandoned & cold

See you tomorrow. Love Remus.

It takes him so long to type this all out he's surprised when you're still by his side. You're looking at the picture frames hanging on the wall with the patience of a Saint.

"They ditched me."

"Oh," you say.

"Yep."

"Well, you'll just have to come home with me," you say breezily.

He gawks. You fish your keys out of your cardigan and brandish them like a lump of gold. "I have leftover pizza. Or we can order in. If you're hungry?"

He's not. "Sure. Whatever you want."

"We can walk. It's not that far. If you can walk?"

"I can walk."

Barely. He knows it would've been a lovely stroll with you in the lazy summer air, sun still ligphting the sky despite the time, gauzy pinks and blues skimming the white-gold horizon, if only he hadn't been half cut. Your skin is shiny as finest silk and a gentle breeze floats your perfume towards him and he's close to admitting maybe he's obsessed with you in a way that isn't cool at all by the time you make it to the front door.

It's a mostly silent journey until you're shutting your bedroom door behind you and he's wondering how he got here, sitting at the end of your bed. Your room is an extension of you that he can't take in fast enough. He doesn't know what to do with his hands.

You lean down and unstrap your sandals and he toes off his own shoes, trying not to look at how you're bent over, at the silhouette of your legs in your light skirt. Next is your cardigan. He feels like a bachelor in the 1800s, hungry and guilty at your naked skin.

Your silver anklets click together as you weave past him to your bedside table. You flick on the glass shade lamp and an array of multicolour sprays up the wall and your hands. He's mesmerised.

"Pizza," you mumble to yourself, and then looking up at him, "James, I don't have any pajamas for you. Um… oh, and your jeans are gonna be uncomfortable. Do you wear boxers?"

"I- I- yeah. Yes." When he tells this story later, much later, he will not recall stammering here.

"Well, if you wanna sleep in your boxers I don't mind. Better than those awful jeans. I'm gonna heat up the pizza. Bathrooms right there," you point at the door, "if you need it. Are you still feeling sick?"

"No," he says, a smidge overwhelmed.

You reach out and cup his cheek for a second as you pass. He sits in your aftermath and worries he may not make it through the night.

Watching you eat is a strange pleasure. To get to watch you eat is the first, and then the face you make trying to catch a string of cheese is a close second. Now, lying shoulder to shoulder with you, too hot for the duvet and in his boxers he can't get the image of you out of his head. He's too afraid to turn and see the real thing in case you think he's trying to cop a feel.

He'd insisted on sleeping on the floor and you'd laughed so much you went warm in the cheeks. "No, James, that's okay. You're with me."

You'd swapped your skirt for a pair of loose cotton pants. The fabric of which brushed against his calf as you squirmed restlessly.

"It's too warm," you complain.

He's so tired he can barely answer. "Yes."

"I'm gonna open the window," you declare. You climb over his legs and there's so many points of contact he thinks he might go blind.

Window opened, you stand at the sill and pick your vest away from your skin, looking over your shoulder at him, catching him mid-heady gaze. If you care you don't show it, smiling at him with your big hoop earrings still in, your necklace, your bracelets. He frowns to himself. Are you supposed to sleep with jewellery?

You climb back into bed, standing at the edge and flopping down much closer to him than you had been before. It wafts a ridiculous gust of your intoxicating smell over him.

"It's supposed to be this hot all week," you say morosely.

"The miraculous nature of British summer time," he murmurs.

You laugh breathily. "How awful. When it's cold I want the sun to come out and when the sun's out I miss the rain."

He turns his head to watch you talk.

"I like the sunshine." You tilt your head up, in a deep debate with yourself. "It's the humidity I can't deal with. It makes my hair so frizzy. I want soft hair like you, and-" you pause. "Watcha doing?"

"Do you sleep with these?" he asks, poking at the hoop hanging from your earlobe.

"Oh. Sometimes. You're not supposed to, 'cos they're big and all, but I forget."

"Can I?"

"Sure, yes. Please."

He nods and brings his other hand up, pulling the latch off your hoop and sliding it from your ear. He climbs up onto his elbow and presses his fingers to your jaw, turning your head into the pillow so he can reach the other. You're decidedly pliant and quiet under his touch as he pulls the second out. He puts them down by your shoulder and pulls on your necklace until the clasp is in sight.

He's holding his breath. You're looking up into his face with wide, soft eyes, and he catches the tremble you resist as he pulls the necklace free from your neck.

"Tickles," you say sheepishly. He's close enough to feel the warmth of your exhale on his skin.

He drapes the necklace next to your earrings but can't bring himself to move. Your eyelashes twitch. Your lips part and he can see the tiniest sneak of your tongue.

The way you're looking at him is dazzling, dizzying. He smooths down the hair closest to your neck that he'd disrupted while detangling your necklace, ignores the unsteadiness in his hands, presses his fingers to the side of your throat.

Your eyelashes kiss as your eyes drift shut, and he leans down just as you turn your face from his.

"You're drunk, Jamie," you whisper, covering his hand with your own.

He knows you're right. Though drunk seems dramatic at this point, admittedly there's alcohol in his system, and he lets himself fall back into your sheets.

"Sorry," he says.

You bring your arm across your front to grasp his shoulder in your palm. Time moves slow.

"James?"

"Yeah?"

You brush the tousled hair from his face, your touch featherlight and familiar now against his temple. His heart soars as you cuddle in closer, skips when you touch your lips to the muscle of his bicep. "Sleep well," you say warmly.

You break the kiss and stroke the skin there gently with your thumb before turning on your back.

-

so u didn't kiss her?

u r exacerbating my pain, Black

Good. Ur pain SHOULD be 'exacerbated' idiot.

i was tipsy. she didn't want me 2

and in the morning when u were sober ??? couldn't have kissed her in between waffles????

she acted like it didn't happen so I did 2

oh my god! U r so dumb !

James dropped his phone in his lap, feeling the humiliation of his defeat tenfold. Sirius was right, James should have kissed you at breakfast. Maybe. Or at least made his intentions with you clear. He wasn't trying to kiss you because he was drunk or because you were there, he was trying to kiss you because he was hopelessly endeared to you and hoped you might want to put up with him for a bit. Or years. Whatever, it's not like he was planning the wedding or anything. Yet.

He very much hadn't kissed you the next morning. You'd gotten up before him, an angel in your new fresh clothes and your hair out of your face, skin dewy and fucking hell was he lovelorn. He'd been sick as a dog at the table and you'd mistaken it for a hangover, pressing a cup of water into one hand and two ibuprofen in the other, smelling like sweetness behind him.

"Temperance," you'd said encouragingly, lips by his ear.

He relayed this all to Remus over the phone on the bus home, who had listened without judging for the most part up until that point.

"Oh, James."

"You think that's bad?" he'd asked.

"James."

"Just. Don't tell Sirius?"

"I won't." A lie, evidently. At least I can be mad at Remus' blather mouth rather than my own pussy footing, James thinks happily, pulling a throw cushion over his face.

"I'm an idiot," he says into the cushion. It doesn't say anything back.

-

James Potter isn't your boyfriend to your whimsy disappointment, but you think he might want to be.

You'll admit that his tipsy almost-kiss was a speed bump where you worried that awkwardness would wedge between you ruthlessly, but the next morning he'd made enough jokes to have you tearing up and looked at you so adoring you assumed that point moot.

You dress extra pretty tonight, a million different trinkets, silver thin bangles that jingle. Please, you think. Please, James, just ask me on a date.

You're sick of motives. These days you only go so you can see James, tired of party drugs and alcohol and sweaty guys looking at you in that way where you know exactly what they're thinking.

You spy him now, pressing through the doorway with his entourage behind him. You think this with love. His two tallest friends are always right by his side, and a smaller girl trails behind them that you think is called Emmeline.

The first half of his friends that you knew of had arrived earlier in the evening along with your only mutual friend, Mary. You give her a saccharine smile as you peel away, not bothering to hide where you're planning on going.

She smiles indulgently and turns to the short-haired girl, Dorcas. Guilt-free, you wheedle past people you don't know and some that you do, giving pause when one of your friends from school appears. By the time you've finished menial well wishes you can't see James anymore.

"Looking for someone?"

You jump and spin on your flat shoes.

A relieved smile works its way across your mouth.

"James, you startled me," you say, voice light, pressing your fingers to your sternum.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Here." He gestures his big hand to you.

A flower. You take its stem between your fingers gingerly.

"Where'd you get this?"

"Saw it on the way."

You twirl it around and watch its petals dance before passing it back to him.

You smile despite yourself at his crestfallen expression and take a step closer.

"Put it in my hair?" you ask.

His brown eyes lighten, hot amber tea steeped in his irises. He's careful as he sews the flower's delicate stalk into the hair closest to your ear, his mouth hovering just over your forehead. You half hope he's going to press a kiss to your skin before he steps back. He doesn't, though his fingertips give you almost the same pleasure as he flattens what are already well tamed baby hairs.

You want an excuse to stay close to him. He'd done it all by himself the last time by participating in a drinking game he had no chance of winning and needing somewhere to lie down. Your lap had been open. You'd prefer he stray from any recreation of this tonight, and are saved from thinking up a new excuse when he taps the toe of his shoe into yours.

You look down at the rubber toes and then up at his face.

"Want a drink?" he asks.

You pull your shoe back just enough to hit his again. "Depends. What kind?"

"We brought a keg, not that I think you're interested in that."

"Nope," you agree, wrinkling your nose with a grimace.

His answering smile is ridiculously contagious.

"You don't strike me as someone so picky."

"I know what I like," you say, demure. "But I'll try anything once."

His eyes darken, sticky sweet; a playfulness edged in something like I dare you.

"Let's hope I can get you something that sticks," he says back, twice as smooth.

An immeasurable pleasure eats up your spine as his hand comes between your shoulder blades, steering you into the kitchen. He exchanges hellos with guys you don't know huddled around the kitchen table playing cards. One of them lights a cigarette and James stands between you and the twisting smoke, opening his arm out to the countertops covered in drink.

"What do you want, baby?"

You cross your legs and lean forward, pretending to read labels.

"How about you pick for me?" You turn your head to the side and enunciate each word through lips barely parted, eyes tracking his hands where they hang at his sides. His left hand twitches.

"And if you don't like what I choose?"

You straighten up slowly, "Then you'll make me another."

He laughs and you know he can see through all the aloof confidence you carry around you, can see you for who you are, but it doesn't read as cruelty so much as a kindness. You feel the layer of coolness you'd layered on slip away and smile at him with too much teeth, pleased when his hand claps your shoulder and he steps forward to make you a drink.

The concoction he makes is a little too sweet for you but you drink it without complaint, sitting up on the counter where there's room.

He leans with his hand braced behind him next to your thighs, face close to your own and beautiful as he talks to you, brown skin cooled by the white fluorescents and eyes shiny. You can see the smattering of dark stubble coming in if you look, which you aren't. Except that you are. Hungry, you soak in his little details. Tiniest scar by his mouth. Beauty spot not far from it under his nose, almost invisible against his skin. Wavy hair in tighter curls tonight and smelling of coconut or almond or something, fresh and fragrant and thick. His glasses, black wire frames, slide down his nose so often it drives you crazy to watch him push them back up.

Eventually, unable to resist the temptation, you straighten them on the bridge of his nose mid-sentence. He pauses to blow air out of the side of his mouth, warding off a curl dipping close to his eyebrows as you do, and the silence stretches even when your hands are safely returned to your lap.

"You look…" You press your lips together in an attempt to fight off a nervous giggle that slips out anyways as you continue, making the words less serious than they're meant to be, "Pretty. Or handsome. If you prefer."

He puts his drink down on the countertop. You knead your own fingers.

"You look pretty too. Handsome, if you prefer," he returns, creeping closer still. Your chest burns with the pleasure of being complimented. "So much jewellery tonight, you're a mirror ball."

"You don't like it?"

"Didn't say that."

You lift a hand, let all the bangles drop down your arm. "I may have bordered on excessive," you admit, abashed.

"Don't worry, I know all about excessive," he placates, picking his drink up pointedly. The image of him plastered and poorly pops up in your head.

"Yes, well, I was hoping you'd stay sober." You run your finger over the rim of your glass, unable to look at him. "In case I need some help."

His hand reaches out, a finger hooking under one chain bracelet and tugging gently. You can feel his gaze on your face, feel as he puts his drink down again with a final clink. His hand closes around your bracelet.

His fingers are gentle as his other hand slowly, slowly works up your face, fingertips pushing over the delicate, smooth skin of your cheek. His thumb finds a home at the bottom of your chin and he uses it to guide your face up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

It's intense because you want it, because he's handsome, because he's funny, because he's awfully, terribly kind. Because something between you both fits together like it's meant to, and you just know that if he kisses you everything is gonna work out like it should.

His eyes are on your lips. You follow his eyes with sick excitement and miss when he slips your bracelet off of your wrist.

You look between you both. He holds the silver links between his fingers. It's the only one he would've needed to unclasp, the rest are seamless bangles. This one, silver with small blue cut gems, is just his style.

You hold your palm out, mourn his hand as it falls from your face. You both look down between you as you wrap the tennis bracelet around his wrist and click it into place.

"There," you say, so quietly you're worried he might miss it. "Something for me to take off'a you."

His hand finds your face with purpose now, almost pulling you toward his own beaming face and he's opening his mouth, about to say something with a laugh already on his lips when a shattering crash echoes from the living room and into the kitchen. James stills, hand moving down to squeeze your shoulder protectively as he turns to the door.

A barking laugh. James turns back quickly, apologetic, murmuring a "Jump down?" and pushing his forearm under your armpit to help you down off of the counter.

As soon as your canvas shoes touch down, he takes a light hold on your wrist and pulls you along, following the guys who'd been playing cards. In the living room, Sirius sits at a coffee table with a knife in his hand. Sticking into his hand, blood already pooling around it in a black crimson horror that has half the room in morbid silence and the other half panicking.

Remus, at Sirius' left, is laughing with tears running down his cheeks, sounding like he's one guttural guffaw from throwing up. Sirius looks pretty cool about the whole thing, cooler when he spots James in the doorway.

"Prongs! Come and pull this out, would you? I'd do it, but I can't seem to make myself grab it."

Remus let's out another sobbing laugh. You can't help but giggle from behind James' shoulder, and Sirius zeroes in on this.

James drops your hand, walking forward and bending at the waist.

"Hey, don't think because you're his girl now that means you-fuck! Oh fuck, what the fuck-" Sirius presses the open sleeve of his dress shirt hurriedly into the wound, freshly opened. James holds the knife he'd just pulled free in his hand distastefully.

"Alright, hotshot, run your mouth in the car. You need stitches."

"Fuck's sake."

James drops the knife on the table and shoves the wounded boy's head with the flat of his palm, earning another curse. Remus, finally extending some friendly generosity, pulls the dark shirt he's layered over a t-shirt off and encourages Sirius to wrap it around his hand.

Sirius protests. "This'll give me an infection."

"Fuck off and die, then," Remus suggests lightly, wiping at his eyelashes with the side of his pinky finger.

Sirius wrinkles his nose. James tries to shepherd them both from the room, which has once again grown loud with laughing, most of it at the absurdity of Sirius injury.

"What did I tell you about pinfinger?" James asks scornfully.

"Not to play it," Remus supplies, stepping over people's feet with little apology.

You watch the sorry threesome make their way to the door, a disheartened feeling creeping in.

James opens the front door and pushes Sirius through it, torn looking back at you.

"Remus can't drive, so I'll have to take him," he explains.

"You still have my bracelet."

A weak argument. He can hear your disappointment. He smiles, eyebrows pulling up in… sympathy? Empathy? Apology? You can't tell what, only that he looks soft as butter as he says, "I'll call you? We can arrange a time for you to take it back."

"Okay," you agree, much too happy, just as he's pulled out the door by a bloody hand.

-

James doesn't have your number. He realises this in A&E, close to midnight with Remus asleep on one shoulder and Sirius slouched in the other, waiting for the plastics to come and assess if Sirius has done any permanent damage to his finger.

"I don't understand how you can stab yourself in the hand and fuck up your finger," James mutters for what's likely the fifth time.

Sirius sighs unhappily. "It's ligaments or tendons or something. I might very well have cut through a cord that needs to remain uncut."

"You're an idiot."

"Thanks, James."

"Yeah, you're welcome." James slouches a little lower in his chair to take the strain off of his best friend's neck in a show of genuineness. He does love him, after all, even after shocking displays of public stupidity.

"Sorry for cockblocking you," Sirius says.

"Vile. Wasn't gonna turn out that way. Though I was hoping I might actually make a real move tonight. I did make a real move," James shakes his head, disgruntled. "I was seconds away from kissing her. Your idiocy couldn't wait 30 seconds?"

"Wasn't exactly timing it, mate."

"Yeah."

James digs through his pocket for his phone. He never knows where the damn thing is. Your bracelet is tight to his skin and he looks at it with keen longing, imagining your nicely shaped nails running under it.

He shakes it off, goes to unlock his phone, and this is where he realises he doesn't have your number.

"Do you have Y/N's number?" he asks Sirius.

"No." It sounds like why would I?

"Fuck."

"She's Mary's friend, isn't she? Ask Mary."

He sighs and does as he's told, scrolling through contacts until he finds Mary MacDonald's.

Hi mary was wondering if u have Y/N's phone #

And why should I give it to you, Pots? :3 :D <3

pls mary I am not above begging u

While that would be a sight, I meant why do you want it? But please tell me more about the begging part!!! <33

mary

What are your intentions with my Y/N? She's much too sweet for you to manhandle <33

James blushes at her wording and groans aloud. "Girls are impossible."

"Yep," Sirius says tiredly.

James doesn't want his or your business passed around, and if he tells Mary, Mary will tell Dorcas and Dorcas will tell Marlene and Marlene will tell everybody she knows and will find it very, very entertaining as she does. He doesn't plan on awarding her the pleasure. He tells a white lie.

I found her bracelet and want to give it back :]

I'll give it back for you ;) <3

not that I don't trust u M but its super nice, id prefer to give it in person myself

OK OK I'll stop yanking your chain now Jamesie dearest hahaha. Her number is +44 XXXX XXXXXX. I trust the bracelet gets back to her in one piece. btdub, how's siri? <3

crying and shaking like a lamb, thanks m xoxo

He adds your number to his contacts and then stares at it until the nurse calls for Sirius and they get up to meet her, leaving Remus to blink awake confused at their departure.

-

hi Y/N, this is James

You look down at your rarely used phone and feel a warmth like sunshine unfold in your tummy. You don't use any emoticons, though you want to.

Hi James, how are you? How is your friend?

im amazing how r u? doctors are hopeful that he'll live, but it's up to him now :,(

James

kidding. he is fine. R u busy right now?

no I'm not busy why?

can I call u?

You call him rather than answer. He picks up straight away.

"James," you say quietly.

"Sweetheart," he says back. "Hey, hi. I had to get your number from Mary Magdalene."

"Wow, what was she like?"

"Uh… bloody? Which one was she?"

"I don't know, James," you say, laughing behind your hand.

"What are you doing today?" he asks.

You preen though he can't see. "Nuthin," you say, pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth. "Why'd you ask?"

"Trapped you there, baby. Don't you know you're supposed to wait until after I tell you what I'm planning before you say you're not busy?"

"Oh, weird. Something just came up."

"Uh-huh. Anyways, busy or not, if you want to: I've got a match later. If you want to come." He sounds nervous. It's a new look on him.

"Do I get to sit pretty on the sidelines with the other girls?"

"You can stand, if you like. But yeah, otherwise. Oh, unless you have some kicks. I doubt it would take much convincing to get you on the team."

"How's that?"

"Well, you know. They aren't blind. Dumb, sure, but we play rugby. Not exactly a honeypot of intelligence, all it would take for half those guys is your pretty smile-"

"You're plenty smart," you cut off his compliments.

James gags. "Keep it to yourself. It starts at six, but come whenever. Oh- do you need me to pick you up?"

"No, that's okay. I'll walk. It's warm out."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. It'll be nice. I'll wear team colours." You're almost afraid to suggest it until he makes a very happy noise that he coughs to hide two seconds too late.

"See you at six, then?"

"Definitely. You owe me a bracelet."

"It's a date." He hangs up before you can say goodbye. Good thing, because you spend the next ten minutes with your face in your hands, smiling so wide your cheeks ache.

It doesn't quite feel like a date on the sidelines but you're too busy walking on sunshine to care. You watch as James throws the ball behind him, torso twisting, bulky arms flexing. His shorts and socks are stained green and his shirt grips tight to his chest.

You can see why he wanted a haircut; ink dark hair falls in his eyes as he sprints after the team and he has no hands to tuck it back.

You'd been a little late, trying too hard to look effortlessly radiant at home and forgetting the time. As soon as you'd arrived, out of breath and half-dressed, you stood at the side of the pitch close to watchers but maintaining a small gap trying desperately to catch his eye. It was obvious when he saw you - he smiled beatifically and raised a wide palm in greeting before getting into position for a scrum.

After a while there's a halftime break where he comes bouncing off the field to your side. He goes straight in for a hug, brave, warm, exactly what you wanted, arms around your waist and lifting you off the ground half an inch with the force of it.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pretend it's all an inconvenience, wobbling on tiptoes. "You're getting grass all over me."

"Oh no," he says, faux worried.

He smells like so many things. Deodorant and sweat, grass and dirt and salt. You press your nose into his hair and smell the almond oil there with a lopsided smile.

He lets you down, holding you at arms length.

"You're so fucking pretty."

You try not to burst into tears, turning your face so he can see the heart on your cheek made up of glitter in his team colours. "It's the team rep."

"No, it isn't," he says, running his hand down your face to straighten your head, pausing with his fingers under your chin.

Your bracelet is still on his wrist. You can't find it in yourself to be embarrassed at the lovesickness you're feeling.

You push his hair from his face. He, reminded of this affliction, levels you with a squinting glare. "This is all your fault."

"Sorry, Jamie," you say, biting back a guilty smile.

"It's fine," he concedes immediately. You're suddenly overwhelmed by the power you have over this poor boy.

"How long is the break?"

"Halftime? About ten minutes left."

You nod, thinking to yourself. "Well, um. You can say no, but. I can plait your hair back, if you want. Out of your eyes."

"You can?" he asks, brightening.

"Yeah, I can."

James sits on the bottom bench of the stand and you stand behind him, your fingers raking through his windblown curls in lieu of a comb. He sits strangely still, more controlled than you thought possible of him as you braid back the longest strands at the front of his scalp, sliding your fingers through his hair as kindly as you can. The small intimacy of it all has your heart racing.

Securing the dark braid with a bobble, you take in the back of his head. His soft shiny hair is oil black in the sun, his skin painted with gold. His neck begs to be kissed.

You rub your hands down the back of his neck, across the curves of his trap muscles and then down his chest, leaning on him so you can press your lips to the highest point of his cheek in a shy kiss. He tilts his head to catch your eye as you pull back.

"Done?" he asks, something indistinguishable in his voice.

"Done," you confirm.

His face is close enough to spot the beauty mark adjacent to his cupid's bow. You resist the urge to kiss that, too, and stand at full height. He copies you. You find that the stands underneath you makes you taller, his eyes are level with yours.

"How's it look?"

"I did alright," you say modestly. "Though maybe a haircut isn't the worst idea."

He laughs and looks down, reaching for your hands. He's different without his glasses, not more or less handsome, but different. The focus of his face changes, and you find yourself distracted by his eyes, his nose, his mouth.

He holds your hands like a prince, brushing his thumb over your fingernails. Then, in true royal fashion, he brings your hand to his mouth. A kiss pressed to your knuckles. One kiss becomes two, two to three, a peppering of pecks up your hand and over your pulse and up your arm. He reaches your sleeve. His hand follows his mouth until he's holding your elbow in his hand like you're a sacred being, pulling you in.

You drift together. His hands cup your upper arms and guide you slowly to the left as he ducks in.

A piercing whistle leaps through the air. You flinch apart like guilty kids, his hands a searing heat through your shirt sleeves as the call for halftime's end rings. Loudly.

He grimaces bitterly. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I don't know why this keeps happening to us, I'm-"

"Going to get in trouble," you finish, peeling his hands off of your body. "Go on, before they get mad."

"Your bracelet-"

"Keep it. It looks good on you, anyways."

He leans in and holds you by the neck. Your heart is a hammering racket for no reason - all he does is peck your forehead, quick and firm. Then he pulls back all sorry looking and scrambles over the bench and the kit to get back into position.

You sit down heavily on the cold metal seat behind you and cover your chest with your hands, taking deep breaths through your nose.

He catches your eye from the pitch and winks.

-

"Be thankful it was your mouth and not your nose."

"Explain what you mean," James demands, wincing at his split lip.

You match his stride. James, having been hit in the face with the rugby ball hard enough to bruise and cut his top lip, had refused to let you look at him, despite the horror it had provoked, and then had refused to let you walk home alone. I'm not getting in your car until you see a doctor, James, I mean it.

Fine, then we'll walk.

So you walk. The sun is setting, the sky a mix of white-pink and light blue, a bleeding yellow light throwing big shadows every which way. You step out of the shade of a towering, green leafed tree where the main road began. Before James can stop you, you jump up onto the small metal barrier that stops cars from driving on the pavement and walk across it like a balance beam.

"Please don't," James says.

You ignore him, using your arms to stop yourself from toppling into the road. A small revenge considering he had ignored your medical advice. James lets you do this for around 10 seconds before he grabs your hand in his. You wobble along the last meter of barrier with your joined hands held aloft and tight before you finally let him pull you back down onto the pavement, giggling breathlessly. Cars careen past, each one wafting a breeze of petrol and fallen leaves towards your legs.

Fingers interlocked, you walk. You take in the relative beauty of your town in its approaching dusk, meandering past roundabouts and roads, back gardens and a corner shop.

You persuade James inside the shop and beeline for the cold drinks at the back. The open fridges cool your clammy skin.

"What one do you want?" you ask him.

"Anything. Whatever you're having."

You grab three identical cans and ignore his raised eyebrows as you bring them to the front of the store, the cashier hidden behind lollipop stands, magazines, a plastic shield plastered in leaflets for upcoming events. There's a small TV in the corner blaring summer music that you can't help but hum as you emerge from the shop, swaying your hips in time.

"Who's the third for?" James asks, accepting his can. You tuck your own in your bag and grin.

"You! For your lip," you say. "It's swollen."

"Doesn't hurt."

"Don't believe you."

He reluctantly takes the can from you and complains loudly, exasperated at having two full hands, one pressed to his face. You wiggle your empty one at him in bad sportsmanship. Before long you're standing outside your home and James is hesitating.

"Do you want to come in?" you ask, half-hopeful.

He shakes his head. "I can't, I have to take Sirius to get his hand looked at again by plastics."

"Too bad," you murmur, looking at his chest and then his face. "Thank you for walking me. I know it's out of the way."

"You're never out of the way," he says seriously.

You slide your fingers into the loose hair behind his neck, rub your thumb across the line of his jaw.

"Get home safe," you murmur as you lift up on your toes, shoes creasing. You press a half-open kiss to his jaw where your thumb had been moments before and close your lips over his skin slowly. You linger, pressing a second on top.

There's an unspoken acknowledgement between you both when you pull away. A promise.

He looks a picture of defeat walking down your front path. Covered in dirt and grass and sweat and blood, hair messy and chased by the last rays of sun. You watch until he's at the end of your street, butterflies thrashing in your tummy as he presses his index and middle finger to where you'd laid your kisses, as though checking his pulse.

-

James' parents own a restaurant. He knows, in his right mind, that this is a lame place to take you on a proper first date, only it's the hottest week of the year and everywhere else with outdoor seating is fully booked.

"I don't mind, James. Actually, I'm excited. I've never seen Sirius in a uniform," you say.

He scowls and scoffs melodramatically over the phone until you apologise to him for your terrible, awful, sick joke.

Technically, the Potter's restaurant is fully booked too, and he watches the books like a hawk for a week while his lip heals until he catches a cancellation. He instantly jots down his name. He's caught in the act by Euphemia.

"James," his mum had said, words drawn out. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

So really, he isn't sure why he thinks this date will go well. Everybody who works here knows him, and even as he waits outside for you under the dark wood porch a server comes up to him and nudges him with his elbow emphatically.

You turn the corner and he stops breathing, a vision in your sundress and sandals. He watches your anklets dance as you approach, eyes roving up your body devotedly until he finds a smile that matches his own in tenacity playing on your glossy lips.

He wants to kiss you then but wants more to foster a perfect, romantic evening first, so he's careful as he brings his hands up to your face appreciatively. Your hands hook around his elbows, an excited glaze in your eyes.

"Hi, pretty girl."

"Hi," you say, hushed by shyness.

He caresses your cheeks lightly, worried about smudging your makeup. Your eyes close when his hands move up, sliding over your hair to rest behind your ears. Sparkly earrings hang from each earlobe.

"You look beautiful," he says, because fuck it if James hasn't got game.

Your smile turns pouting at his words. He wants to record your voice and play it back when you say, "Thank you, James," in the softest tone he's ever heard from you.

He wants to stay like this. He swears he could happily stand in this bubble of the world with you and count your eyelashes, memorise the flecks of colour that surround your pupil, but you shimmy out of his hands and prompt him inside.

"Come on, handsome, I'm hungry." And then, inside the restaurant. "Oh my god. It smells amazing. What smells amazing?"

He has no clue. He's reluctant to go to the bar with you only because he knows exactly who stands behind it - Sirius, in his neat uniform, a towel thrown over his shoulder and a bandage wrapped around his hand.

He's well-behaved when he sees you, though a few things he says has James reaching to wring his neck.

"How's your hand?" you ask.

Sirius sets down James' pint and grabs for another glass, shovelling ice and pouring juice. "It's alright. The bandage is for health and safety, not because it's actually injured anymore."

"Plastics said he's fine," James interjects, raising the dark ale to his lips.

"Perfect," Sirius amends cooly, "is what they said. Head to toe."

James corrals you out onto the mezzanine before you can fall in love with the uppity bartender.

It gets worse from there. A server who's known James since he was in nappies takes your orders, an extremely handsome server with a deep dusky voice and black skin so smooth he's practically carved from stone.

"And what's for you, babygirl?" he asks after airing out every embarrassing thing James has ever done on restaurant grounds.

You're still laughing, but you turn to James with all the confidence in the world as you ask, "What do I get, James?"

He feels a little better after that.

The patio is perfect. The sun's out, the breeze is light. Every now and then he has a hint of your smell, sunscreen and perfume. Your leg bounces under the table, a tinkling sound of silver, and you lean forward. He doesn't look at your chest where the necklace hanging over your collar bones disappears, thank you very much, but you're so obviously perfect and he's attracted to everything - your body and your gorgeous face, yes, undeniably, but your voice! Your laugh, your smell, the way your hands move. The way your every word about him drips adoration. The pride in your tone as you recall what should've been his perfect match (if he hadn't been hit in the face).

After a lazy dinner and a second round of drinks he's buzzing and you're lovely, like a flower, bloomed and prettier than anything he's ever seen.

You leave the table and walk along the woodchip path and kids play area to look out over the lake, a dark shimmering sheet split in half by twisting white light, the sun falling from the sky.

The evening grows marginally colder, especially at the lakefront. At the first sign of discomfort he works his arm over your back, hand pressed to the dip of your shoulder

He's waiting for you to look at him before he kisses you.

"It's so pretty," you sigh happily.

Across the lake is a backdrop of green trees and a small, rustic boathouse. A family of ducks swim past, shepherded by a squawking swan.

"Bully," he mutters.

You hum. "Why is there only ever one nasty swan per lake?"

"Gotta fill their quota."

"The poor duckies," you sympathise. "Look, there's one of the fancy ones with a green head over there."

He follows your finger but gets distracted by the bracelets adorning your wrist, can't help but think about how you'd asked him to take them off.

"James, this is… it's really perfect. It's amazing."

He pulls you in a little closer. "I'm glad," he says, though he's finding it hard to respond - he can barely open his mouth. "I wanted it to be."

You finally turn to face him. He guesses his change in tone is what does it, because you sound similarly low and love-sticky when you murmur back, "Everything. It's all been so perfect. Everything with you."

He can't take it. He darts forward, so close to kissing you that the air between you is charged with it. When his nose grazes yours he gives pause, tries to work out what you're thinking as your tongue wets your lips.

Your eyes are closed. He shuts his own and-

"James! James Fleamont Potter! You come up here and help your mam!" his father's voice calls.

He drops his forehead against yours and lets out a pained exhale.

"Dad," he calls back, refusing to move. "I'm a little preoccupied."

"What? James, look, I don't have my glasses and your mother needs someone to write tomorrow's daily special!"

He pulls away from you and sends a heated look over his shoulder, one he's sure could melt metal and that his father can't even see. "And tomorrow's daily special, this couldn't wait until TOMORROW?"

"James, I've no clue what's turned you into such a sour puss tonight and I don't have time to work it out. All I'm asking is that you do this chalkboard for us and then you can get back to-"

"Dad! Dad! Alright, I'm coming!" he hollers back, cutting his father off before he can blow a gasket. "Jesus Christ," he says under his breath, defeated. You frown sympathetically at his embarrassment.

"You should probably go help your parents," you say, sounding similarly disappointed. He nods, unwilling.

"Just, don't move," he pleads.

You smile, total understanding on your face, and he's only taken a few steps from you when you turn back to the lake and your shoulders fall.

Fuck it, he thinks.

He turns your body with his palm on your shoulder and soothes your surprised flinch with a hand on your neck, your eyes meeting for a startled, excited handful of seconds before he's finally, finally, surging forward. You gasp into his mouth and his fingers tighten on your neck, lips aligned with your lips and searching deeper, parting to invite you in. You follow, a dance, a hand pulling you out of the road, a tether, and you taste like everything he's ever thought you might all at once.

You press your spread fingers over the fine material of his dress shirt and moan when he catches your top lip between his. He kisses, again and again, feels you slip through his hands like water. He hooks his arm around your head to keep you in place as he wades into you, slowing, softening, pulling away to plant one, two, three gentle kisses over it all like a balm. You respond to each one amorously. His chest rears to explode at your dizzy, pretty panting when it's over.

He loosens his arm to pull back and take in your entire face. Your eyes are shimmering, lips wet. He wipes his thumb over your bottom lip, finds it burning hot.

"Oh," you whisper.

"Oh?" he asks, endeared and amused and insanely happy.

"I didn't think it would feel so different to all the little kisses from before."

"Good different?" he asks, the damp pad of his thumb smoothing over the warm hill of your cheek, stolen bracelet scraping your skin.

Any anxiety he has unfurls and dissipates into nothing when you smile and lean in for a second kiss. "Good different," you confirm against his open mouth, "everything with you…"

He pulls you as close as any person can be to another person. He has a pretty good picture of what you were going to say, anyways.

<3

my masterlist

marauders tag list @marimorena06 @glimmering-darling-dolly @siriuslystfu @thatblackravenclaw @thatonecomfyjumper @lupinlust @touchdeprivedwh0re @vi0letblu3s @mooncalvin @gaysnowrose @set-myself-on-fire @decafcoffew

I Think He Knows

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: Your boyfriend promises to watch over you when you want to get drunk.

Genre: SMUT-ish

Warnings: innocent!reader, intoxication, swearing, grinding on someone's thigh, mentions of sex (no actual sex considering reader is drunk), praise kink

Just as you extend your arm to knock, James slides in front of you and gently holds under your elbow. He's smiling at you fondly as he caresses soothing circles across your skin.

"I want you to know, love, just because we mentioned it doesn't mean you have to, hmm?" he reminds you, his voice low and husky.

You smile and nod your head, letting him wrap an arm around your waist, "I know, Jamie," you reassure him. James looks at you in such a way you know he understands and he settles into your side. He turns around when you knock, his arm still holding you close, and when the door swings open to reveal an already flushed Sirius Black, your boyfriend smirks.

"Prongsie!" Sirius cries happily, pulling James in by his collar and trapping him in a hug. James has released his arm from around you in anticipation of Sirius's gesture and you giggle, walking into the house behind them.

Sirius looks at you next. "Y/n!" he cries, "Your lovely lady looks as lovely as ever, Jamsey," he skips over and takes your hand in his, twirling you around. You can smell the faint cherry vodka on his breath as he holds up your hand and clumsily swipes a thumb along your knuckles. "Still no ring?" Sirius whines with a light-hearted pout.

James pulls you away gently, his cheeks blushed pink. "Alright, enough. Hands off my girl," he reprimands, holding you close as he presses a kiss to your temple. He's holding your hand almost possessively, but you don't mind.

"I keep wondering that myself, Siri," you join in the teasing and send James a smile.

The latter rolls his eyes but smirks as he helps you out of your winter coat. He hangs it up next to his own and then places his hand on your lower back so he can guide you around. It's a common gesture James doesn't even realize he's doing anymore.

Sirius and Remus's house isn't small, but it isn't big either. It's normally sized with dark brick walls and ivy near the upper windows. Inside, the fire is burning and the smell of cookies and wine is in the air.

Lily, Dorcas, and Marlene occupy the couch as they play a game of friendly poker with Frank and Alice. Remus, when he sees you all, stands up from his armchair and smiles widely.

"Y/n/n," he says as if he hasn't seen you in years. Which is a dramatic exaggeration.

Remus pulls you into a warm hug, which means you aren't next to James anymore and he pouts, "Why is everyone suddenly in love with my girlfriend?" he whines.

Remus chuckles and kisses your cheek, "Because she's just so lovely, James," he kisses your cheek again and you giggle. "Plus, you've been hiding her from us for weeks now. I'm starting to think you're doing it on purpose."

James shakes his head with a low chuckle, his hand finding yours. "It's not my fault she's been busy."

"You guys do realize I am standing right here, yeah?" you interrupt with a chuckle. Remus looks at you fondly. He nods and then hurries you and James over to the couch where your friends are.

Always the gentleman, James crosses his legs and sits on the floor while you squeeze in between Lily and Marlene, sending them smiles.

A few moments later Sirius emerges with two glasses of white wine. He grins and hands one to James before handing you yours. Instantly, your eyes flicker to James as you take the glass and look at the liquid.

He sends you a reassuring nod. Even in school, you tended to stay away from alcohol because you were scared. Scared of losing control. But, now that you're with James and you feel safe around him. You had brought it up a few days ago: that you wanted to try. James had promised to watch you, to make sure you don't drink too much or do anything stupid.

So, you put the glass to your lips.

Three drinks in and you don't feel drunk.

Rather, you feel completely normal – well almost normal as you seem to have a hard time keeping your eyes away from your boyfriend's hands. You tend to play with the hem of your dress in your lap and you're still sitting in between Lily, and now Sirius as he drunkenly animates his sentences.

James is still sitting on the floor, his arms draped across his knees as he crosses his ankles. From time to time, he'll look up at you and his eyebrows will scrunch as if to ask if you're okay. Your cheeks start to feel hot and you fumble with your hands to press them on your face. You squirm around, feeling pressure in your core as you bite down on your lip.

"Y/n," James's voice is hoarse and you look up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Come here, dove," he whispers.

When you stand, you stumble to James and gasp when he pulls you down onto his lap. You hold onto him, looking into his eyes as his hand finds your thigh just shy from your ass. James frowns as he sees your expression but then his lips curl into a smirk.

Clumsily, he makes a show of standing as you cling onto him. Your friends don't seem preoccupied by you and James as he gently guides you into Remus and Sirius's small bathroom in the hallway. You lean against the sink, looking up at James and mumble, "W-What?"

James's knuckles caress down your cheek as he chuckles. "Hey, are you okay?"

You blink at him, trying to focus on something other than the heat from his strong body against yours. You hum, nodding. James's palm presses against your cheek first and then moves to your forehead. He frowns. "You're warm. 'You sure you're okay?" he asks with concern.

Your breathing becomes harsher as you stare at him. "O-oh- yeah. I'm g-good," you try to sound as normal as you can although his touch ignites a fire inside you.

James's frown deepens, looking you over. When you bite your lip, his eyebrow raises and the corner of his mouth slips upwards. He knows your signs all too well by now.

James slides his knee in between your legs, a soft gasp escaping your lips as your skirt rides up your thighs a little further. The coarse fabric of his jeans hits your cotton panties and your hands grip the sink harder. You look up at him, your eyes lidded. "J-Jamie?"

His hand slides up your cheek, tilting his head as he presses a sloppy kiss behind your ear. "Shh, it's okay. I'm here. I won't allow anything bad to happen to you, my lovely," he lifts his knee slightly and a shiver runs up your arms.

You clutch his shirt, your mind already starting to go fuzzy. You can't tell if you're just drunk or incredibly horny – perhaps you're both? All you know if you want James's touch. You want his lips, his hands, his cock. James's knee rubbing against your pussy interrupts your dirty fantasies as you sigh.

"I'm not gonna do all the work," James mutters and pauses his movements.

"More," You whisper, staring at him needily and James chuckles quietly.

"Shhh, my baby's simply a little too drunk for that," his voice is smooth and stern as he kisses the side of your lips, "I'm not gonna do that, lovie. I'm sorry. But, if you wanna get off on my trousers then who am I to deny you?" he quips with a knowing smile.

As if simply needing his permission, you roll your hips onto him and let out a loud moan. James covers your mouth with his hand, stroking your skin as you buck against him desperately. You're dripping and seeping through your panties to soak his jeans with your juices. You can't stop your soft, drunken, moans as you rub your sensitive clit against him.

"Good girl," James whispers encouragements, occasionally moving his knee to apply more pressure, "My good girl, aren't you? So needy when you're drunk, hmm?" he hums with a smile.

You nod, cheeks burning as your movements become even more desperate. It feels so good. He's making you feel so good and he knows it. James leans in and rests his hand behind your ear as he delicately kisses your head. He can tell you're close and he whispers sweet nothings in your ear as your mind goes fuzzy and your skin prickles with desire.

Your mouth opens only no sound comes out when you rut against him harder. James grins, enjoying having you so completely undone in front of him. You hold onto his sleeve, squeezing your thighs around his and tears of pleasure brim your lashes. James coos, "Aw, don't cry, sweetheart. What's the matter?" he teases and strokes his thumb across your cheek.

"I- I need more," you whimper, trying desperately to reach your high.

"I can't let you have more, lovie," James says quietly. He doesn't want to risk crossing any boundaries when you're drunk.

Still, he grips your hips and rocks them over his thigh, helping you. "Here, just let go for me. It's okay, I'll take care of you later I promise." You whine and lean your head on his chest as your pussy throbs.

You feel light-headed when you finally come, your juices soaking your panties and James's jeans. He kisses your forehead when you look up at him, eyes lidded. "Good girl, you did so good," he whispers, stroking a hand in your hair as you catch your breath.

James lifts you effortlessly onto the sink and you automatically spread your legs. You watch him as he bends over and rolls up some toilet paper in his hand.

He then hands it to you, "Clean yourself up, dove?"

You look at him innocently, silently asking him to be the one to clean you. James hesitates and bites his lip. Quickly, he dips his hand into your panties and collects your cum on the paper. He bunches it up and throws it in the toilet. He rolls up some more and wipes his jeans a little.

Finally, he flushes the evidence and kisses your lips. You squirm a little, uncomfortable from the wetness in your panties. James looks down and smirks.

He starts to slide your panties down your hips and looks at you for consent. You nod, staring at him. You're still in a haze from the liquor but you trust James. He slides your panties into his jeans pocket and smoothes your skirt. He sees your adorable frown, "No one will know, I promise," he assures you.

When you leave the bathroom, the hallway seems darker. James's hand rests on your ass, keeping your skirt down as you focus on not tripping. You don't realize how giddy and stupid you and James looks until you both enter the living room again and your friends turn to stare. Lily, Remus, and Marlene seem to compose themselves as they smirk behind their hands, but Sirius, in his drunken state, seems completely appalled.

"You did not just fuck in my bathroom, Potter!" he exclaimed. Laughs escape the others and you must look completely embarrassed because their smiles widen. James gently and playfully covers your ears as his voice strains to hide his amusement.

"Shut up," he chuckles and then kisses your temple, "we did no such thing, did we, lovie?"

You nod your head. You wonder if your panties are burning a hole in James's trousers just like your bareness is causing a burning in your stomach. James hands moves to your back as he caresses you comfortingly.

"So, why did you come out of the bathroom together?" Marlene interrupts and adds to the teasing, "Don't tell me Y/n needed help peeing?"

James sends her a glare and moves you through the living room and to the door. "It's late, I'm tired," he tries to take the attention off you, "I think it's time for us to drive home."

He drapes your coat over your shoulders and you're grateful he's taking you home. The neediness has been replaced by pure exhaustion and you grip his arm. James puts on his own coat and opens the door. He whispers to you, "Shh, you're safe with me," and kisses you again.

You both say your goodbye's and Sirius calls out one last time, "If I find any evidence you fucked in my bathroom, I'll personally kill you, James Potter," James pauses, knowing he's not finished and smirks when he hears Sirius's last comment.

"Shame on you for roping poor, innocent Y/n into your disgusting activities. And in my bathroom — "

"Sirius," You hear Remus warn, exhausted.

James holds your hand and starts to shut the door behind you,

"Next time, Remus and I will fuck in your bathroom!"

"Sirius!"

i love this

james potter x reader drabbles (+ = 18+ only)

if you want to scroll through all of my james potter x reader fics from newest to oldest. NOTE this link works on desktop, and on IOS, but doesn't work on android mobile. It used to, but I think it's a tumblr glitch.

james take care of you when you’re drunk at a party

james takes care of you, again, drunk at a party

james comes to rescue you after you call him (drunk)

james gets drunk and you look after him for a change

james tries to make a romantic gesture for you, his tired girlfriend

james enjoys some from domestic bliss

james is the sunshine to your rain

james is in love at first sight

james draws a picture and you finally get it

james comforts you after baking gone wrong

james leaves for a trip

james comes back from the trip

james puts his fingers in your mouth

james puts his fingers in your mouth (the prequel)

james and your baby make breakfast

james helps scare off a creep

james potter and the forbidden lakehouse romance

james supports you during chronic pain

james will always stick up for you

james is your flirty bodyguard

james is your angry but soft bodyguard

bodyguard!james comes to rescue you

james tends to a small cut

james loves to talk

james loves to touch you

james loves you for you no matter how shy

james kisses you out of love and not for something more

james thinks you look familiar

james would never cheat on you

james doesn’t like to see you sad or hungry for touch

james reacts to you flinching during an argument

james is hungry for your touch though he won’t say

james can’t clean an oven but he can kiss

james gets comfort after losing a match

james comforts you when you’re anxious

james hates your awful friends

james dotes on his introvert gf at a party

james helps you sleep

james comforts you about strawberry legs

drummer!james is nervous before a show

james doesn’t want you to cry alone

james does laundry and misses you after an argument

james cuddles you in the early morning

james gets breakfast in bed

james makes you cry for the first time +

james warms you up after a shower +

james finds you doing laundry in a state of undress +

james takes your trousers off +

james messes with you at the office +

james ravishes you after time apart +

james teases you for your tenacity +

james likes being called jamie +

im so dead oewudqwbdqw THIS IS ADORABLE

miss jade your bodyguard!james example hit me right in the chest.. can I get candy apples and do you wanna dance? with a bodyguard!james au?? Where you’re dying for a sleepover with your girlfriends but he’s gotta sit in there with you and he totally gets into it gossiping and painting nails and doing face masks and making friendship bracelets? I yearn for big buff scary babygirl James and his shy little charge :’)) - happy Halloween !!!!!!! 🧡🖤

join luveline's halloween party ♡

mei my angel my literal everything best idea ever and I had to include what we talked about too, tysm for ur request baby happy halloween ♡ bodyguard!james x shy!fem!reader (also tipsy!reader)

You really hadn't wanted to bring it up but at the same time, you'd felt like you had to. James had assured you to do whatever it is that's going to make you most comfortable, even if what makes you most comfortable is actually making your new friends most comfortable.

"He... He has to come, but James doesn't mind sitting in the adjoining room. I'm sorry," you'd said.

Mindy, a friend you'd miraculously managed to make at the supermarket of all places, had given your bodyguard a once over with a huge smile. "Are you kidding? He's welcome to sit wherever he likes. He's very welcome."

You'd felt a flicker of something. Not jealousy. A general wash of embarrassment at the implication that James is, rightfully, eye-candy.

"Are you wearing aftershave?" you ask now, not a question you would usually have the courage to ask. You're shocked.

"Cologne, actually," James says.

You gawp at him.

James looks both lovely and ridiculous. He's bedecked in smart clothes, his casual civilian clothing, and it's enough to make your heart skip a beat. Tight sleeves, tight pants. He's a classic handsome on a bad day. Tonight, he's breathtaking.

Especially carrying your pink backpack.

You like how much he doesn't care about stuff like this. Your backpack thrown over his shoulder, your coat in the crook of his elbow. None of it is his job, the only thing he really has to do is stop you from getting maimed or killed, but he does it anyways.

"It's nice," you say awkwardly. What you'd wanted to say was worse. Are you wearing cologne to impress Mindy?

His smile is horrifyingly smug. "Thank you, princess. Think you should knock again?"

You knock again, your hand barely pulled from the door when it swings open.

"Hi," Mindy says, smiling as soon as she sees you.

It's such a nice thing, for your presence to make somebody smile like that, and you find yourself smiling back without any of your usual shyness.

"And hello," she adds, sizing James up with a light-hearted expression of dizziness. "Did you get more handsome, Mr. Bodyguard?"

James hand touches between your shoulders. "Maybe slightly."

Mindy laughs gleefully. "Maybe so. Please, come in. We were waiting on your before we start Dirty Dancing."

You beam. Mindy shows you and James into the living room of her home where the rest of your new friends wait. They're all just as excited to see you as you are to see them, greeting you with hugs and smiles. They say hello to James too, which is really nice. James doesn't mind, but sometimes people act as if he's not there. It's my job to sink into the background, he'd placated once.

Still, you don't like when people ignore him. This spells good tidings.

You're in very nice but comfy clothes, soft loose trousers and a t-shirt that's too big for you, because you'd thought that was what people where to these kinds of things — it's what they wear in all the movies you'd watched to prepare — so you're horrified when you realise they're all dressed in fancy blouses and fine jewellery.

"Sit down," James reminds you gently, putting pressure on your shoulder until you sit.

"Right," you say with a laugh.

"You can sit wherever you like," Mindy says to James.

He tips his head slightly to one side. "I really don't want to intrude on you girls. I can happily stay by the door."

Mindy shakes her head. "No, sir. You can protect your lovely treasure from right here."

James sits beside you.

Mindy is clearly quite wealthy. Her living room is a large space with huge couches and an impressive television bolted high on the wall, Dirty Dancing already queued and waiting to play. Before you know it you've a cocktail in hand and the lights have been turned down low, the movie accompanied by a low level of chatter.

"Patrick," Georgia says dreamily, watching as the main characters dance in the middle of an empty room.

"He's not very handsome-" Milly says.

"What?"

"Let me finish! He's not very handsome in the classical way, is he? But his demeanour is what makes him so yummy."

You huff under your breath, a laugh you can't contain as they descend into a debate on all his pros and cons.

"He's more handsome because he can dance. It's his charisma."

"What does Y/N think?" Mindy asks, turning to you eagerly. You almost choke on your sip of cosmopolitan, face growing warm under their expectant gazes.

It's not entirely their fault. James turns to you to, you can feel his thigh pressed closer to yours. This isn't the kind of thing you and he ever talk about.

"Um, he... Well, I think he's-" Your voice falls to an insecure murmur. "He's not not handsome."

"I don't think he's all that," James says.

The girls roar with laughter. You turn to James to watch him chuckling, a grateful smile on your face.

"Can you dance, James?" Milly asks.

His arms burns where it touches your own. "Not like that," he says.

More laughter. You feel two things at once, and this time you're willing to admit one is some sort of jealousy. He's super funny and you love that about him, you're just not sure if you love everybody else knowing it too. But then, the second feeling, pure affection for him. He deserves droves of girls fawning over him. It makes sense that they're all so charmed.

They all sing the closing song of the movie to each other in dramatic duets. Mindy tries to include you, and then Georgia does too, but singing in front of people isn't something you do. It takes too much courage. You'd have to disregard the embarrassment of being bad, and you're not good at that. Nevertheless it's a great time that makes you laugh until your side hurts, especially when Dahlia and Darcy try to do the dangerous 'lift' dance move.

You dip your head toward James. "You could definitely do that."

He laughs, startled. "Do what, shortcake?"

"The lift."

"Only if you're the one I'm lifting," he bargains.

"Never in a million years," you say, cheeks filled with heat.

They want to do manicures after that. This is two cosmopolitans later, mind you, but you gather around the coffee table with finger dividers, and soon Milly is passing out calming sheet masks she got from the supermarket. You laugh at one another, ghosts in practice, and your laughter gets worse when James agrees to let Milly put one on him. His hair's so thick and curly that he needs to wear a headband to keep it away from his face, a salmon coloured pair of bunny ears.

You're on your fourth cocktail, a long island iced tea, by the time your nails are done, and Georgia has started retelling a story about her last date, how weird the guy had been, and how he had failed spectacularly in the bedroom.

"I mean, I probably should've known there wouldn't be much joy when he showed me his matchbox collection, but I thought he was eclectic, not stupid."

You giggle and lean hard into James side for support, your own face mask starting to slip down your face. He's already peeled his own off, skin shiny and soft, and he reaches out with delicate fingertips to pull yours away too.

"Here," he says, dabbing the excess essence off with a flannel.

"Thanks, Jamie," you say happily.

"Worst date of my life," Georgia finishes, rolling her eyes.

"I can't beat that one!" Darcy says quickly. "I was twenty, and we went to Burger King for dinner. Burger King. I was wearing a little black dress and heels. And when we get back in the car, we were supposed to be going for a film, he leans over the handbrake and starts trying to kiss me and all I could see was a tiny piece of lettuce in his mustache," — you hiccup hard and slap a hand over your mouth, overjoyed by her tortured tone — "I pulled away, obviously. And he grabs my shoulder and said, come on baby, I saw how you were looking at me back there.

Back there. In the Burger King." She rolls her eyes. "You gotta be kidding me."

The girls share their horror stories and you laugh and sigh sympathetically in most of the right places, until you're the only one left who hadn't spoken.

"What about you, Y/N?" Dahlia asks.

"Yeah, what's your nightmare date?"

You stiffen. "I mean... I... I haven't-"

"Come on, it can't be as bad as the guy who spit in my ear," Milly says.

You laugh, because ew, but struggle to come clean without sounding awkward. "I've never been on a date before."

"Oh," Mindy says, sounding not disgusted but let down. She recovers swiftly. "Well, you aren't missing anything, babe."

"Yeah," Darcy placates. "Especially if it's with a guy. No offense."

James raises a hand. "Please, it's fine. I've no delusions when it comes to my sex."

The girls continue to try and comfort you. You hadn't wanted any comfort, and every new reassurance makes you shrink. It's lovely that they're trying to make you feel better, but you feel abruptly inexperienced and ashamed about it.

"I once had a girl break an egg against my forehead," James says.

They all pause.

"On a first date?"

"Yup. She'd brought eggs. In her purse."

They gawp. You gawp. You've never heard this story.

Halfway through a dramatic rehashing his hand finds your calf for a quick squeeze. You realise he's making the whole thing up shortly after and you've never felt more thankful for him. And he once stopped you from getting tasered by grabbing the weapon with his bare hands, so.

"Aren't we a little old for friendship braceletes?" Milly asks, a practically fully-formed chevron bracelet in hand.

You struggle with your beginners bracelet made of four strands. James, beside you, is a natural. Your elbows keep brushing together, and it's a lot.

"Some of us had bad childhoods, Milly."

"Shit," you whisper, your bracelet loop sneaking out from under the masking tape anchoring it to the table for the tenth time in as many minutes.

"You're pulling too hard," James whispers back.

"Everyone's quicker than me!"

Mindy yawns and proclaims to go receive the sleeping bags and air mattresses she'd promised. "Keep working, Y/N! I want that bracelet around my wrist when I get back."

"No problem," you say easily, and then, "James, what do I do? Please help me."

James looks over at your bracelet. You've made knots on the wrong strings, the bracelet more a net than anything. He side eyes the group of girls sitting around him, all putting the finishing touches on their projects, before quietly slipping his bracelet into his lap and swapping it with yours.

"Stick it back on the table and I'll show you," he murmurs covertly.

You stick his bracelet on the table in front of you with some masking tape and James takes charge. He grabs your hands with zero hesitation and shows you how to knot the strings, the 4-shape you need to make and which strings you need to make it on. His hands are very warm, super soft, and when he lets go you feel it like an absence.

"Get it?" he asks.

Kind of. There's an obvious difference in the quality of knots made. James' are all neat and uniform, yours less so, but you chalk it upto rushing and mindy doesn't know any different, hugging you as you tie it around her wrist.

"It's stunning," she proclaims. "Where's yours, Mr Bodyguard?"

He shows your bracelet. "I had some trouble."

There's a little wave of giggles that hurts your feelings, but then Darcy says, "It's alright, James. They're really hard if you've never made them before."

"Yeah, I spent an entire summer in primary school teaching myself. That's a great effort for a beginner!"

"Practice makes perfect, anyways."

James nudges you casually with his elbow. "Thanks, ladies."

Soon, the room is enveloped by the rushing sound of the electric air pump blowing up air mattresses. They're sandwiched together, and even with Darcy on the couch and Mindy in her own bed there's no enough room.

"I'm so sorry," she says, "I didn't think about where he'd sleep."

"Technically, I won't really be sleeping," James says.

Your heart is thudding painfully against your ribcage. "Uh, well," — you're so desperate to seem cool and not cause any problems that you blurt without thinking — "it's fine, James doesn't mind sharing with me." You look up into his dazzling, sun-kissed face. "Do you?"

A flicker of surprise clouds his features. He hides it. "No, of course I don't mind."

The time approached half-twelve quickly. James is off shift at 1AM, and while he might usually go home he's already told you he'll be staying the night. He hates when you're in unfamiliar places. You don't complain, though when it's dark and everyone is drunkenly snoozing in their plastic beds, you sit up in your sleeping bag and search for his figure in the dark.

"James?" you murmur.

"What, sweetheart?"

"Is y'shift over?"

"Yeah. Mason's just pulled up outside." Mason means Jack and Jack means the night team. You roll your eyes at how ridiculously looked after you are.

"Do you want to come and sleep? You must be tired," you continue, your own voice dulcet with an obvious fatigue.

James picks his way over to you where you're nestled in your pyjamas and sleeping bag. "I can go kip in the van, if it makes you uncomfortable."

Is he kidding? He's just spent the night not only looking after you but making sure time and time again that you didn't look stupid in front of your new friends. He might be the nicest boy you've ever met, and the last thing you want him to do after all of this is go sleep sitting up in the back of a van.

"Are you crazy?" you mumble, unzipping your sleeping bag to entice him in. "S'cold in here. Your nose would get frost bite out there."

"Poor night team," he laments agreeably.

The air matress lifts you up with James' added weight. He makes his way under the unzipped sleeping back and has to cling to your hip to stop himself from falling off. You frown at his scratchy clothes.

"Did you bring pajamas?" you ask.

"No offense, shortcake, but no. Obviously I did not."

Your sleep (and cocktail) addled brain doesn't have the energy to feel offended. "Y'gonna be uncomfortable."

He doesn't speak. You assume he's done talking for the night and curl your leg up toward his thigh, when he says, "You won't mind if I take my shirt off? The fancy labels are really itchy."

"No, fancy-pants, I won't mind."

Even in your state you can feel the nervousness of being so close to him after he's peeled off his shirt. He's a huge hot water bottle beside you and you face toward him, cold but miles too shy to make a move.

It's like he can read your mind. "Are you still cold?" he asks, pulling the sleeping bag up to your chin.

"A little. My nose is cold," you murmur, eyes feeling heavier by the second.

His hand lands tentatively against your cheek. His thumb rubs against the tip of your nose. "What was it you said about frost bite?"

You genuinely can't remember. His hand is so warm, his body, his touch something you desire badly on a good day and yearn ceaselessly for on your worst. You bracelet his wrist where it rests against your neck and rub over his pulse unthiningly.

"You want a hug?" he asks knowingly.

"Just for a second," you agree. Your dignity shrivels with the speed of your reply.

He laughs under his breath and slides his arm under your shoulders. For a second it's uncomfortable and achy, and then he's pulling the brunt of your weight onto his chest and wrapping arms around you.

You shudder at how warm he is, the heat of his palms over your spine.

You lavish in his hold and steal all of his emanating heat until you're toasty as can be, sleeping bag snug over your limbs and face nestled in the bare skin of James' shoulder.

"Sorry," you mumble.

"For what?"

You're surprised he's still awake.

"For... For being so... I don't know. Because you had to save me so many times."

"Saving you from awkward situations is easy, don't worry about it. And I think you would've done better without me than you realise."

His hand creeps up the nape of your neck.

You're pretty beside yourself, tipsy and tired and tenderised by his tactile touching. He's familiar. More familiar than anything. It feels like a dream to be in his arms. It probably is.

"You're a good girl, Y/N," he says, and it doesn't feel weird at all. He means it honestly. "You're kind. You're caring. People were bound to love you eventually. It took a while, but they do."

"It didn't take you a while."

"Well, I'm smarter than everybody else, you know that," he says.

You both laugh. His hand strokes the side of your face and rests behind your ear. You can't pin point when you fall from dizzy laughter into sleep, but James can.

He watches your face relax in the near-dark, watches your shoulders settle under his hands. The whole while he's thinking God, what am I doing? This isn't professional. This is the opposite of professional.

He tries to ease you off of him and abandons all hope when you turn your face into his chest and your lips touch his skin. Each exhale a warm kiss.

In the morning, he'll likely tease you within an inch of your life. You're shy enough on a normal day that he doubts you'll survive it. But for now, he rubs the length of your back and wonders if this is how you feel when he's standing guard. So, so safe.