#aaron taylor johnson x black reader

[anjaelle]

White Light | Part VIII

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Pairing: Ghost!Aaron Taylor-Johnson x Black!Reader Warnings: DEATH, BLOOD, mentions of drug use. Graphic depiction of death. Word Count: 2.3K Summary: Darkness falls... A/N: Two chapters left.

[Part I] | [Part II] | [Part III] | [Part IV] | [Part V] | [Part VI] | [Part VII] | [Part IX] | [☁Masterpost ☁] | [♫The Crimson Zombies Mixtape ♫]

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When he ran his fingers over the guitar strings, you could see the longing in his eyes and in the clench of his jaw. You knew very little about instruments. You saw it collecting dust in the corner of a thrift shop, lonely and in desperate need of repair, and you took it. You didn't even know if he'd be able to use it. If he could take it to the other side with him when he inevitably left.

None of that mattered to you. You just knew he'd need it. When it came back to you, repaired and good as new, you rushed home to give it to him.

"I know you said you played bass," you rushed to say as he grasped the guitar neck in shaking hands, "But I also remember you saying that you used to play guitar too. At least for a little while. And...yeah..."

"Why?" He asked, softly, cradling the guitar like it was a newborn in his hands.

"I don't know," you admitted, "I just figured I'd--you needed something good. Just for once."

He swallowed hard, and let out a short laugh before running his fingers through his curls and turning away.

"It's so...wow. I mean...Shit."

You fidgeted with your fingers as he took a moment to collect his thoughts, unsure of what to say next. And as he turned to you again, golden hour washed over you both, casting you in a warm glow that made him seem more alive than you'd ever seen him.

"Thank you." His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat then laughed, "I need to re-learn how to play this thing. It's been a while."

You watched the mirth dance across his face and leaned against the windowsill in satisfaction, "Mhm. Because you owe me a song for my troubles. Maybe even two."

In the blink of an eye, he pulled you in for a deep kiss, cradling your face in his warm hands. His thumbs swept across the apples of your cheeks before his hands slipped down to the back of your neck, down your shoulders, your chest, and finally slipping around your waist to pull you in closer. You didn't remember draping your arms around his shoulders, or curling your fingers in his dark curls. Like muscle memory. Like in another life you'd done it a million times.

He pulled away only to pepper your face with more kisses, something you felt like he'd wanted to do for so long by how his hands grabbed your hips.

"I'll write you a library of music." He breathlessly said, kissing you again, "Whatever you want."

─ ·𖥸· ─

You stared at the stained wood floor, numb to the reality of what you've just discovered. It felt like the old, brown stain was growing in width, crawling towards you like you called to it. The ringing in your ears, and the sharp, shallow breaths you took nearly drowned out the sound of the intercom when it rang.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" You asked him, finally forcing yourself to look directly into his face and not at what remained of his body spilled onto the floor. He looked...sick. Pale. Very much dead. And it startled you. How many times had you both walked over this spot. Could he feel it underneath the layers of varnish and paint? If he could, he hid it well. But judging by the way he worked his jaw and avoided eye contact with you, you didn't think he knew any better than you about what the landlord may have done.

You asked again, "Aaron, are you sure you want to do this?"

His eyes flickered over to you, dull and lifeless, before refocusing on the stain, "Yeah."

The intercom rang again and you hesitated before pressing the buzzer to let the visitor in. You could almost hear your heart thrumming in your ears as the footsteps creaked on the staircase and echoed down the hall.

You tried to practice what you'd say when they finally arrived, but you weren't entirely sure if it was worth it to rehearse. After all, you'd probably sound like a crazy person.

It was worth a try.

A heavy knuckle rapped against the door, pulling you from your thoughts as suddenly as you slipped into them. You shot another glance at him, and then dragged yourself to the door. And as your hand hesitated over the doorknob, Aaron cleared his throat behind you.

"Do it. I need to know."

You nodded and took a deep breath before pulling the door open. Danny--Aaron's childhood friend, former bandmate, and one of the last people to see him alive--looked you over with a furrowed brow of concern.

"Shit, love, you look like death."

You felt like death.

You forced a faint smile that instantly fell and you shook your head in an effort to get your thoughts together. What little thoughts you had, anyway.

"I...this isn't going to be easy. I couldn't really tell you over the phone. So thank you for coming."

You took a step back to allow him into your space. He seemed to pause before crossing the threshold. You could imagine it was a surreal experience to be in a place you made so many memories in, so long ago.

"It feels the same. Though you're loads neater than we all were." He chuckled softly to himself, lost in his memories for a moment, "Do you still have that one burner on the stove that you need to kinda rev up to get going?"

You smiled at that. Mildly annoyed that the landlord never bothered to change the kitchen in 20 years but also mildly charmed by the idea that you and your visitor had another thing in common with one another.

"Yeah, I hate it. I try to avoid using it as often as possible."

"We did too," he added wistfully. You could see his eyes starting to water, and he turned away to collect himself. "Is this gonna be a tough chat?"

You wanted to say no. Maybe spare the inevitable pain his close friend would feel in having to relive the night--and the follow up--all over again. But then you glanced over at Aaron standing at the window, still and closed off like an old Gothic statue of a biblical martyr. This wasn't about you. This wasn't even about Danny. You straightened your back and forced the words out.

"I found his blood. On...on the floor. A-and the windowsill." You shakily admitted aloud for the first time. You saw him visibly stiffen at the admission, and his eyes widened.

"Who's blood?"

"Aaron's. I found it."

"He's playing dumb," Aaron suddenly said, beside you, "he knows what happened. Ask him."

You weren't sure if he saw your eyes flicker to the space beside you registering everything the unseen entity was saying.

Danny shoved his hands in his pockets, anxiously, "How do you know it's his?"

You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves, and asked pointedly, "How did he die, Danny? What happened that night?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because he's here." You plainly stated, motioning beside you at the shape he couldn't see.

He gave you a strange look, and sneered at you, "You're sick. You're fucking sick, and this is a terrible thing to do."

Aaron rolled his eyes, "He's so full of shit."

"Fine ask me something only Aaron would know. Since I'm supposedly a liar, it'd be easy to prove wouldn't it?" You calmly asked.

"I'm not entertaining this." He grumbled, turning to leave.

"Tell him that you know he stupidly bought drugs off some guy in an alley in California and accidentally snorted fiberglass and baby powder after the Berkley show. I was the only one that sat in the waiting room for him."

"He did WHAT?" You blurted out.

"What?" He turned again, looking at you like you had three heads. You briefly glanced at Aaron again, who motioned for you to share what he said.

"Um..." you swallowed, slightly disturbed by the new information you were given, "He says you accidentally snorted fiberglass and baby powder after the Berkley show? And that none of your friends waited in the hospital for you but him?"

His eye twitched and you felt like he might yell at you, instead he took a deep breath, "Who told you about that? It was fuckin' Natalia wasn't it?"

For fucks sake.

"I've never even met Talia, but I know she was there that night wasn't she? Come on, help me out here."

He stared at you for an uncomfortably long time.

"Who are you?"

You chose to ignore that question, "I know there was an argument that night, Gavin hit him over the head, and he was dead after that. What. Happened. That. Night?"

Danny sighed and took a step towards you, "You know, I hadn't thought about Gavin in ages. Not until he died, anyway. Overdose. Not surprising, but still sad all the same. We separated on pretty bad terms. He got too big, decided he didn't need us. I make the effort to talk to his kids at least once a week, even though he was a piece of shit in the end. Talia took it hard. But even then, I rarely thought about Gavin."

"From what I heard, he was hard to be around sometimes," you said. Aaron snorted, leaning up against the wall.

Danny quirked a brow at you, "From what you heard?"

"He's in denial," Aaron sighed. "Can't say I blame him. I didn't believe in that crazy ghost shit either. But, y'know, here we are."

Danny glanced in Aaron's direction like he heard him, but you were sure he couldn't have. The younger man pushed himself off the wall and walked up to Danny, circling him in examination. You saw his shoulders visibly tense.

"I told you, Aaron is literally here." You carefully reiterated, motioning to where he was standing.

"What else has he told you?" Danny asked.

"That he was in love with Talia, that Gavin was jealous. Considering how things turned out, I guess he wasn't too far off with that assumption." You tried to hide the hint of shameful jealousy in your voice. "I assumed that's why Gavin killed him."

He said nothing. Aaron sidled up beside you, looking him over suspiciously.

"He's acting weird." He murmured.

"You think Gavin killed him over a girl?" Danny plainly asked.

"I think things like that are sadly very common. Jealousy, drugs, money, love. People will kill for a number of things." You subconsciously found yourself taking a small step back.

The red-headed older man sighed deeply, "I loved Aaron, man. I know I said I didn't think that much about Gavin before he finally fucked off to Hell or wherever he ended up. But I think about Aaron every day. He was the one that taught me how to write sheet music, y'know? I'm still not very good. I try though." He scratched the back of his head. You were having a hard time following the conversation, "We knew we were fucked. The minute it happened--when he stopped moving--we knew...what the fuck were we gonna do? It was so stupid. Just an accident."

"Accidents happen." You carefully whispered, taking another small step back. His eyes caught the movement.

"Accidents do happen. All the time. But our apartment was filled with drugs, we were about to get our biggest break yet, we had so much to lose. I--we loved the guy. We did. But we could always get another bassist."

Your heart sank, "Why would you do that to him? Your own friend?"

"Don't act so self-righteous. Have you ever had anything to lose? Have you ever been desperate?" Danny took a step towards you, "Have you ever been hungry? You do what you need to."

Alarm signals went off in your head, and Aaron appeared behind him, "You need to leave. Now."

It didn't make sense to you, "If it was an accident, why hide it? Why not just admit what happened?"

Your words died in your throat when you noticed how close he was standing to you. Your blood ran ice cold, paralyzing you in fear you'd never felt before. You locked eyes with Aaron over his shoulder as he leaned over you.

"Then again," you whispered, "I could be wrong. It could just be a mistake--"

It felt like you'd been punched in the stomach. You wondered why he would do that to you when he was so much larger than you? When you'd been so nice to him? When you both loved Aaron as much as you did?

Then the pain doubled. You clutched your stomach just as he pulled the blade out, and your hands were covered in blood. You didn't register Aaron screaming for you and pushing Danny into a table across the room, or the sound of breaking wood and glass.

Your knees buckled under you, your vision darkened. You tried to drag yourself across the floor. To what? You weren't sure. You just wanted the pain to stop. You wanted someone to find you and make everything better.

You thought of your grandmother, your friends, and your parents. And as the blurry visage of Aaron appeared in front of you, you started to cry.

"Please, please, please. I don't want to die," you tried to say as your vision blurred.

If he was saying anything you couldn't understand it. You felt yourself struggling to breathe, you tasted blood on your tongue.

This couldn't be it. This couldn't be how you fucking died. You were angry. So angry that you could scream and punch the floor.

And then...

He grabbed you in his arms, and you were falling. Through the floor. Through the veil that separated you from the rest of the world.

Into darkness that enveloped you both.

[aurynsia]

Touch Tank

James Potter x Reader

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Summary: Your friends discover that you and James have finally done the deed…

Warnings: 18+ MATURE THEMES, oneshot, suggestive content, implied intimacy, virgin!james x virgin!reader, teasing, Sirius being Sirius, mild wolfstar content, reader is embarrassed about intimacy, and, of course, James Potter is good in bed.

Word count: 1.4K

Masterist

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James had pleaded for you to stay behind to study at Hogwarts during this week’s Hogsmeade trip, claiming he couldn’t pass his next exam without his pretty girlfriend by his side. You began working at James’ desk before moving to his floor…then to his bed.

He stared at you with pure longing as you transcribed notes from your textbook, his touch was soft against your shoulders as he kissed your skin. His attention had completely abandoned his own notes long ago, preferring to cover you in gentle kisses pressed to your back.

You couldn’t pretend to focus on your textbook any longer, closing it softly before sending it to the dorm room floor. You turned to face your breathless boyfriend, silently begging you with his big brown eyes.

The make out session that followed was more passionate than any other you two had shared, James gripping at your skin as he rocked his hips into yours.

“We can stop here if you want to,” he muttered breathlessly during a short break. The corners of your lips threatened to tilt into a flirtatious smirk as you softly pushed him backwards. James’ growing desperation was obvious, the boy grinning at you while flipping your bodies over, resting on top of you and making you squeal as his lips traveled down your exposed skin.

The events that followed left you naked and panting beneath his sheets, gazing up at the ceiling in a daze as your boyfriend nuzzled into your neck with a satisfied groan and a beaming smile.

He clutched your sides protectively, sighing as he pulled back to gaze at your flustered face, grinning at the result of his handy work. He kissed up and down your jaw, pausing for a second to admire the marks left by his desperate affection.

You were still reeling from the memory of moments ago, brain fuzzy from the overwhelming pleasure. I was sure the first time was meant to be bad… you thought to yourself. Finally, you noticed James’ lovesick gaze at your neck and collarbone, eyes wide as you realised what he was observing.

“Might have to cover these up before breakfast tomorrow, darling,” he smiled apologetically with sleep lacing his whispering voice, “I went a bit overboard, I’m sorry…” He nuzzled back into your neck with a bashful smile, drawing circles on your skin with his fingers.

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The next day was cold with the promise of impending rain, a perfect climate for inconspicuously slipping on a turtleneck under your uniform before leaving for breakfast with your roommates. You had always maintained a sense of privacy with James, reluctant to tell your friend group quite as much as they tell you about their romantic escapades.

Mary, Dorcas and Lily took their seats on one side of the Gryffindor table as you saved seats for the Marauders on the other. Breakfast was peaceful, the four of you making small talk and enjoying your food before the Great Hall doors opened to reveal the more obnoxious half of your group.

James was looking particularly confident, smiling wide with crinkled eyes and walking with a slight bounce in his step. The boys piled onto the bench next to you while James reached over your head to pluck a peach from the fruit bowl.

“Morning hot stuff,” James winked at you as he slid into the space between you and Sirius, lacing a hand along your back, around your torso and between your thighs. You glared at his cocky grin, face warming at the intimate contact. “What?” he whispered, feigning innocence, “my hands are cold.”

“Uh- Mary was just telling us about this muggle game,” you diverted, “what was it called again?” Mary lit up, returning to her rambling about a complicated board game involving houses and train stations.

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You were far gone by the time Mary caught the others up to speed, engrossed in the way James was breathing against your skin and holding you against his warm, muscular form.

He began to pull at your turtleneck ever so slightly, first at your stomach to rub soothing circles into your skin, then at your neck to peer at his masterpiece from the previous night. James pressed a soft kiss to the highest mark, causing you to shiver and stare intently at your breakfast to distract yourself.

By the time your boyfriend had removed himself from your skin, Mary had finished her explanation and all eyes were on the two of you.

Sirius furrowed his brows, gazing from James, to you, back to James, then to Remus. Remus watched your interaction curiously, eyes gliding down to where James’ hand met the inside of your upper thigh, a familiar symbol of lust he knew all too well from Sirius’ own actions under the table. The girls across from you glanced at each other, then at Peter, before Dorcas completed the circle of confused looks as she stared at Sirius, who finally broke the silence.

“So, Prongs…get much study done while we were out yesterday?” James’ lustful grin faltered as he finally acknowledged your friends’ presence for the first time that morning, turning away from you and towards his roommate.

“Uh- yeah, yeah we did actually! Totally prepared for the exam, Minnie will be praising me,” he pulled one of his hands away from your skin to the back of his neck, scratching in an awkward display of nervousness. His other hand traveled down your leg to rest on your knee, a far more common sight for the two of you. Sirius wasn’t convinced.

“Uh huh…and what’s that exam on again?” He smirked, looking you up and down as you gulped under his glare, “Anatomy?”

Dorcas choked on a laugh, dribbling juice in the process while the others muffled their amusement with their hands. James bit his lip, wincing at the realisation that he had been far too obvious with his intimate affection.

He turned back to you, seeing the bright red hue of your face and the embarrassed downturn of your head. He threw his arm around your middle in confident comfort. Your eyes were glued to a single berry on the edge of your plate.

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Your friends had released a long series of sounds of amusement, cheering in celebration at their recent discovery. “With the way James talks about you, love, I’m surprised he didn’t jump you on the first date!” Sirius cackled, causing James to crack a sympathetic smile in your direction before nuzzling into your neck once again.

“I think this makes us the most experienced group in the school now that you two lovesick dogs, have…you know…” Lily trailed off, “Wait, we are talking about these two losing their v-“

“Obviously!”

James had fully phased out the conversation, getting intoxicated on your scent as his held you close with eyes closed in satisfaction. You were warming up to the conversation now, brushing James’ mess of hair away from his mouth as you giggled at the excitement that erupted from your section of the table.

“So,” Sirius continued, leaning over to you with an obnoxiously loud whisper, “is Prongs good in bed?”

“Yes.”

“Sirius,” James whined, sitting up in the process, “don’t push her- wait, what did you say?” He spun around to face you with wide eyes as you smirked back at him. You were already knee deep in this conversation, it couldn’t hurt to boost your boyfriend’s ego and satisfy his recently discovered lust for praise.

“He’s amazing, in fact…boys, why don’t you go on another secret trip to Hogsmeade tonight? I’m sure you’ve already run out of chocolate, and James could probably do with a room to himself…” you teased in the direction of the remaining Marauders before spotting James’ glossy eyes and parted lips in your peripheral.

He clung tighter to your middle as Peter gazed at you with a confused frown. “But we went yesterday, we still have a lot of-“ he glanced at the others, all adorning knowing smirks. “Ohhhh…yeah, yeah we can do that.”

James turned to Peter with a bashful smile, mouthing a thank you that made the group burst out laughing once again.

Finally remembering their breakfast, your companions returned to cleaning their plates as James continued consuming his, kissing you along your jaw and resisting the urge to line you up on the table then and there. He bit into his peach suggestively, batting his lashes at you.

“No more PDA at the table, Jamie.”

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[everythingisromant1c]

It's Always Been You

james potter x fem!reader

Completed! Series

summary - You've known golden-boy James Potter for as long as you can remember. Though you don't just know him—he's your very best friend. But there's just one problem: you've fallen deeply, madly in love with him. Or two problems, if you count his thing for your friend Lily Evans. As time goes by, all you want is to get over him. Although, James seems set on making that the most impossible challenge of them all.

tags: James Potter x f!reader, childhood best friends to lovers, pining, unrequited love (or is it), "why are you pushing me away?", some miscommunication, Marauder!reader, hurt/comfort, angst, and a kiss that changed everything.

warnings: underage drinking, some mild cursing, occasional innuendo, she/her pronouns used, no use of y/n

a/n: this story has been a long time in the making ... but I'm very excited for it to be out! a very special thank u to everyone who supported it during its release, it rly means the world to me. with that being said, happy reading !! hope you guys enjoy <3 - e

check this out on my ao3!

*masterlist

read here:

Chapter 1 ->

Chapter 2 ->

Chapter 3 ->

Chapter 4 ->

Chapter 5 ->

Chapter 6 ->

Chapter 7 ->

Chapter 8 ->

Chapter 9 ->

Chapter 10 ->

Chapter 11 ->

Chapter 12 ->

*completed* <33

[bigbaddie45]

Y’all ever read such a good fic with a nice plot just with so many spelling errors?!? Like TF you mean he was “grinong” in her ear or “taiek” her by the waist??

[hemmingsleclerc]

Easy is boring┃james potter

This is inspired by jade and beck from victorious!!! ugh love them and hate them together ngl, anywaysss hope u like thiss !!

James Potter and Y/N Malfoy were the definition of opposites. He was Gryffindor's golden boy, with his wild hair, quick wit and charming smile. She was the fierce embodiment of a snake, with her piercing eyes, her cutting and aggressive comments and intimidating air. Their relationship was a whirlwind of personalities and heated exchanges, but somehow it worked, which many people couldn't understand how.

It hadn't been easy. When they first started dating, their friends had been incredulous, to say the least. Sirius had nearly fallen out of bed in shock when he found out. Remus raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything, while Peter simply gaped, looking paler than usual.

Regulus and Pandora, Y/N's best and only friends, were also a little shocked to hear the news. Regulus' eyes widened unnaturally as he looked at his best friend as if she had suddenly said the craziest thing, while Pandora began clapping and jumping up and down in joy at the news.

Despite initial resistance, James and Y/N persisted. Their relationship was far from calm. They fought often and loudly, but their arguments were like storms: fierce and intense, but before long they were as if nothing had happened.

One afternoon, James was convincing himself that he was studying in the library when Y/N burst in with a furious look on her face. Without a word, she dropped her books on the table with a thud and sat down opposite him, massaging her forehead.

"Hey darling, rough day?" James asked, his tone light.

Y/N sighed in frustration. "You could say that."

James reached across the table, taking her hand in his. "Wanna talk about it?"

For a moment, she looked like she might snap at him, but then her expression softened slightly. "Just the usual. Some idiot in Potions thought he could show off and ended up nearly blowing up the classroom and it turned out to be my partner."

James chuckled and squeezed her hand. "You know, you don't always have to be so tough."

Y/N looked at him and her eyes searched his. "I know, but it's hard to let my guard down."

James leaned in, his voice gentle. "You can with me." and then kissed her hands.

Their relationship continued to be a rollercoaster, but it was a ride neither of them wanted to get off. They balanced each other in unexpected ways—James's lightheartedness softened Y/N's nerves, while her strength kept him with his feets on the ground.

One afternoon, Dorcas found herself pondering once again the mystery of their relationship. She watched as Y/N barked orders during Quidditch practice, her imposing presence and furious face impossible to ignore. James, who was also on the field, looked at her with the same loving gaze.

"Merlin, James," sighed Dorcas as she sank into the stands next to him "Why do you put up with her?"

James turned his head to look at her, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Dorcas gestured towards Y/N, who was now gesturing frantically as she continued her heated argument with the rest of her team. "She's rude and aggressive. Why are you with her?"

James chuckled, glancing back at Y/N with a fond look in his eyes. "I like girls who have strong opinions and a big mouth."

Dorcas looked utterly baffled. "But why? You could have anyone, someone nice and easy-going. Why her?"

James shrugged, a proud smirk playing on his lips. "Because it’s not easy... easy is boring."

Dorcas shook her head, exasperated. ''You lost your mind potter''

James' smile grew softer. "She's real, Dorcas. She's raw. And I never get bored. She challenges me and makes me better. I wouldn't trade what we have for anything."

[starksweasley]

Worth It // James Potter

Summary: Your older brother Remus catches you making out with his best friend

Word Count: 1095

It was late, the Gryffindor common room bathed in the warm glow of flickering firelight. The evening had stretched into a quiet lull, the perfect backdrop for studying. You were tucked into the far corner, books and parchment spread out around you, determined to get through your Potions notes. Across from you, James Potter sat with a Transfiguration text open on his lap, though his eyes hadn’t touched it for the past twenty minutes.

He was staring at you. Again.

“James,” you whispered sharply, glancing up just in time to catch the boyish grin that spread across his face. His hazel eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was a softness to them too, something that made your cheeks flush. “Focus. You’re supposed to be studying.”

“I am focusing,” he countered smoothly, leaning forward to rest his chin in his hand, the picture of mischief. “Just not on Transfiguration.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the smile threatening to break across your face, and buried your nose back in your notes. Ignoring James was a skill you were still trying to master—and failing miserably at. Two weeks. That’s how long you’d been secretly dating James Potter. And in those two weeks, you’d come to realize two things: first, James was impossible to resist. Second, your brother Remus was terrifyingly protective, and if he caught wind of this, well… you’d rather not find out what would happen.

James’s chair creaked as he leaned back, the sound pulling your attention despite your better judgment. His hair was an unruly mess, as always, and his tie hung loosely around his neck. He’d already shrugged off his robes, leaving him in his shirt and jumper, the sleeves pushed up to reveal his forearms. You swallowed hard and looked back down at your notes, but the words blurred together.

“Moony’s not even here,” James said suddenly, his voice breaking the quiet. He pushed his chair back, sliding it closer to yours with a deliberate scrape. “And Sirius went with him. It’s just us. No one to tattle.”

You glanced around the room. It was nearly empty, a trio of first-years dozing by the fire and two seventh-years huddled in a corner. Still, your heart pounded at the thought of someone catching you. “It’s not about tattling,” you muttered, shoving at his chair with your foot. “It’s about… appearances.”

“Love,” he said softly, leaning closer, his voice dipping in that way that made your knees weak even when you were sitting down. “We’re studying. That’s innocent, isn’t it?”

His proximity sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself unable to respond. Before you could gather your thoughts, he reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your skin. The corner of his mouth quirked upward at the way you froze, caught between shoving him away and pulling him closer.

“Jamie,” you hissed, though there was no real heat behind it.

“Remus isn’t here,” he repeated, his voice full of teasing promise. “And I miss you.”

The warmth in his voice melted your resolve, and for a moment, the world outside the circle of firelight didn’t matter. You studied his face, the freckles scattered across his nose, the way his lashes framed those golden eyes, the faint smirk playing on his lips. His hand lingered near your cheek, and when he tilted his head slightly, your heart stuttered.

“You’re impossible,” you murmured, shaking your head. But there was a smile in your voice, and you knew he heard it.

“And yet, here I am.” His hand moved to your chin, tilting it gently until your eyes met his. The fire crackled in the background, but all you could hear was the steady rhythm of your own heartbeat.

“James,” you whispered again, but this time, it was softer, your voice betraying the battle you were losing.

The next time he leaned in, you didn’t stop him. Instead, you shoved your books aside with a dramatic sigh and, to his visible surprise, launched yourself onto his lap. James let out a startled laugh, his arms instinctively wrapping around you as your lips found his in a kiss that wiped the smug grin right off his face. The kiss was warm, slow, and entirely consuming. His hands traced gentle patterns on your back, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go.

“You win,” you murmured against his mouth, feeling his chest rumble with laughter as his hands tightened around your waist.

“Oh, I definitely win,” he agreed, his voice low and full of affection.

The moment was perfect. It was warm and quiet and—

The portrait hole slammed open.

“What the bloody—” Sirius Black’s voice rang out, loud and incredulous.

You and James pulled apart so fast you nearly toppled to the floor, but James’s hands steadied you just as Remus' eyes landed on you. His expression twisted from confusion to realization to fury in the span of a heartbeat.

“You…” Remus pointed a finger at James, who immediately shrank back, his cocky demeanor vanishing. “You bloody prat! That’s my sister!”

“Moony, wait—” James began, scrambling out of his chair and nearly tripping over his own feet.

But Remus was already on the move, rounding the sofa with a speed that could only be described as wolfish. James bolted, darting around the furniture, a panicked grin plastered on his face as Sirius leaned against the wall, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

“She started it!” James shouted over his shoulder, making the mistake of glancing back. Remus lunged, but James dove over the back of the couch, narrowly avoiding him.

“You absolute coward!” you called, half-amused, half-mortified as you hurried to gather your scattered books.

“I’ll show you coward!” Remus yelled, vaulting over the armrest in pursuit. James let out a yelp and ducked behind Sirius, who was now doubled over with laughter.

“Remus, mate,” James tried again, his hands up in mock surrender. “I swear, it’s…” He faltered, glancing at you, his eyes full of pleading. “It’s not what it looks like?”

Remus growled, an actual growl, and James bolted for the stairs.

You couldn’t help it. You burst out laughing, sinking into the nearest armchair as Sirius wiped tears from his eyes.

“I’ll give him a five-second head start,” Remus muttered, shooting you a sharp look that only made you laugh harder. “Then we’re having words, both of you.”

“Worth it,” James called faintly from somewhere up the stairs.

And despite everything, you couldn’t help but agree.

[madisunivrse]

currently thinking about men. as always. i need to be hospitalized immediately. x reader fics are the only thing keeping me going. about to go to sleep PLEASE let me dream of men lord.

[ikkyfics]

Snowball Fight

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: “You’re impossible,” you whispered, unable to hide the fondness in your tone. “And you’re stuck with me,” James replied, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and adoration that made your chest feel impossibly light.

Warnings: just fluffy - a snow fight with the Marauders, James finding any excuse for a kiss, Peter being a traitor (with good reasons, of course), Sirius and Remus because they're adorable

N/A: yeaaaaaaah did you think there wouldn't be a christmas fic? well, I thought so too - but here we are. I've never seen snow, so it's a little ironic lmao

Masterlist

It was a perfect Christmas morning at Hogwarts. Freshly fallen snow blanketed the castle and grounds like a white mantle, reflecting the pale sunlight and transforming everything into an even more enchanting magical world. James Potter, however, seemed to have boundless energy—perhaps more than usual, given the enthusiasm he showed while holding your hand and pulling you toward the castle’s main doors.

“James, it’s freezing out there!” you protested, laughing as you tried to keep your balance on the slippery floor.

“Exactly! It’s a golden opportunity, my dear. Snow and Christmas go together like... well, like you and me.” He winked dramatically, though the playful expression couldn’t quite hide the faint blush on his cheeks—and it wasn’t just because of the cold.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile that threatened to escape. “And what do you have in mind, then? A mischievous Marauder plan or something truly innocent for the first time ever?”

“I’d say you’ll just have to trust my charm,” he said with a grin so daring it was almost impossible not to go along with him.

A few minutes later, the two of you were outside, the cold morning air wrapping around you both. The world seemed incredibly quiet, save for the muffled sound of your boots crunching through the snow.

“So,” James began, his voice loaded with a false casualness as he bent down to scoop up a handful of snow. “Do you think you can get away from me so easily?”

You raised an eyebrow, noticing the mischievous glint in his eyes. “What—”

Before you could finish your sentence, a snowball hit your arm.

“Potter!” you shouted, already leaning down to retaliate, and within seconds, the two of you were laughing and running like children. James moved quickly, almost always dodging your attempts to hit him, but you weren’t exactly easy to catch, either.

That was when unexpected reinforcements arrived. Sirius appeared out of nowhere, dressed in a thick overcoat and sporting a grin that promised trouble. “Need some help, Prongs?”

“Knew you couldn’t resist!” James shouted back, already moving to Sirius’s side as you stared at both of them with a mix of desperation and determination.

“This is unfair! Two against one?” you exclaimed, though you were smiling.

“Two against one?” A calm voice chimed in behind you. Remus. “Doesn’t sound very fair to me.” He smiled slightly, tilting his head in your direction. “Perhaps I’ll root for you.”

“Don’t just root, help!” you said, laughing as Remus discreetly launched a snowball that hit Sirius squarely in the back of the neck.

At that moment, Peter came running in from the side, carrying what looked like the beginnings of a stockpile of snowballs in his arms. “What’s going on here? Need a referee?”

“More like a traitor in the making,” Sirius grumbled, narrowing his eyes at Peter.

“Traitor? I prefer opportunist,” Peter replied with a mischievous grin, tossing a snowball at Remus. “For now, I’m on their side!” He gestured to James and Sirius, but before they could celebrate, Peter had already switched sides. “Or maybe hers. Watching you covered in snow, Sirius, is pretty entertaining.”

The battle raged on with laughter and teasing—James and Sirius forming a chaotic duo while you, Remus, and eventually Peter balanced the scales with clever strategies (and a few playful betrayals). At one point, an explosion of snow flew in all directions, leaving everyone breathless and laughing uncontrollably.

It was then that James, with an unexpectedly clever move, managed to gently “knock” you into the snow. Laughing triumphantly, he leaned over you, his knees sinking slightly into the fluffy blanket of white. The wide grin on his face softened almost instantly as his vibrant blue eyes locked onto yours. For a moment, the world around you seemed to fall silent—not because of the snow’s muffling embrace, but because of the intensity between you.

The messy black hair that always seemed to defy gravity fell into his forehead, framing his flushed cheeks. His glasses had slipped down slightly, fogged up at the edges, making him squint just a bit. That small imperfection made your heart skip in ways that felt both ridiculous and undeniable.

“Caught you,” he said softly, the teasing edge in his voice giving way to something warmer. His breath came out in soft, visible puffs, brushing against your skin in the cold air.

You didn’t respond immediately, your gaze flitting over his features. The unruly hair, the slight tilt of his lips as if he were about to say something funny, the way his eyes seemed impossibly bright against the pale winter landscape—it was all so James.

“Well done, Potter,” you finally managed, a playful lilt in your tone. “You’ve bested me. What are you going to do now? Gloat?”

James chuckled, his weight shifting slightly as he propped himself up with one arm. “Tempting, but I think I’ve earned something better.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was a shyness underneath that made your heart flutter.

“Oh?” you replied, lifting an eyebrow even as your cheeks grew warm. “And what exactly do you think you’ve earned?”

He hesitated, his confidence faltering just enough for you to notice. That hesitation, paired with the way his fingers absently brushed the snow near your shoulder, was unbearably endearing.

You smirked, closing the small gap between you as your voice dropped to a whisper. “James,” you said his name with just enough tenderness to make him stop fidgeting and focus entirely on you. “You’re staring.”

“Can you blame me?” he shot back, his grin returning, though his voice was quieter now. “It’s not every day I get to see you like this. All…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely before rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re just… you know, perfect.”

The words hung in the air between you, his earnestness making your chest tighten.

“You’re terrible at this,” you teased, though your voice cracked slightly from the rush of emotions threatening to bubble over.

“Maybe,” he admitted with a shrug, his own cheeks reddening even more. “But I’m not giving up.”

You laughed softly, the sound breaking the tension for a moment, though neither of you moved away. James leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin despite the chill of the air.

“Is this the moment I get a kiss?” he murmured, his voice low but firm, his blue eyes flickering between your eyes and your mouth.

His smile softened, and you nodded. “I thought you’d never ask.”

That was all the permission he needed. James lowered his head, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was as sweet as it was right. The world seemed still around you, the snow falling silently as his warmth filled every part of you.

When he pulled away, your cheeks were an even deeper shade of red, and you could feel the heat rising to your own face.

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius’s voice shattered the moment, his tone exaggeratedly scandalized. “Are you two snogging or strategizing? Because from here, it looks like we’re down a teammate!”

“Merlin, James, we’re trying to win here!” Peter chimed in, his breathless voice somewhere between a laugh and a groan.

“Get on with it already, mate!” Remus added, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

James groaned, clearly reluctant to move, but the way he looked at you—his nose almost brushing yours again—made your stomach flip. “Don’t mind them,” he muttered.

You laughed softly, reaching up to adjust his glasses, which were still slightly askew. “They might actually freeze solid if we keep this up.”

“Let them,” James murmured, stealing another quick kiss that made your cheeks burn just as much as his.

Sirius groaned even louder. “Unbelievable! Right, lads, let’s pelt them with snow until they remember they’re on a team!”

Before you could react, a handful of snow hit the side of James’s head, courtesy of Remus. Peter followed up with his own poorly aimed snowball, which hit Sirius instead.

James laughed as he pulled you to your feet, his hand lingering in yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as you both struggled to stifle your laughter.

“You’re impossible,” you whispered, unable to hide the fondness in your tone.

“And you’re stuck with me,” James replied, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and adoration that made your chest feel impossibly light.

The teasing voices of the Marauders grew louder as they approached, Sirius leading the charge with an armful of snowballs. But as James wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, the chaos around you seemed to melt away.

“I hope you know this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” he said softly, his lips brushing against your temple.

You smiled, leaning into him as the snow began to fall again. “It’s definitely up there.”

“And next year,” he added, his voice low and full of promise, “I’ll make it even better.”

The snowball that hit the back of his head moments later didn’t do much to ruin the moment. If anything, it only made the laughter that followed even sweeter.

[ttroubledwaters]

I love how I can scroll on tiktok, see a random ass tiktok and open the comment section n see a bunch of marauders fans basically claiming the video. "this is so Sirius" "omg it's wolfstar" "Jilly core" y'all are iconic. Please never stop.

[petitemistletoe]

Tutor

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Warnings: smut, angst

Word Count: 3.2K+

“Mr. Potter, I’d like to talk to you about something,” Professor McGonagall called from her desk as everyone was filing out. James had to stifle a groan as he exchanged a look with Sirius before making his way to the professor’s desk. It was his last class before dinner on a Friday and he was starving and wanting to get pissed with the marauders. 

“Yes Professor?” He asked, hoping he didn’t sound too eager to leave. 

“Your grades this past year have slipped, Mr. Potter. You’re a very talented wizard but I’m afraid this year you’ve become more focused on Quidditch than your studies.” Professor McGonagall gave James a disapproving look over her glasses. 

“Oh yes, it’s been a bit of adjustment now that I’m captain but I’m confident we’ll crush Slytherin in the tournament.” James said eagerly. 

“Mr. Potter you are not listening. If you do not get your grades up you will not be allowed to play.” McGonagall sighed and took off her glasses. “You know there is nothing more I would enjoy than watching my house win the Quidditch cup. Now, I’ve found a tutor for you to help you in your area of weakness: potions.”

“Moony? Evans?” James asked hopefully. 

“No.” McGonagall shook her head. “You have a potions exam in two weeks. If you are able to get an A or above you will be permitted to play.”

“I can’t believe you have to have a tutor! It’s inhumane!” Sirius protested after James explained everything over dinner.

“It’s just tutoring, Sirius,” Remus said with an eyeroll, “Who’s tutoring you anyway? Evans?”

“I wish. McGonagall didn’t mention who. I’m supposed to be in the library tomorrow at ten in the morning.”

“Ten! On a Saturday? Inhumane!” Sirius repeated. Then he looked down the table and called, “Oi! Evans! Why aren’t you tutoring Prongs in potions?”

“Tell the whole hall why don’t you?” James grumbled, laying his down on the table. 

“What?” Lily looked over at the boys with an already bewildered expression. “I’m tutoring a second year Hufflepuff in Transfiguration tomorrow.”

“Are you failing potions, James?” Mary chuckled. “Not failing,” James said, not moving his head from the table, “but I need to be doing better.”

“Who’s tutoring you?” Marlene asked. 

“Don’t know.” 

“What if it’s Snape?” Peter asked, a little fearful.

“Oh that would be perfect.” James hit his head on the table. 

“Oh god, I’m so hungover.” James said, hitting his alarm with his eyes shut. 

“Shut up!” Peter groaned, curling his pillow around his head. 

“Both of you be quiet! I can’t get hard with you both talking.” Sirius yelled from Remus’s bed. 

“Sirius!” It sounded like Remus had punched Sirius as Sirius groaned and then fell through the curtain, holding his nose. 

“Why is your alarm going off anyway?” Sirius asked, standing up and covering his dick with one hand and his other hand still on his nose as he shuffled to the bathroom. 

“Put some clothes on!” Peter groaned, turning so his face was pressed into his mattress and his pillow was over his head. 

“I have tutoring today,” James groaned, putting on his glasses and trying to see how long he had until his tutoring session started. It was ten fifteen and James felt like his brain was pulsating inside his head. 

“Aren’t you going to be late?” Remus called from his bed. 

“No, no. I still have a quarter of an hour before I have to go.” James let his head hit the pillow again. 

“I thought you said your session was at 10?” Remus stuck his head out between the curtains of his bed. 

“No, 10:30. Right?” James started to feel a pit of dread form in his stomach. 

“You said 10.” Peter shook from underneath his blanket. 

“10!” Sirius called from the bathroom. 

“Fuck!” James shot out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater. “Padfoot!” He slammed his fist against the bathroom door, “Get out! I need to brush my teeth!”

At 10:25 James was stumbling into the library and staring around. He was sure that his hair was sticking up every which way as he looked to see where his tutor was. 

He saw you, Sirius’s cousin who the marauders all affectionately called Baby Black, much to your chagrin, sitting at a table in the library, looking over a piece of parchment with a red quill as you twirled a spoon in a cup of tea. 

“Hey! Baby Black,” James said, slamming his hands down on the table where you were, “are you my tutor?”

“You’re late,” you said, “and don’t call me that,” not even looking up from the parchment. You were the same year as the marauders but you had about as much to do with them as you did with the other Black cousins: Regulus, Narcissa, and Bellatrix. You preferred to forge your own path at a school that was seemingly bursting at the seams with your family. Sirius often talked about how you had been the luckiest of all the Black children as your parents, while a little wicked as was Black nature, were the calmest and kindest Blacks aside from any Blacks who had been ex-communicated. Needless to say, even though you were in Slytherin you were nothing like anyone in your family. 

“Sorry, sorry. I have a wicked hangover because I was super drunk last night and-”

“Just sit down,” you cut him off, “I’m finishing up grading a quiz from one of my other students in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Sure, sure. Sorry.” James said, sitting down and taking off his glasses. He had a terrible headache and felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. 

“Alright, so potions? What do you need to brew amortentia?” you asked after setting the parchment aside. James took a second to look you. He couldn’t help thinking you were gorgeous: the way your lips were slightly parted as you read, the way you twirled your ring on your finger as you spoke, the brightness in your eyes. He was sure you had a great smile too, but he had yet to see it. 

“Uh, right, love potion. Rose thorns and petals, powdered moonstone, pearl dust, ashwinder eggs, uh chocolate?” James looked at you as your eyes narrowed. 

“Chocolate? God really doesn’t give with both hands, does he?” You shook your head.

“Tulip nectar! Pinecones! Fairy dust?”

“Stop guessing. It’s peppermint. You’re more behind than I thought.” 

“Why are you asking about love potions anyway? Got a crush?” James asked, leaning in and looking up at you seductively. 

“First,” you said, pushing James back with your two pointer fingers, “you have to brew amortentia for your potions exam. Second, you smell like whiskey and vomit.” 

“You love it, Baby Black.”

“I will get Regulus to hex you, Potter.” You said with a light shake of your head. You worked with James for the next hour and a half before assigning him some homework. 

“Thanks for all your help, Baby Black. I’ll see you Tuesday?” James tried to send you another winning smile and you shook your head at him. 

“Monday.” You said, pushing your books into your bag.

“I have quidditch on Monday.”

“What are you going to do when you’re done playing for Gryffindor?” 

“Play professionally,” James shrugged, “Marlene’s brother said he could arrange a meeting with the Canons.”

“So that’s it? You’re going to play quidditch for the rest of your life?” You weren’t sure why you were getting so upset about the situation but you couldn’t stop yourself. 

“What’s wrong with that?” James started to get upset too, raising his voice. “Who doesn’t love quidditch?”

“I don’t.”

“How can’t you? Your cousins Regulus, Narcissa, and Sirius all play or played quidditch. Is the sport of the international wizarding world!”

“It’s beneath you.””

“You don’t even know me. You’re just supposed to be my potions tutor.” James snapped. 

“Fine,” you said cooly, “I’ll see you Tuesday, then.” You practically ran from the library. James shook his head and made his way over to the great hall. He tried to search for you at the Slytherin table before he sat at the Gryffindor table for lunch.

“How was the tutoring session?” Lily asked, stabbing at a piece of lettuce on her plate. 

“Fine. You’ll never guess who it’s with.” James said, looking at Sirius who had been trying to lick Remus’s neck for the past minute. Every time he got close, Remus would snap his fingers up and grab Sirius’ tongue. Sirius’ tongue was currently lodged between Remus’s fingers as Remus read the book that was in his other hand. 

“Who?” Sirius asked, trying to turn but was pulled back by his outstretched tongue, “Let me go!”

“Stop trying to lick me!” Remus said, letting Sirius’ tongue go. 

“Anyway,” Sirius stuck his tongue out at Sirius, “who’s your tutor?”

“Your cousin!” James said with an eyebrow raise. 

“Regulus?” Peter cocked his head.

“Don’t be stupid,” Remus rolled his eyes, “you mean Baby Black don’t you?”

“My cousin is tutoring you? Why didn’t she tell me?” Sirius asked, looking over at the Slytherin table. 

“I have no idea.” James shook his head. 

“Oi! Regulus! Where’s the girl?” Sirius asked, tossing a crumpled piece of parchment at Regulus. Regulus couldn’t have given Sirius a more intense glower before rubbing his nose and saying, 

“Excuse me?”

“Our cousin, Reg. Have you seen her?” Sirius looked at Regulus like he was an idiot. Regulus looked around for a moment and shrugged,

“No idea. I’ll check on her after dinner.” 

“Did you say something to her, James?” Remus asked. Sirius took advantage of this moment of Remus’s distraction to lick him up the neck. 

“Ah ha!” Sirius grinned triumphantly. 

“I’m going to murder you!” Remus said, pulling out his wand. 

“Nevermind,” James rolled his eyes. 

Over the course of the next two weeks, you and James met twice a week for tutoring lessons in the library. One Thursday was just one of those days that was rainy and sleepy and the last day in the week before one of those rare gorgeous three day weekends. It wasn’t a true three day weekend, really, there were no classes on Friday due to a set of makeup exams that were offered to students who wanted to improve their winter exam scores. James was one of these choice students who would hopefully be done once and for all with potions tutoring after the Friday exam. After a full set of classes and an early morning Quidditch practice, all James wanted was to eat dinner and crawl into bed before the weekend ahead of him. Of course, you had chosen today of all days to meet for a final tutoring session before the big potions exam on Friday. 

He was eating dinner when you stopped by the Gryffindor table and sat down next to him.

“What are you doing here?” Sirius asked, shocked by the presence of another Black at the Gryffindor table. 

“I need to talk to James,” you said quickly, “Meet me in the potions classroom in the dungeons for tonight’s lessons.”

“Why the dungeons? What’s wrong with the library?” James asked.

“Slughorn said we could use his classroom so you can fully practice brewing your assigned potions.” You said, getting up from the table, “See you at 8. Don’t be late.” You got up and walked away. James watched you leave the great hall and then sighed, 

“I can’t wait for this to be over.”

“Yeah right,” Remus snorted. 

“What do you mean?” James asked.

“All you’ve talked about these past two weeks is Baby Black.”

“Well yeah. Complaining. She’s annoying.”

“No, not complaining. You can’t stop talking about her. You like her.” Remus grinned. 

“You cannot date my cousin, James.” Sirius said with a hard expression.

“I don’t even like her!” James insisted. Apparently Sirius wasn’t the only Black child that was concerned about you. Regulus stalked over and sat down next to James where you had been only a few moments before. 

“Stay away from my cousin. She’s fragile and sensitive and doesn’t need a rat like you sniffing around her.” He snapped at James. 

“She’s just my tutor! I don’t like her! She barely even tolerates me!” James cried, ignoring Remus’s shit eating grin. 

“I knew it!” Sirius slammed his hand down on the table, “you are trying to fuck my cousin!” 

“Oh my god! I’m leaving!” James stood from the table, looking at the Black brothers. “You two are exactly alike. Why I would ever want to get more involved with this family?” 

“Hey!” Regulus and Sirius said at the same time as Remus cackled. 

“Your cousins are insane,” James said with a head shake as he sat down next to you in the dungeons. 

“You’re telling me.” You muttered. Your hair had been pinned up with your wand stuck through and you pulled your wand out letting your hair fall more freely. You worked with James for the next hour and a half and it seemed like James was going to pass his exam.

“Okay, the last thing I need to do is check on your amortentia, but we can do that tomorrow morning before your exam. Meet back here at eight in the morning.” You replied. You were fanning your neck it had gotten hot in the dungeons after James’ heating potion had gotten a little of hand. You took off your sweater so you were just in a pair of trousers and a thin tank top. James watched a bead of sweat make its way down your neck and into your cleavage.

“Thanks with all your help, Baby Black. You really saved my ass.” He smiled. 

“You worked hard for it, James. No wonder Sirius loves you so much.” You smiled back at him. You had to admit that James wasn’t bad looking at all. He was a bit annoying, the way the Marauders were, but he had a kind heart and easy smile. Before you could fully process what was happening, James was leaning in and kissing you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, pulling away suddenly. 

“I’m sorry! I thought…we were…you aren’t into?” James asked, bewildered. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You scrambled up and ran out of the dungeon. It wasn’t until you were at the portrait in front of the Slytherin dormitory that you took a minute to stop and let your fingers ghost over your lips. You felt a small smile crawl onto your face and thought about how sad it would be to no longer have an excuse to see James. 

“Where’s Moony?” James asked as he burst into the dormitory. 

“Sucking my dick.” Sirius called from his bed. “Ow! Fuck Moony enough with the teeth!”

“What do you need James?” Remus asked, sticking his head between the curtains. 

“Can you talk? Privately?” 

“Yeah, just a second. I left my notebook by the charms room today. You can walk with me.” Remus got dressed and walked alongside James to the charms classroom.

“So what’s going on, Prongs?” Remus asked. 

“Okay, first, you can’t tell Sirius I told you this.” James started. 

“You’re freaking me out, James.”

“I kissed baby Black.” James blurted out. Remus stopped dead in his tracks and looked at James. 

“You did what?”

“I know! It’s just…she was so nice. And she’s so warm but still sassy and she hates quidditch and doesn’t worship me or anything. And it was hot in the dungeons and she had her sweater off and I don’t know what happened but I kissed her and she ran from the room. Oh god, Moony what did I do?” James was rambling. 

“Okay. Alright. Listen. Did she say she was going to tell anyone?” Remus asked. 

“She didn’t say anything.” 

“You better hope she doesn’t tell Sirius. Or worse, Regulus. You should talk to her.” Remus shook his head. 

“I have to see her tomorrow for her to check my potion before the exam. I’ll talk to her then. Will you come with me?” James felt his stomach flip at the thought.

James felt like his feet were cinderblocks as he made his way to the dungeons with Remus. You were there, in that damn tank top again, looking at the potions. 

“Oh good,” you looked up and gave him a shy smile, “you’re here…with Remus.” Your smile faltered. 

“I’d like to talk about-” James started but you cut him off. 

“Let’s just look at your potion.” Your words were clipped. 

“Alright, Remus why don’t you smell it first and let us know what you think and we can make sure it smells different to everyone.” James said. Remus bent down and took a large sniff of the bubbling liquid in the cauldron. 

“Smells like chocolate, parchment, leather, vinyl. Sirius. Nice job, James.” Remus sat back a little and smiled. “After you Ms. Black.”

“Alright,” you took a large sniff, “Clean cut grass, butter beer, hot Yorkshire pudding.”

Remus was stifling a smile, “And you James?”

“Firewood, a freshly sliced apple, vanilla, and…the Black estate? That smells like you.” James looked up at you confused. 

“I’m going to leave you two alone.” Remus stalked out of the dungeons, sending James a knowing look on his way out. 

“You smelled me in the potion,” James grinned. 

“You must have brewed it wrong.” You shook your head but you couldn’t hide your smile either. 

“You hate quidditch.”

“You’re a stupid jock.”

“You undress me with your eyes every time you see me.”

“You are Sirius’ best friend.”

“You are Sirius’ cousin.”

You grabbed James by the back of the neck and kissed him hard. James’ hands found your waist and started pull at the hem of your tank top. You took the tank top off and laid back on the desk. 

“You’re so beautiful.” James muttered, taking his shirt off too. He sunk down his knees and buried his face between your thighs. His tongue was as long as it was sharp and it darted in and out of your opening. 

“Fuck,” you murmured, your hands in James’ hair as you practically road his face. You came on his tongue before pulling him back up to kiss you. James unbuckled his belt and pushed himself inside you. You started to move your hips but James stopped you.

“Just,” he sounded strained, “I need to adjust for a moment. I’m so close, already, baby.” 

“Oh my god,” you grinned, pulling James closer so his forehead was against yours. James nodded and started to move. He pushed himself in and out of you and you were both moaning, especially when James reached a hand between your bodies to rub your clit. You saw stars as you came with James pulling out and cumming on your stomach soon after. He laid on top of you as you both tried to catch your breath. 

“Potter, what the fuck are you doing?” A new voice said. You and James turned to see Regulus and Sirius standing in the doorway of the potions classroom. 

“Oh Prongs, we’re going to have to kill you.” Sirius shook his head sadly.

“Oh fuck, you’re Sirius’ cousin.” James could only bow his head. 

[anjaelle]

White Light | Part IX

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Pairing: Ghost!Aaron Taylor-Johnson x Black!Reader Warnings: Purgatory, Darkness, Death, Creepy imagery Word Count: 1.7K Summary: No one can defy the natural cycle of birth, life, and death. Except...what if you really want to? A/N: Solo!Reader chapter but SUPER necessary as we go into the final part. Plus surprise new headers for this chapter and the final chapter. Yay!

[Part I] | [Part II] | [Part III] | [Part IV] | [Part V] | [Part VI] | [Part VII] | [Part VIII] | [☁Masterpost ☁] | [♫The Crimson Zombies Mixtape ♫]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You always had the belief that the liminal space between the afterlife and the living was paper thin. It had to be. How else could someone get trapped in the space between the two?

It felt like you were falling for an eternity.

Someone was holding you. As they were roughly pulled away, they called your name...you think. But they were too far away for you to register what it was.

You just wanted to sleep, but the darkness wouldn't let you. Voices echoed around you, whispering indecipherable words in languages you barely understood. They overlapped. Some were yelling, some laughing. You heard a sob, and a scream, and angry shouting.

Through it all, you heard the hoarse, shallow breathing of an unknown thing. You could feel its hot breath on the back of your neck, you smelled the unmistakable stench of decay and blood. You remembered the image of the thing with many sharp teeth, dripping black spit, and wide yellow eyes, staring at you from the corner of a room. Lying in wait. For what? You didn't know. But it grinned at you as it passed your vision and circled you curiously.

"Oh...oh...oh...It's you, little fox...fox...fox."

Little fox...little fox.

You're not supposed to be here, little fox.

She's not sssssupposed to be here...here...here

You tried to open your mouth to speak, but there was nothing to open. You floated through the dark without a body, without pain, without care. Just thoughts. You weren't afraid, though you felt like you should've been.

You wondered how the voices knew you.

"I've always known you, little fox...fox...fox. As I knew your mother, and her mother before her....her...her."

Am I dead? Is this the afterlife?

The overlapping whispers stopped at all once, replaced with deafening silence. The many-toothed thing laughed sharply. If you could see it properly, you're sure it would've thrown its grotesque head back in jest. And when you turned to follow the sound, it merely circled you again, dancing out of reach.

"My brave girl, you know exactly where you are."

You didn't even know your own name, let alone where you were and what you were supposed to do. The many-toothed thing tsked.

"I told the boy he could not have you. His soul was mine to take," the thing let out a low, tired sigh, "Oh, but he latched onto you, little fox. As stubborn as they come. You and your mother are quite similar."

There it was again. You struggled to think of your mother, but her face was just a vague image in your memory. As if by request, an image flashed of a woman who looked incredibly familiar, sitting on the floor of a house with the apparition of a woman sitting across from her. They held hands as the woman who was presumably your mother whispered over a candle.

"She tried desperately to save her." The thing whispered, sorrowfully, "But I warned her that saving a soul would always require a sacrifice."

She shifted, and it was then that you noticed that she was pregnant.

Was that you?

"Yessss," the thing answered, circling you again, "I told her that she could save her friend. But only if I could have you. And she chose you--as any mother would. But, oh, she was not happy to lose her. It was no surprise when she stopped answering me. But I've always...always loved her. And I've always known you."

The sincerity in the thing's voice caught you off guard. Small flashes of memory resurfaced of your mother shoving boxes in the back of the closet and covering mirrors. You thought she'd gone mad.

You felt a pang of familiarity in your chest.

"You can't save the boy."

The boy? You struggled to remember a face. A name. You could only remember the feeling.

"You...cannot...save him. Let him go."

Why?

"What's gone is gone and cannot be retrieved."

You didn't believe that. You felt something shift. Like the space around you was charged with electricity. You knew you didn't have a physical body here, but you could almost feel the vibrations in the air where your fingertips would be.

Is time linear here? How long have I been gone?

"You need to move on, little fox."

No. I'm not done. I'm not ready. I'm...I have to do something. I have to at least try.

The thing sighed, the scent of death wafted over you. You'd grown used to it.

Suddenly you were blinded by a bright white light, and the liminal space was a hallway with dozens of doors lined up on either side. You could hear the humming of voices, the slamming of the doors, the echoes of passing spirits.

You looked down and found your body in its rightful place. The bloom of blood drenched the side of your shirt, though you could no longer feel the pain of the wound. The memories of what happened slammed into you and you fell to your knees, gasping for breath like you'd been submerged underwater. And as you tried to regain your bearings, you tried to remember everything you'd been taught. Your grandmother told you about this once. She told you about walking in the space between, looking through the doors.

To think you believed for years that everything about your family's legacy was bullshit.

The many-toothed thing appeared beside you, floating in a shadow and causing the lights of the hall to flicker as it passed them. Its long, sharp fingernail pointed down the hall to a door.

"Go, little fox."

"Where does that door lead to?"

It didn't answer. It simply pointed before shrouding its face in the shadows once more.

You hesitated, unsure of where this was going to leave you. You didn't have a heartbeat anymore, but if you did, you're sure you would've heard it in your ears. Your hands shook. You broke out into a run, knowing walking would just prolong the inevitable.

As the door drew closer, the air shifted. It felt warmer. Brighter. You shoved the door open and began falling again.

Down...down...down. Through a bright white light, and the overlapping voices calling your name.

One familiar voice shouted for you, but before you could answer, you slammed into something hard and blacked out.

─ ·𖥸· ─

Your hearing was the first to return to you. Sort of. The ringing in your ears made your head pang, and you didn't even want to open your eyes. A low groan escaped your mouth. The wind was inevitably knocked out of you like you'd been hit by a truck. The strange, yet familiar humid cold in the air seeped into your skin and made you shiver, and you realized you weren't wearing a coat.

Why was it so cold?

"...Darling? Sweetheart? Are you alright?" The kind voice of an older woman pulled you into the present. You just wanted to lay down forever. Maybe take a nap. A few other voices joined in, asking if you were alright. Someone gently shook you.

You opened your eyes, squinting at the five faces floating into your field of vision. Unfamiliar, but concerned all the same. It suddenly struck you that they could see you. And touch you.

So you weren't dead?

As you worked to sit up, the older woman in a thick coat and nurse's scrubs gently held your back and guided you into the sitting position. She reminded you of your grandmother which gave you a strong level of comfort.

"There you go," she cooed softly, "easy now. That was a nasty fall, sweetheart. Are you alright? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

Her badge said New York Presbyterian, so you gathered she was just coming off of work. You felt a small pang of guilt for some unknown reason.

You cleared your throat.

"Yeah I'm fine, thank you." You struggled to get it out. Once it was confirmed that you weren't on the brink of death, the small crowd dispersed except for the woman who looked you over for signs of a concussion, no doubt. She took out a small light and checked your eyes.

"Do you know your name?" She asked. You told her, happy that you could remember it now.

"Do you know where you are?" You looked around, peering at the buildings in the north. The skyline looked...off. Different. You squinted, then turned to the south. You froze.

No...no no no.

Where the fuck was the Freedom Tower? Why was there a gaping hole in the skyline where a building should be? You felt your heart begin to race. The skyline wasn't right. It didn't look right.

"I-- we're in l-lower Manhattan. Right?"

"Good! Do you know the date?" You hesitated. How long were you gone? And how did you end up in the street? You looked down at your clothes and saw they were no longer bloody. What happened?

"Um...I don't...know." You admitted, sheepishly.

"Do you know the year, at least?" She coaxed in concern, a frown pulling at her mouth as she tucked one of her gray curls behind her ear.

"T-two...thousand..." You began. Your mouth couldn't even finish the sentence before she tutted and held your elbow.

"Okay let's get you to the hospital. You might be alright, but we wanna just make sure."

As you got to your feet, majorly disgusted by the fact that you had your head and hands on the nasty sidewalk, you grasped her hand.

"Can you please tell me what year it is?" You begged. The realization hit you in the chest at full speed.

"It's 2003, sweetheart." She answered, concern laced in her tone. "It's February 3rd, 2003."

So this was where the door led you.

You didn't want to believe it. You wanted to stifle the optimism growing in your chest, but you couldn't help the wide grin pulling at your lips. You probably looked like a crazy person.

A quick glance in a storefront window confirmed this. Your hair was a mess, you were wearing summer clothes in the winter, and you had a dazed look in your eye. But you were you. And you were HERE.

You had to find him. And FAST.

You are now entering...

NEW YORK CITY. 2003.

[thatboisus]

the fan cast for the young marauders is without a doubt one of the best fan cast i have ever seen it’s so perfect and flawless whoever is responsible seriously needs a kiss on the forehead

[everythingisromant1c]

It's Always Been You - Chapter 12

james potter x fem!reader

summary - Things hadn't gotten much better with James, and you knew you could only go so long without talking to him—after all, he was still your best friend. But, considering all that'd happened, along with some encouragement from your friends, you knew the time had come to finally admit you wanted more than that.

wc [6.2k]

a/n: alr guys ... very happy and also sad to say this is the last chapter of it's always been you!! :( i've loved every minute of writing this series as well as sharing it (its become my baby atp), and it is definitely because of all the love and support everyone reading has given it. thank u to everyone stuck around to this point, & i hope u guys enjoy this last chapter!! i send all my hugs and kisses <3 - e

all chapters | <- Chapter 11

It'd been another hour or two until everyone had fully returned from Hogsmeade and dinner was being served in the Great Hall. You finally changed out of your dress and into your everyday clothing again, already feeling better, but that didn't mean you felt good. You didn't think you could feel good when both your brain and heart were hurting like they were. And worst of all, the one person you'd go to in times like these for comfort was the same person you couldn't go to. Not now.

The girls had been doing their best to get your mind off of everything that had happened that day, aside from when Marlene profusely apologized to you for letting Potter hear her outburst in the common room.

"Although, I have to say," she admitted afterward. "I'm not completely sorry for him that he had to hear it. I may be brutal but I never tell a lie."

That fact didn't leave you as you sat with her and Lily in the Great Hall for dinner, a number of seats away from the other Marauders. You recognized with a skip in your heartbeat that James was with them, surprisingly enough since you knew how he was accustomed to skipping meals in the dining hall when he wanted to be alone, a habit you both unfortunately shared. But that didn't mean he was enjoying himself either.

You could see even from your seat down the table that he wasn't saying much, mostly keeping to himself quietly, something so out of character for him yet you'd seen him do it constantly the entire week. You wanted to yell at him and shake him silly, but you also wanted to hug him. When you caught yourself in the midst of those thoughts you turned back to your own spot at the table shamefully.

You tried to force yourself to eat, catching your friends' concerned looks at your full plate, but you didn't feel much like it. Especially not when you still felt maybe a dozen pairs of eyes on you from every corner of the Great Hall.

Even with all that'd happened since just that morning, the rumors and whatever else people had come up with to talk about had not yet been forgotten about by the school like your friends said it would be. Then you thought about whether news had spread of your disastrous date in Hogsmeade, and prayed that nobody had caught wind of that incident either. You didn't think you could handle any more of the staring.

Immediately after you had that thought, you spotted a fifth-year in Ravenclaw robes walking past your table, watching as he blatantly pointed at you as he spoke to his friend, and you looked down at your plate with hardened eyes.

You heard Marlene scoff from next to you. "Hey!" she called to the boy. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to point?"

The fifth-year didn't respond to her but looked to his friend, hurriedly taking a seat at his own table, his whispers being drowned out in the loudness of the dining hall.

Marlene fumed from next to you. "I can't believe these people. Are they really that bored with their own lives that they're so obsessed with a bloody rumor?"

You shook your head toying with your fork. "Just ignore them. That's what I've settled on doing."

She sighed from beside you and you thought that'd be the end of everything, until you heard gasps from down the table. You looked up and followed the sounds and were met with a sight not even the magic of Hogwarts could've prepared you for.

James—your James—had stood up on the bench he'd once been sitting in, and you thanked Merlin he wasn't standing fully on the table; though you had absolutely no idea what he could possibly be up to, you knew it couldn't be anything good. He cupped a hand to his mouth as your heartrate picked up.

"Can I have everyone's attention?"

He didn't have to ask twice for it. His voice boomed out loudly, something that seemed to come naturally to him, and the noise in the Great Hall had died out in a mere second until it was almost completely silent—quiet enough for you to hear the beating of your heart in your chest as you looked up at him. Your throat went dry.

"Not that it's any of anyone's business," he started confidently to the hundreds of eyes now looking at him, tone nothing but sober. "But nothing happened in the broom closet. Or in the locker room."

You felt the churning in your stomach claw up into your throat, then felt it drop back down, keeping you stationed in your seat. He didn't give much context to his declaration, but with the popularity of the topic amongst the school, it didn't seem like he needed to. His voice almost seemed to echo, all other noises drowning out as everyone stared up at him. James looked around the entire room appearing completely unafraid and you didn't know how the hell he did it; you probably looked more fearful than him.

"So," he began again, "I don't want to see or hear anyone talking about those rumors any longer. And if anyone has a problem with that, they can answer to me. Alright?"

Of course, nobody said anything then, but you could see in their eyes that they were going to listen to him. Or at least, they'd make sure they didn't get caught going against him. Maybe it was from his impenetrably confident voice or his respected status around the school, you weren't sure, but he had that unique effect on people in an almost effortless way.

When it was clear he'd gotten his point across, he scanned his eyes over the sea of students until they found yours. In a dizzying way, it felt like you were the only two in the room for a moment, as cliché as the thought sounded in your head.

You didn't know what had motivated him to do what he did, but you could see in his eyes something fragile that juxtaposed the self-assured look they'd had only seconds ago. He looked away again and stepped back down to floor level once more, not taking a moment before striding out of the Great Hall, his form disappearing seconds after.

Even without his physical presence, his action seemed to linger over the room for a moment more before chatter broke out once again. You were still frozen in place, not knowing if moving would finalize the idea that whatever just happened was real and not just part of some wild dream.

Marlene had confirmed that it definitely had happened, however, when she turned to you with her jaw dropped, an amazed but delighted sparkle in her eye. "Someone tell me you saw that too."

"Oh we saw it," rang Lily, who also looked much too happy about that fact, probably just relieved James's antics weren't centered on her for once. You could see them both staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to react. You could also see the boys in your peripheral, the three of them remaining at the table searching your face for a reaction.

Yet, all you could do was stand up and walk hurriedly towards the exit. Dozens of conversations rushed past your ears as you did, a blur of remarks ranging from "Potter's lost it" to "He's so bloody fit." Whatever they were saying, you noted with gratefulness in the back of your mind that none of the conversations were about you.

You reached the doorway and stopped once you were a safe distance away in the hallway, heaving breaths in for a moment to yourself before finding that you weren't alone. All of your friends had followed you without blinking an eye, and you didn't know whether you found it endearing or inconvenient. Though, to be fair, you didn't know where you were going. You just knew you couldn't sit there and pretend as if nothing had happened.

You blinked at the three boys who neared you with puzzled looks on each of their faces. "Did you guys know anything about this?"

"No," promised Sirius. "In fact, James has hardly said anything to us since this morning."

You shook your head to yourself, feeling breathless. "I can't ... believe he would do that."

"Really?" Lily stared at you. "I mean, it's Potter we're talking about. It's exactly something he would do."

You couldn't fight the smile that tugged on the corners of your lips even as you shook your head. You ran a hand over your hair as the blonde from next to you hit you in the shoulder.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" You frowned over at her as she stared at you expectantly. "Go to him."

You stilled, gaping at her. "What?"

"Go to him. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

You tipped your head at her like it would help you understand her better, parting your drying lips. "I thought you said he was a selfish git." You heard Remus snort from beside you.

"I did, sure," reasoned Marlene, not without a hint of pride. "But only because I thought he was ruining your chances of moving on now that you were over him. But seriously, I can see your face when you look at him." She shook her head. "That's not the look of someone who wants to move on."

Your eyes flickered over her face as she spoke, an infinite number of thoughts overtaking you. In the silence of your thinking, a Hufflepuff boy walked past the six of you in the hallway, staring all the while.

"What are you looking at?" snapped Marlene, turning to him without missing a beat. "Did you not just hear Potter?"

Like he'd heard him loud and clear, and also like he was scared of Marlene, he hurried away with his head bent forward. Satisfied, the blonde turned back to you. At your conflicted expression, she asked, "Well?"

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. "It's just that," you began, not even knowing where you were going with your rambling. "I've spent so long trying to get over him. It's not fair to myself to just forget all of that, and it definitely wasn't fair to Sebastian-"

"For Merlin's sake," cut in Lily, to your surprise. "You keep talking about what's fair and what's unfair, but what about you? What do you want?"

You stared at her, beginning to feel breathless under the eyes of all your friends. "It's not just about what I want. It's not that simple."

"But what if it is?" she questioned. "I know how difficult this has all been for you. And I know you said Potter doesn't just get to realize his feelings for you and suddenly be with you, that it doesn't work like that. But what if it does?" She raised her hands at her sides. "Not everything is a perfect story to tell. Especially not when it comes to you two. It's not every day you fall in love with your best friend and he finally sees that he's fallen for you too. Are you seriously going to let him go because of some made-up system of rules?"

Your breath was becoming staggering now, and you didn't know what to think, because everything they were telling you sounded so right.

"I don't know," you began unsurely. "Of course, I don't want to lose him. Not talking to him for the past week has been harder than I ever could've imagined. I don't even know what it would feel like to have to do it for longer than I already have been." You blinked down at your shoes, truly realizing those things at the same rate you said them. "I think I just ... miss him."

"Of course you miss him." Marlene looked at you sympathetically. "That's why I think you should go tell all this to him."

You felt bile rising in your throat. "I don't even know if he'd want to see me after all we've said to each other."

"Are you joking?" Remus butted in exasperatedly. "Prongs is bloody in love with you. Can't you see that?"

"Remus," you warned softly because you didn't know how much more of this hope you could take before you did something you'd regret.

"I'm telling the truth." His voice was heavy with meaning. "Maybe it took him a while to realize it himself, but the rest of us have had to sit back and watch you both act like you don't have feelings for each other for years. Believe me, the only reason he's in his room right now and not with you is because he thinks that's what you want."

Your brows pinched. "You can't truly know that."

"Really?" he laughed. "What do you think we talked about that night Vance asked you out?"

Your expression faltered and you forced yourself to think back to the night James had begun acting distant from you, though it wasn't difficult to, the storyline of it all clicking into place in your head.

"You," breathed Remus. "We talked about you."

"Not to mention," Sirius added, "we're the ones who've had to spend every night in our dorm listening to him bitch and moan about Vance this and Vance that." You swallowed at your friends' words, but they didn't quit.

"And we know James was being a right idiot today," Sirius insisted honestly. "But you should've seen him this morning right after you two argued. He was heartbroken. More than he'd ever been over Evans." He turned to the redhead in question. "No offense, Evans."

Lily rolled her eyes lightheartedly. "Trust me, Black, none taken."

He nodded and turned back to you swiftly. "So for you to think that James would want anything other than to fix things with you and just be with you is bloody mental."

You stared at all of your friends who were looking so determinedly back at you that you didn't think you could tell them 'no' now. But still, your feet didn't budge.

"It's not just that," you almost whispered. "I guess I'm just ... scared. What if it goes wrong and we get into some ridiculous fight again? What then?"

Marlene took a hold of your shoulders, slightly scaring you in her resoluteness. "Potter just stood up and yelled at the entire bloody school and you're trying to tell us you'rescared?" She shook you a little, and your friends smirked from behind her. "Be a Gryffindor for Godric's sake! Go to him!"

Before you could say anything more, she was turning you around and shoving you a little until you had the momentum you needed to take steps toward the Gryffindor common room. You made it all the way up the nearest set of steps before you paused, turning back to your friends with a grateful smile.

"Thank you, you guys." You expected them to share the sweet moment with you, but they only rolled their eyes.

"Go, woman!" Sirius groaned, and you rolled your eyes back at them, but it lacked any real annoyance.

You didn't know exactly what you were planning on doing, but you didn't have time to think about it because your legs were carrying you speedily through the halls in your anxious state and wouldn't let you stop until you reached the portrait entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Taking a steadying breath in, you said the password and entered the room.

With everyone else still being at dinner in the Great Hall, it wasn't exactly difficult to find James. He sat in the common room, his brunette head of curls visible to you in the low light. They covered the majority of his face that you could see, his head tipped downwards with his elbows resting on his knees. That changed within the blink of an eye as you entered the room, his head swiftly lifting until he locked eyes with you, and you had to fight a shiver at the feeling it sent shuddering through you.

He seemed to think you were just going to go to your own dorm and ignore him, and he averted his eyes to look somewhere else, maybe the fireplace, until you left—but you didn't. You only walked closer to him until you were separated by only one of the couches, the distance still small enough to make your breathing quicken.

At the soundlessness of your stilled footsteps, James looked back up and met your eyes again, and he swallowed. Clearly, he hadn't expected you to make any move to talk to him that night, even after the scene he'd made in the Great Hall. The problem was that you hadn't expected yourself to either, and now you didn't know what you wanted to say first, because there were certainly a million things you had to make sure he knew.

"Thank you," you said, because you figured it was a good place to start. He nodded up at you, his eyes not revealing much of anything, but you didn't let that sway you. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

"Of course I did." His voice was stubborn, but too sincere for how little his expression gave away.

You looked down at your feet, letting a moment pass before speaking again. "Well, now it seems like everyone is going to be talking about you from now on."

"That doesn't matter to me." James's voice cut through the air richly, and when you looked back up from the floor he was staring at you meaningfully. "They can say whatever the hell they want. As long as they're not talking about you."

Your shoulders dropped at his words, and the way he held your eyes as he said them made your heart beat faster in your chest. It hadn't even been a full day since you'd last spoken to him, but you already missed him.

"They wouldn't leave you alone," he said concretely, his tone beginning to fill with emotion. "And then, I heard what Marlene said in the common room, about some girl harassing you in the library? I-" he shook his head frustratedly, rubbing at his forehead with one of his hands. "I'm just mad at myself that I've let it go on for this long. Or that I didn't even know that happened."

You already felt too emotional for your liking, the feelings inside of you swirling more aggressively at every word he said to you. "It's not like it's your fault, James."

"Well it's not like I did much to stop it, did I?" He seemed genuinely angry at himself now, and you didn't know what you could do to help. A painful lump was rising in your throat, but you stayed rooted in your spot behind the sofa. "And I'd ask you why you didn't come and tell me, but that'd be a bloody stupid question."

He shook his head, eyes becoming wistful like he was recalling a memory, one that pained him. "Earlier, when Marlene was defending you in the common room, the look on your face was ... I don't know. Crushed. Sad."

You swallowed at the memory, because that had been exactly how you were feeling, amongst thousands of other ways. James looked down at his lap.

"I just wanted to try and help, do anything to make that look on your face go away, but I couldn't. So I just kept replaying how you looked in my head, and the more I thought about it, the more I hated myself because I realized you were only hurting because of me. And that was the worst part. Realizing that it was all my fault."

You felt yourself wanting to take a step towards him, wanting to just reach out to him as the tips of your fingers teemed with the longing you felt in your chest. "James," you began, your voice hushed. "It's not all your fault."

You meant it. To try and say to yourself that you had no part in all the confusion between the two of you would be a blatant lie, one that you couldn't let James go on believing, especially not with the pained look on his face.

He only shook his head at you. "It is," he insisted. "And here you go, being perfect towards me when I don't deserve it." A muscle worked overtime in his jaw. "Marlene was right. I was being selfish, and petty, and a lot of other things, but most importantly, I wasn't being a good friend." He paused, a grieving confliction tugging at his brow. "That's ... that's not what friends do."

You went still then too, the word 'friend' hanging in the air between you with a weight that only made you tired. The truth was that cobwebs had grown in the house where you'd fostered that unforgiving title, and it felt like some intangible force had locked you both inside with it blindly.

"Yeah, well," you began, your voice small, "we've been doing plenty of things that friends don't do, lately.Like you said, we kissed, right?" You let out a breathy sound like a laugh that lacked any joy, and the way James's eyes flickered up at you knocked the rest of the air right out of you.

"About that," he began hesitantly, and you could tell he was thinking about both the night it'd happened and that morning when you'd fought, just like you were. "I know you don't want that to mean anything, so it- ... it doesn't have to. Even if I want it to. Because it doesn't matter what I want—what matters to me is you."

You were thankful you had the couch next to you to brace a hand on, because you'd never felt so swept up by a conversation and you weren't sure how much longer you could stand the way your heart was nagging at you.

"You were right," swore James, but the slight shake of his eyes back and forth on your face didn't look as adamant as he sounded. "It's not fair for me to expect something from you when you already got over me."

The words you'd shouted at him in Hogsmeade that morning sounded foreign and wrong coming from his lips, and you knew the months of dishonesty that laced them like you knew the back of your hand.

"And it's too late now, I get that." His voice went from deep and determined to on the cusp of breaking, and it killed you. "I just want to know that you're happy, and if being happy means being with Vance instead of me, then ... I can deal with that."

You watched as he swallowed, like he was forcing the words to come from his lips even if it pained him. The way he hadn't broken eye contact with you the whole while was starting to make your head spin.

Your blinking sped up, maybe holding back the emotion you knew you was fighting to come out, and you whispered, "James."

Maybe you hadn't been loud enough, or maybe he just knew you'd try to disagree with him again, but he only continued determinedly at you.

"I know I probably went and ruined your chances with Vance, like an idiot, but I'm going to do whatever it takes to get you another date with him." He nodded at you once firmly, and within a second he was standing up, taking an intentional step forward. "Hell, I'll even go talk to him right now and-"

"James," you called again, louder this time. "Stop."

You put a hand out and it landed on his arm softly but firmly, and all you could was pray you could find the right words to say to him as he stared at you, level with you now in an unsteadying way.

"You didn't ruin my chances with Sebastian. It wouldn't have worked out regardless, even if I'd wanted it to. Because being with him isn't what I want." You shook your head, recalling back what James had said to you only moments before. "He wouldn't have made me happy." You sounded desperate now. "He's not you."

James stilled, his glistening eyes the only thing showing movement as they danced across your face intensely, though you saw them widen with something bright like hope. "What?"

The confusion of the word that he'd practically whispered out unspeakably attested to how you felt yourself, the terrain of the land you were exploring right there and then with James uncharted and rocky. You pushed on, knowing there was no going back now.

"Marlene wasn't completely right, James. She only said all of those things because I'd spent all this time trying to convince her—and myself—that I didn't still have feelings for you. But I do, clearly." You tipped your head down for a moment in exasperation and exhaustion, willing yourself to keep going. "Everyone can see it. All of our friends. Hell, even Sebastian could see it." You laughed, though your eyes were growing blurry. "So for me to try to push those feelings down any longer would just be lying to you and to myself." You let out an exasperated breath. "And I'm so sick of lying."

Your shoulders sunk as you stood there, a steadily shrinking distance between you and James that was both comforting and daunting to you. You couldn't do anything but watch as James's face stilled and then shifted as he thought, studying your own face in a way that made you conscious of every shift in your expression.

"I just," he began, and then raked a hand through his hair. "Why did you feel like you needed to hide how you felt in the first place?"

You felt your mouth go dry at the question—one you knew came only out of a desperate curiosity and nothing else—and your mind began spinning. The last few years of your friendship seemed to swirl in your head, flickering in and out of focus as you tried to come up with an answer.

"I-" you began, willing yourself to say something, anything at all. "I was scared." The words rang true so much that they made your heart pinch. "Scared that you wouldn't feel the same and I'd go and ruin everything. That I'd lose you."

James's hands lifted up from his sides like he wanted to reach out to you, and he did. He took your hand in his, grasping lightly at your fingertips in a touch that steadied you and made you feel lightheaded at the same time. He shook his head at you with a firm hold in his brow.

"You could never lose me."

His lips were parted, and his hazel eyes glistened over in the low common room lighting like the thought of your suggestion was painful enough on its own. Looking at him then, his face lined with years of a comforting, steadying familiarity, you knew deep in your chest that what he said was true. But that didn't alter all that you'd felt for the past number of years.

"It's not just that," you said, looking down at his hand that held yours and blinking away the guilt that crept into your stomach, because it wasn't James's fault that you had felt this way. "Even in Hogsmeade, James." Your voice was becoming unsteady again and it only frustrated you more. "What if everything you said you felt for me was just some spur-of-the-moment thing from some kiss? What if you didn't feel the same way a week from now? Or a month? I knew I wouldn't be able to get over that fear. Especially when I'd been hiding how I felt from you for years. And then there were your feelings for Lily to think about and ... I don't know."

You trailed off, finally able to stop yourself. You felt petty, so petty, because you were so close to getting what you knew your heart wanted, but you felt the insistent need to ruin things for yourself and think of every way things could go wrong. You'd never felt closer to James then, but also never farther away. All you could do was stand there and wait for him to say something, anything.

James stayed unmoving for a beat staring at you, wordlessly taking everything in with a fragility in the air that hallowed your labored breathing. Then he started to shake his head like he was in disbelief. He ran a hand through his brown hair.

"For Merlin's sake."

His voice was low, a mutter, and he stared at the ground for a moment in thought before dropping the hand that once held yours, turning and walking away from you, leaving up the steps to his dorm room. You watched his back as he disappeared, your fingertips feeling cold and empty.

You felt your blinking speed up in a dizzying confusion. You didn't know what had come over you, not even sure exactly what you'd said in all of your desperate rambling that had made him decide to leave, but your vision started to blur even more than it already had until you recognized the wetness forming beside your eyes.

Nothing made sense. Not then, and not in the last twenty-four hours. You moved until you were sitting down on the couch in front of you, feeling lightheaded as the fireplace crackled a few feet away. The light from outside had left with the sun and the room had a comforting kind of warm lighting, though even that did little to soothe you as you sat there with all the unresolved feelings within you.

You were confused and lost and wanted nothing more than to just fix things, but you were even more at a loss for words when you heard quick footsteps coming from the staircase James had left from, and then saw his returning form making its way down the steps.

You turned your head to him swiftly in confusion, following him and his soft but energetic steps as he came to sit next to you, and that was when you noticed he was holding something—a box. One that was tattered on the corners, its black fabric aged and dusting over.

You wiped at your eyes quickly, brows tugging in all your bewilderment as you waited for James to explain.

"I-" he began, and stopped as soon as his eyes focused more on your face. You must've looked as broken as you felt, and at seeing the look on your face, he held one of your hands in his before swiping across your cheek gently with the pad of his thumb.

You felt like wilting under his soft touch that you'd missed more than anything in the confusing weeks, mentally and physically exhausted from everything but still wanting more than anything to understand.

When you looked perhaps more stable, he looked back at the box that he'd set down beside him and placed it on his lap delicately as he spoke, his words echoing out slowly.

"I know you think I've just realized my feelings for you a week ago, and that they came from some kiss at a party. But, you have to believe me when I say that they're so much more than that." He placed the box in your hands, and you took it from him with a note of fragility, resting it atop your legs. His eyes bore into yours, like it would break him if you couldn't understand the words leaving his lips. He took a shaky breath in. "I need you to know, more than anything, that you're everything to me. You always have been."

Your lips began to shake at the earth-shattering words coming from your best friend's lips. "James, what-"

He stopped you with a gesture of his head that told you to look inside the box, and you did. Carefully, you lifted the flimsy cardboard top and placed it to the side, brows pulling together tight and something loud and hearty threatening to pull from your chest. You shook your head as tears began to well over your eyes again as you recognized what James had given you.

The box, the measly and old mess of cardboard and paper, was full of all the letters you'd written to him over the years—all the thank you notes, the letters you'd sent him from that summer and all the past ones—every single one of them. Your eyes raked over each of them when you felt too stunned to use your hands, but your heart still felt touched by the memories of each one all the same. It took everything in you not to release the sob you felt rising in your lungs.

"It's you. It's always been you."

James's eyes never left your face as you took everything in, the look behind them never having seemed so determined, so desperate. But there was something behind the way he looked at you, something so warm and honest, so familiar that you felt ridiculous for never noticing it before. And when your gaze flickered downward for a second in contemplation he tipped his head to follow it endearingly.

"Always," he promised. "Not Evans, not anyone else. I know I'm a bloody idiot, and I know I haven't been great at showing my emotions when it comes to you, but that's because it's you, and you mean everything to me and have since we were kids, and if this can't make you see that then I promise I'll spend every day trying to make up for it, and-"

"James." You stopped him, not knowing how much longer you could take sitting next to him and not getting rid of the frustrated crease between his brows, or how much longer you could ignore the thrum of your heart that called out to him so clearly now.

"Yeah?" he asked, and his eyes were like a deer in headlights. The warmth in their color reflected the simmering warmth from the fireplace, but that didn't compare to the fire that lay behind his gaze.

You placed the box, his box of the last six years of your friendship and then some, atop the couch next to you, and didn't wait another second before engulfing him in a hug. Your body crashed into his as he leaned back against the couch, his hands coming up to embrace you right away, and you heard him breathe a smile by your ear before he laughed, a perfect noise.

You felt like laughing then too, and crying, and everything else, because you couldn't remember the last time you'd gotten to hold him like this without the fear of revealing too much to him nagging at you. Your cheek pressed against his neck, his curls fanned against the top of your head, his hands held you tight, and you never wanted to leave the safety of his arms. Except to do one thing.

You pulled away from the hug and so did James after a second, his eyes wide and glistening but truly happy. He was smiling widely, his lopsided grin appearing after days like the sun after a storm, and you loved the sight more than anything, locking it away in the back of your mind as a memory you'd keep forever, like the box that sat next to you.

You laid a hand on his chest, another on his cheek, and James grasped the one that was flattened on his chest in his own, quickly glancing down at your hand in his like he couldn't believe he was holding it. He pulled you into him with it and leaned his head on yours.

"It's always been you, too," you whispered, and his eyes glanced down at your lips as you said the quiet words that'd been lingering on your lips for much too long. You had to push away your smile because you were aching to just kiss him like you'd wanted to for years. With a courage that could've only come from Godric himself, you finally did.

You leaned in until your lips met, a flutter of skin dancing shyly together until you leaned into him even further, and suddenly it felt like the crash of a wave, and sounded like the earth was moving beneath your feet, the sound of something right—and this time, you knew it felt the same for him too, because you could feel his boyish grin that you'd spent years admiring tugging against your lips.

You were kissing your best friend. For real this time. It felt so impossible for your mind to imagine such a thing, but luckily it didn't have to.

James moved his hands but they never left you, one sliding through your hair smoothly and one delicately holding your waist like you were something fragile. Butterflies fluttered through you at his touch, something familiar but foreign, wrong but also right, and somessilyperfect. You couldn't believe you'd spent all those years just a few words away from getting to feel it, getting to be surrounded by it.

You pulled away after a moment, your lips feeling puffy and burning with the heat of his kiss, but all you could think about was how free you felt, how happy you were that he was finally yours.

James looked down at you, his eyes dancing all across your face and stopping on your lips, and then somehow growing even warmer when they met yours again.

"I can't-" he began with a slight disbelieving shake of his head, voice coming out breathless and dazed as heat flushed into your own cheeks at the sight. "I can't believe..."

You laughed, feeling out of breath too, and adjusted the glasses that now perched crookedly on James's nose in an agonizingly cute way.

"Me neither," you finished for him, because you knew just how he felt, a secret the both of you shared; it was the only secret you still wanted to keep.

And it was a feeling you never wanted to have to live without again. Though now, with him in your arms and his familiar chocolate curls still brushing against your forehead, you knew you would never have to.

taglist!!

@hisparentsgallerryy @msmk11 @garfieldsladybird @empath-bunny @urmykindofwoman @bambi-jp @babyclea @kenjikishimotoswifey @cloudroomblog @the-marauders-mapp @mooonyxoxo @imgondeletedis @moon-flowerrs @fruticake @arey0usirius @marauroon @swiftsgirlfriend @jamieolivia27 @magicwithaknife

[ellswritings]

Like I Can

James Potter x Reader

TW: Cute fluff, idiots in love, mutual pining.

Based on “Like I Can” by Sam Smith 🫶

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚🦋˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚🦋˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚🦋˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡

The Quidditch pitch buzzed with excitement as Gryffindor’s final match of the season drew to a close. Y/N, perched confidently on her broomstick, was a force to be reckoned with as the team’s Keeper. James Potter, the ever-charismatic Seeker, soared high above the game, his eyes darting between the Snitch and his favorite distraction: her.

She blocked yet another shot from Slytherin’s Chasers with a deft flick of her wrist. The crowd erupted into cheers, but James barely registered them. His focus lingered on her—her determination, her skill, the way her smile lit up the entire pitch. She was brilliant. And yet, there she was, constantly entertaining the advances of the most undeserving blokes.

By the time James caught the Snitch, securing Gryffindor’s victory, Y/N was already back on the ground, laughing with the team. But his celebratory mood soured when he saw who had approached her: Marcus Flint, a smarmy Slytherin with a reputation for sweet-talking girls.

“Brilliant saves today, Y/L/N,” Marcus drawled, leaning in closer than necessary. “I bet you’d look just as good off the pitch.”

Y/N’s laughter rang out, though James could tell it was more polite than genuine. Still, the fact that she humored him made James’ blood boil.

He shoves his glasses higher up his nose and turns to Sirius, who was already grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“She’s just being polite,” James muttered, as Sirius slung an arm around his shoulders.

“Polite?” Sirius barked a laugh. “Mate, she’s practically inviting him to Hogsmeade with that smile.”

Remus, who had just walked over, gave James a look. “You could just tell her how you feel, you know. Instead of standing here glaring holes into the poor bloke.”

“And miss out on watching this love triangle unfold?” Peter chimed in, grinning.

James ignored them, opting instead to yell, “Team meeting in five minutes!” just loud enough to interrupt Y/N’s conversation. She glanced at him, raising an eyebrow, before turning back to the Slytherin.

This was only the beginning.

In the library, Y/N and Remus often sat together, their heads bent over books. James would join them under the pretense of studying, though he spent most of his time watching Y/N.

“James, you’ve been staring at the same page for fifteen minutes,” Y/N said, raising an eyebrow. “Need some help?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, sliding his Potions textbook toward her. “Think you can save me from another Howler from Mum?”

Y/N chuckled, flipping through the pages. “Alright, but only because I’m feeling generous. Start by not adding twice as much dragon liver as the recipe calls for.”

“See, this is why I need you,” James said with a mock-serious expression. “You’re the brains of this operation.”

“And you’re the charm, I suppose?” Y/N replied, smirking.

“Obviously,” James said, winking. “It’s a good thing I’ve got you to balance me out.”

On top of being the most obnoxious and charming students in the school, The Marauders’ pranks were legendary, and Y/N quickly became a member of their mischief-making crew her first year. She and Sirius made an especially chaotic duo, often dragging James and Remus into their schemes.

“Are you sure this will work?” James asked, eyeing the enchanted balloons they’d filled with color-changing paint.

“Of course it will,” Y/N said confidently, handing him a balloon. “Just aim for Filch’s office window.”

“I thought you were the sensible one,” Remus muttered, though he was already holding a balloon of his own.

“Sometimes, sensible is boring,” Y/N replied with a mischievous grin.

As the first balloon hit its target, exploding in a burst of green and gold paint, the group dissolved into laughter. James couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so carefree.

About a week or so later, the Marauders found themselves at the Three Broomsticks. James had hoped for a quiet afternoon, but when Y/N entered, arm-in-arm with a cocky Hufflepuff who had clearly overdosed on self-confidence, his mood soured.

“Oi, Prongs,” Sirius teased, nudging James’s arm. “There’s your girl.”

“She’s not my girl,” James snapped, though his eyes were glued to Y/N as she laughed at something the Hufflepuff said.

“She could be,” Remus pointed out, his tone calm but pointed. “If you actually said something.”

James groaned, sinking into his seat. “She wouldn’t be interested. Look at her! She’s... brilliant. And she’s dating that git.”

Peter snorted. “She’s humoring him, mate. Big difference.”

But James couldn’t take his friends’ advice. Instead, he found himself watching from the sidelines, frustration mounting as the Hufflepuff leaned too close and Y/N laughed a little too hard.

“Doesn’t it bother you to have such overprotective friends?” Dorian McMaster, the Hufflepuff Y/N agreed to hang out with for the day asks her. His eyes narrow over at James and the other boys who are now trying to pretend they weren’t just staring at her.

The (h/c) haired girl shrugs, “I wouldn’t call them overprotective,” she defends.

“Then why haven’t they stopped staring at you since we walked in?” He asks with an almost disgusted expression.

“Because they probably want me to go say hi?” Y/N tilts her head. “I don’t know. I’m not them.”

“I’m getting real sick of that Potter,” Dorian grumbles. “He thinks he owns everything.”

Y/N puts her hand up to stop him, “Well, first of all, he doesn’t think he owns anything. Second of all, if you’re implying what I think you are, I can confidently tell you that I am not something that can be owned.”

Dorian rolls his eyes, “Look, all I’m saying is that you agreed to come here with me. That git needs to back off.”

Y/N laughs lowly before standing from her seat. She shakes her head with a dangerous smile, “Just because your father happens to be the head of the Department of Mysteries doesn’t give you a right to act like an entitled prat. James isn’t a git, but it seems you are.” She smooths over her robe, “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Are you gonna go after her?” Remus looks at James expectantly as they watch Y/N saunter out of the Three Broomsticks, leaving a fuming Dorian behind.

James looks after the girl, a battle going on inside of his mind. “No,” he finally mumbles with a sigh. “She doesn’t need me hovering.”

Sirius, Remus, and Peter all collectively groan, rolling their eyes at his ignorance. It’s rather irritating watching the two of them constantly play cat and mouse with one another. It’s clear to everyone but them that they are head over heels for one another.

“Ten galleons says he cracks by the end of the month,” Remus whispers over to Peter and Sirius as James continues staring longingly at the door Y/N just walked out of.

“I’ll take that action.”

Weeks passed, and James Potter’s resolve wavered. The relentless teasing from his friends only made things worse, especially as Y/N continued to attract attention from boys who couldn’t possibly see her the way he did. She wasn’t just beautiful; she was brilliant, witty, and fiercely independent. She had passed all her O.W.L.s with Outstanding marks and still somehow found time to pull pranks with him and Sirius. To James, she was everything.

It was maddening. Every smile she gave to someone else, every laugh she shared, every time another boy got too close. The jealousy gnawed at him like a persistent itch he couldn’t scratch. If only she knew how much space she occupied in his thoughts, how he wanted nothing more than to sweep her off her feet and show her what they could be together. He just needed a chance—one chance to prove he was the one for her.

The breaking point came during one of Slughorn’s infamous parties. James arrived late, his confidence faltering the moment he saw her. She was on the arm of yet another admirer, a Ravenclaw seventh-year who prided himself on his intellect. James couldn’t take his eyes off her. She wore a dress that shimmered with every movement, and her laughter carried across the room like a melody he couldn’t ignore.

The Ravenclaw boy leaned in to whisper something in her ear, and she smiled, but James noticed the slight distance in her expression. When the boy’s hand drifted a little too low on her back, James’ restraint snapped. He drained his goblet of punch, handed it off to Sirius with a muttered, “Wish me luck,” and crossed the room.

“Y/N, can I have a word?” he asked, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

She looked up at him, surprised, and then turned to her date, who seemed ready to protest. “I’ll be right back,” she said, brushing off the boy’s attempts to intervene. James felt a surge of satisfaction as she followed him to a quieter corner of the room.

James took a deep breath, gathering his courage. His heart pounded as the words tumbled out before he could stop them. “No matter how many guys you date, they’ll never treat you the way I can. They don’t see you—not really. They don’t know how brilliant you are, how funny, how you scrunch your nose when you’re annoyed. They don’t know you like I do.” He paused, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “They can be the most famous bloke in London, or some homeless man on the street, but they’ll never be me. I know it’s meant to be you and I.”

Y/N stared at him, her eyes wide with something he couldn’t quite place. Then, to his horror, she smirked.

“James Potter, are you confessing your undying love for me?” she teased, her voice laced with amusement.

James ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit she’d always found endearing. “I’m serious, Y/N. I—”

“I’m just joking,” she interrupted, her smirk softening into a gentle smile. “I’ve always known, James.”

His breath hitched. “And?”

“And you’re an idiot for waiting this long,” she replied, stepping closer. “But I suppose that means you’re my idiot.”

The world seemed to fade away as she closed the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was long overdue. It was soft and electrifying all at once, a culmination of years of unspoken feelings. James felt like he was floating, his heart soaring higher than any Quidditch match ever could.

From across the room, Sirius clapped Remus on the back, the latter groaning as he handed over ten galleons. “Should’ve bet on the party,” he muttered.

Later that night, as James walked Y/N back to the Gryffindor common room, their hands intertwined, he couldn’t help but grin like an idiot. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“So, Potter,” she said, “does this mean you’re finally going to stop glaring at every boy who talks to me?”

“Not a chance,” he replied, pulling her closer. “But they’ll never stand a chance now, will they?”

She laughed, and the sound was music to his ears. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he quipped, his grin widening.

As they stepped into the common room, Sirius and Remus were waiting by the fire, their faces alight with poorly disguised glee.

“Finally!” Sirius exclaimed, throwing his arms up dramatically. “Do you know how exhausting it’s been watching you two dance around each other?”

“Subtle as always, Padfoot,” Y/N said dryly, though her smile betrayed her amusement.

Remus chuckled, closing his book. “We’re happy for you both. Truly.”

James glanced at Y/N, his chest swelling with pride and affection. “Thanks, Moony. Means a lot.”

Sirius leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, Y/N, now that you’re officially part of the Potter package, does this mean you’ll help us prank the Slytherins next week?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smirk. “What makes you think I wasn’t already involved?”

James burst out laughing, pulling her into a side hug. “That’s my girl.”

In the days that followed, James found himself unable to keep his hands to himself. Whether it was brushing his fingers against hers in the corridors or slinging an arm around her shoulders during meals, he reveled in the newfound closeness. But the jealousy lingered, bubbling to the surface whenever someone dared to flirt with her.

One afternoon in the library, a Slytherinboy approached Y/N, clearly smitten. James watched from across the room, his jaw tightening as the boy leaned a little too close. When Y/N caught James’ eye and winked, he relaxed marginally, though he still made a point to saunter over and plant a possessive kiss on her cheek.

“Hey, love,” he said casually, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Everything alright here?”

The Slytherin stammered an excuse and quickly retreated, leaving Y/N to shake her head in exasperation.

“Was that really necessary?” she asked, though her tone was more amused than annoyed.

“Absolutely,” James replied, grinning. “Can’t have anyone forgetting who you belong to.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smile. “You’re lucky I find your jealousy endearing.”

“Lucky doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Their relationship quickly became the talk of the school, much to James’ delight. He wore his love for Y/N like a badge of honor, unashamed and unapologetic. And while Y/N occasionally pretended to be annoyed by his antics, she secretly adored the way he made her feel like the center of his universe.

As the year progressed, the Marauders found countless ways to tease James, but he took it all in stride. After all, he had Y/N by his side, and that was all that mattered. Together, they were unstoppable—a perfect match in every sense of the word.

[maybe-moonchild]

CH1 summary: you might have won but you’re still the biggest loser. WC: 5.7K

⋆˙𓋼𓍊 ⋆⭒𓆣˚.𓍊 ⋆𓆙

“The fuck was that Kaston?” you called out the moment your feet touched the grass. You had a white knuckle grip on your broom in one hand, storming across the pitch towards your teammate. Not even the cheers and screams from the Slytherin section could remedy the crackle of anger in our chest. 

Elias Kaston lolled his head in your direction over his shoulder, a smirk only growing at the sight of your pink cheeks and clenched teeth. Alder and Jordan snickered behind him as they folded their arms over their chest in an attempt to play his groupies. 

As Slytherin’s captain, you should’ve been ecstatic over the win. You had been the one working your ass off all year to secure the 1976 Quidditch House Cup. 

Except you had spent the entire game trying to score while also dodging the bludgers Kaston had intentionally sent your way.

It had been intentional in order to- what? Knock you off your broom? Kill you? At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had been hoping you would snap your neck before halftime. 

You’d managed to evade most of them, still going after the quaffle and shooting at the goals as they whizzed past your head at the very last second. All of them, aside from one that you hadn’t seen from behind, whipping around at the last second as it connected roughly with your shoulder. The momentum sent you flipping over your broom and nearly plummeting fifty feet. Thank Merlin you managed to keep a grip on the handle and haul yourself back on over the cheers from the crowd. 

“Got a problem?” Kaston barely put any effort into feigning innocence. Why would he? He wants you to know that he’s so determined to get rid of you that he’s willing to sacrifice his own team's win to do so. He stands a bit straighter to emphasize his lack of fear. 

“Yeah! You.” You closed  the distance without hesitation, coming to stop at his feet. If you weren’t seething, all consumed how disheartening this season had been even with the frequent wins. 

A few heads turned in your direction but most of the Gryffindor team was reconvening around their captain. The students in the stands were too busy shuffling towards the stairs, disappointed in the outcome of the match, and not even interested in staying  to cheer while others outright booed. 

You didn’t care. Not when you’re practically boiling under your uniform in animosity for the slimy asshole that has a head on you in height. 

“Seriously Kaston,” Keith scoffed, jogging to catch up as back up in the form of his fists. “Someone could’ve gotten seriously injured.” 

At the sound of his voice, Lance glanced over from his spot with the Gryffindor team, frowning wearily at the scene unfolding. You were sure the last thing that Lance wanted was to break Keith up from a fight right after Keith had been one to catch the snitch. 

This time, you would happily and personally punch Kaston himself. 

You’d been fighting with your teammates all year since Slughorn had named you captain at the start of sixth year. Things had never been particularly warm between you and your team, but you had always made it work the best you could. The other chasers eventually would give in and pass you the quaffle during a match to prevent losing. 

This year, it seemed that they didn’t mind losing at the expense of undermining everything you did. Half the team showed up on a given practice; those that did barely listened to you.

Your clothes had been stolen from your locker multiple times following a morning practice which made you have to return to your common room to shower, therefore were late to class. You’d received some broom handles to the ribs, quaffles to the head, and the occasional full on body slam. 

It didn’t matter that you were captain or that you had managed to get your team to win the cup, all you would ever be reduced to was your blood status; muggleborn. 

“What?” Kaston pouted, head cocking to the side. “Would’ve thought you’d be able to handle yourself.”

Stiffening, you barely let him finish, “You almost threw the match!”

 If you weren’t so pissed, you would be impressed at how you don’t back away, standing chest to chest and unrelenting in holding his eye. You were done being intimidated. “If you would've just played like you were supposed to, then I wouldn't have had to do your job out there."

"Maybe you're just not as good as you think you are," Elerin cut in, shooting you a pitiful look that made your face even redder. You were as good as you thought you were, maybe even better. You had spent the entire game scoring the most points and evading bludgers without assistance.

"Maybe you should back the hell off," Keith snapped. His shoulder bumped yours as he stepped forward, a reminder that you had backup from one of your best friends that had also been your only teammate to listen to you. 

You were quickly gaining the attention of the players on the field. One of those players was Lance, who sighed at the realization that resolve wasn’t going to magically appear. He shook his head in disappointment, tearing himself away from his own team, jogging towards the altercation. 

“What? Can’t fight your own battles?” Kaston smirked. “Gotta have the blood-traitor fight them for you?”

You didn’t miss a beat as you stepped into his space. “Want me to show you just how well I can fight my own battles?”

"Woah, woah, woah," Lance attempted to satiate as he approached. Given Keith’s more ‘hot-headed’ tendencies, Lance placed a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to snap him out of it. All Keith did was shake him off. 

You didn’t even pay attention, refusing to break under the leering look Kaston was ecstatic to give. Clearly he had been waiting for you to snap all year. 

"That so?" Kaston didn’t back down either as he leaned even closer, making sure you didn’t miss the amusement in his eyes as yours were set hard. It was a challenge. 

One you weren’t backing down from.

“Absolutely.”

You willed him to hit you. To lay one single finger on you which would let you punch that arrogant little look off of his pinched face. You didn't start fights, but you’d sure as hell finish this one.

"What's going on?"

"Kaston sucks at quidditch,” Keith chirped to Lance's question, making sure it didn’t fall on deaf ears. 

"Don’t forget that he's also an asshole," you spit back. Something lit up in Kaston’s eyes, something that would've seemed like excitement if it didn’t seem tinged with poison. It seemed as though everything had become more and more tinged with poison each ear. 

"You think you're better?" His friends snickered behind him as he barked out a laugh, his breath tickling your face. "Maybe you're not as good as you think. Maybe you're just a filthy little mudblood."

The word cut through the air. 

Your shock showed in the way your eyes widened a fraction of the inch and your face softened. You weren't the only one, most of the students that had moved closer to watch, seemed stunned at the bold use of the word. 

For six years war had plagued the wizarding world, the same year you began at Hogwarts. The peers that had been sorted the same day you had become more opinionated as they neared adulthood. Their parents' ideologies shaped their offspring's opinions to bring hatred towards muggles into the castle. 

People were getting bolder. It was one thing to hear ‘mudblood’ whispered behind your back, hissed in your ear from someone sitting behind you in class. 

This was… something just seemed to change right then and there. 

Kaston, seemingly satisfied at your reaction, straightened and you could no longer smell his sweat still clinging to his jersey. The blood rushing in your ears drowned out the sounds of the few whispers making it around the players, some of the lingering students in the stands taking note of the scene. 

Everyone would know about what happened within the day. 

Keith recovered first, stepping up so he was standing at your side. Yet again, Lance tried to cool him down with a hand on his shoulder. That was all he did, opting to keep his mouth shut because of his own blood status and not even you could blame him for that. Maybe you would’ve said something if you could have thought of anything to actually say. 

Just one thing, one word to pretend you didn’t feel like the bludger had successfully knocked you from your broom, sending you to land in a heap of crunched bones and flesh. That would’ve been less mortifying. 

Luckily, Coach Weaver shouted from where she was hurrying to break up a fight before it could begin. She had been the keeper for the Holyhead Harpies for years before retiring after a successful career, becoming Hogwarts’s current quidditch coach and professor. 

"Hey! Hey, what's going on here? Kaston and- Oi! Back it up. Both of you!"

Neither of you moved but it didn’t seem to matter when she was pushing both of you away from the other. You bumped into Keith, his hand wrapping around your upper arm to steady you. You didn’t forfeit the stare down. 

Alder nudged Kaston who stepped back. The smug smiles on both of their faces were enough to make you wish you had said fuck it and decked him right in the face anyway.

“I’m serious you two, deal with it after you’ve cooled down.” Glancing between you two, it was clear Madam Weaver chalked it up to being a petty fight about a play or a missed goal.

When it was clear that Kaston did not plan on leaving the pitch first, Lance tugged at Keith to move, which in turn, made him tug at you. You stayed rooted to the grass, wanting so badly to stand up for yourself or shove the asshole just so you could relieve some of the pressure of the emotions building in your chest. 

Instead, you begrudgingly let Keith pull you a few steps until your feet worked. You pushed past your friends, letting them hurry behind you towards the locker room. The feel of everyone's staring at the back of your head made your eyes sting with embarrassment. 

Yet again, you were humiliated by the very same people you had just carried to winning this years cup. 

Lance worriedly chewed on his bottom lip, avoiding directly making eye contact with either of you as you put away your things. His elbows rested on his knees in an attempt to keep himself from hanging his head. Everyone knew that it would only be a matter of time before something like this happened again, making him a target. 

"Such bullshit," Keith grunted as he yanked open the door to his locker. He was fuming, body all rigid and tense as he yanked his jersey off. Keith had plenty of his own problems that involved being a Slytherin blood traitor from a family openly in support of The Dark Lord which was why he spent his summers running away from foster homes. 

If you opened your mouth, you might've yelled. You kept it clamped shut and opted to shove you padding and broom away. It was easier to pretend you weren’t absolutely mortified at being called…that in front of everyone. To pretend that you were just pissed at spending the whole match playing a bludger target.

It might have worked too if James Potter wasn’t so... James Potter.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You found solace in the kitchens.

At least, you really truly hoped to. 

Your shower had been quick in an attempt to avoid bumping into any Slytherin girls. Actually, it had been in an attempt to avoid anyone. You’d managed to duck out of the common room, damp hair still soaking into the collar of your sweater, before Keith could intercept you. Of course you loved your friends with your whole heart, but you didn’t feel like pretending not to notice their wary glances checking on you the rest of the night. 

They would understand when you saw them tomorrow at breakfast. 

House elves had proved to be better company; after they dropped a mug of hot chocolate in front of you, they didn’t pay you much mind as they returned to cleaning up dishes from dinner. Eventually, you would have to leave if you wanted to continue to avoid students who came looking for a late night snack. 

You looked like the picture of defeat, ice pack pinched between your cheek and shoulder so you could prop your head in one hand. The other traced the wood of the table and occasionally pressed too harshly into the surface when a flash of Kaston, his smug face and leer, invaded your thoughts.

One more year. All you had to do was finish out the last month of sixth year, spend your summer at home with your family, and then finish out seventh year with your head down. 

James hovered in the doorway, debating whether or not his company would only exacerbate your foul mood. 

Here was the thing, you and James, while not exactly friends, did spend a significant amount of time around each other. 

The sixth year Gryffindor boys dorm was home to Remus, Sirius, Peter, James and Lance, one of your closest friends. Neither you, Lance, nor Keith were very fond of hanging out in the Slytherin common room (for obvious reasons). That made the Gryffindor common room, or sixth year Gryffindor boys dorm room, the frequent hangout spot. 

It was never uncommon for The Marauders to stumble in their room while you and Lance were sprawled on his bed, trying to finish the DADA homework without Keith’s help. The four boys usually came in tripping over themselves, exuding an air of nonchalance and laughing until they were breathless. You didn’t mind their company when they were at least able to keep things entertaining. 

You actually enjoyed Peter’s company when he asked to join you in the company, usually looking so stressed that you couldn’t not help him with his homework. He was good at drawing, doodling little pictures on the corners of his parchment and turning beet red when anyone complimented them. Occasionally you hated the way it seemed that Peter was always tagging along, trying to catch up with the others so he didn’t get left behind. You went out of your way to make him feel included when he was sitting near you in the dining hall even after you realized that he was just as much of a Marauder as the others. 

Remus was dryly funny, making times you were seated next to him for class much more entertaining. He was more reserved at first glance, seemingly more mature and above his friends' pranks when he was constantly instigating things to go one step further. While he was less likely to ask to sit next to you out of nowhere at the library, Remus could remember a comment you had made in passing weeks later and maintained scarily impressive eye contact. Three seconds later, he could also kick James’s chair out from under him at the last second without so much as turning his head. 

You found Sirius’s company less enjoyable but he did have redeemable moments. He was flirty, obnoxious, and a bit invasive, whether that be throwing an over your shoulder out of nowhere to lean his weight on you or take the butterbeer right out of your hand for a sip. There was the time in third year that Alder kept pulling your hair when he passed you in the halls. When Alder took a sip of his pumpkin juice one morning, screaming when his hair would not stop growing, you almost hadn’t noticed Sirius trying to meet your eye from across the room. When you did, he gave you a wink which you returned with a grateful smile, Alder tripping over his hair that dragged on the floor as he ran to the room. 

If James Potter was the sun, no one at Hogwarts could be deemed worthy of a comparison to the moon. 

That was it. James just glowed.

If he ate shit and wiped out, tumbling down an entire flight of stairs, he had the ability to laugh and make an onlooker embarrassed for witnessing it.

That had actually happened in fifth year.

You faltered at the top of the stairs, staring at the way he threw his head back and laughed. His glasses had still been askew on his face where he laid in a heap on the snow covered pavement. You had to blink a few times before scoffing out a laugh. The whole thing had been mesmerizing.

He’d been attempting to convince you to let him and the others into the Slytherin common room later that evening. You’d barely managed to turn him down after witnessing that. 

Normally, the two of you maintained a witty banter that bordered on bickering. Well, a better description would be you bickering with James for being annoying, while he easily turned the conversation into banter with his quick mouth and smooth talking. 

Your head raised at the sound of a chair scraping against the stone floor, watching him warily as he sunk into the seat with a grunt. It was a familiar sight, something he had done frequently when he had no one else to bother. “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order, I suppose you were right after all about demolishing my team this year.”

You raised an eyebrow which didn’t deter the cool look he wore. With an ease no one else seemed to possess, he shoved back his dark hair, even darker from his own shower and gorgeously messy. While red tended to be his signature collar, he looked stupidly good in navy blue, the sweater loose on his frame while still managing to show off his shoulders and strength. 

He flashed you a cheeky smile that seemed softer than usual, tentative in a way he normally wasn’t. It satiated you enough to relax and not be entirely on guard. 

“Thanks,” you sighed without any excitement. “Demolishing seems like a bit of an over exaggeration. You guys did good too.”

James's gaze softened as he took in the sight of you, the evidence of the game still present on your face in the little bruise on your cheek. You could’ve gone to Madam Pomfrey’s for bruise cream but the pain was a nice distraction for the squeezing feeling that had been occupying your chest since Keith caught the snitch. 

He shrugged, “Maybe… but I don’t think that’s the most pressing issue.” 

You didn’t bother to put any effort into your voice to seem convincing. “What issue? There’s no issue. We won. What could possibly be an issue?” 

You knew that he had seen it, been right there watching a few feet away with everyone else on the pitch. Even if he hadn’t been there, news of Kaston and what he called his own quidditch captain without shame had certainly circulated around the school by now. 

“Come on, I’m not that unaware,” he snorted, a finger pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Kaston was gunning for you all game. Nearly sent you into the dirt with how he was sending those bludgers your way on purpose.” A conflicted look crossed his face, studying you carefully as he tried to navigate the elephant in the room. “Or what he said after…”

Well.., he certainly had the subtlety of a erumpant. 

“Oh.” You sounded disinterested as you sank lower into your seat. “That issue.”

Of course you had known what he was talking about, you just didn’t want to talk about it. 

James raised a brow at your response, but didn't comment on your reluctance. He waited in silence, his gaze unwavering as you dropped the ice pack onto the table. His eyes raked over your form, taking in the mess of your hair, the slump of your shoulders, the disheartened look in your eyes. 

For once, he couldn't think of a witty jab or sarcastic comment to make.

So he didn't. Instead, he glanced at where he’d watched the bludger connect with your arm during the match. 

"How is your shoulder?"

Instead of answering right away, you just shrugged again, regretting it with a wince. You were certain that there was no break of your collarbone but purple had already begun blotching your skin when you inspected the area during your shower. 

“Normal match injuries I suppose.” After a long moment of quiet, you kind of felt like an ass for being so sullen. “No broken collar bone though.” 

You tried to smile at him for emphasis but gave up quickly when not even you found it to be remotely convincing. Fire crackled in the hearth, licking the cauldron that held the stock for tomorrow’s meal, making the entire room feel like a blanket. James could be much worse company at the moment considering it could have been Sirius- it could have been James and Sirius. 

Merlin, the pair of them together at this very moment would have driven you to serve detention every night for the next month until the school year ended. 

"No broken collar bone," he repeated, eyes brightening in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. "You're lucky I'm not Madam Pomfrey, or you'd be spending the night in the infirm.”

Your attempt to hide your amusement was futile when you no longer were inadvertently scowling. You stared at him for as long as you could before smiling somberly. 

“Lance already checked it after the game,” you lied. “Just bruised and sore. Not much to do about it without a broken bone.” 

What had really taken the hit was your ego, splintering under the force of the word Kaston had spit at you. Quidditch had been everything to you the past five years, working your ass off each day to prove that you deserved the spot as captain of the Slytherin team. It wasn’t just about skill, which you clearly had, it was about leading, making plays and executing them; getting others to execute them. 

Each year, younger students replaced the older ones, shifting the ratio of those with mild prejudice regarding blood status with those that were extremists. 

Professor Slughorn had seen your determination and awarded you appropriately at the start of this year, the little pin you got to wear on the front of your jersey feeling like it took all of the weight off your chest. It just didn’t take long for the first practice to be a disaster which continued to snowball each day. 

His eyes found yours, and he gave you a hopeful look. "Well," he said slowly, trying to sound nonchalant, "I guess that means you'll be back out there in no time, ready to beat me once again."

The words made you wince; the idea of repeating your captain's experience is difficult to play off as you look away. 

“Maybe… I don’t know,” you shrugged as dismissively as you could manage given your injury. Your brows pinched together and you opted to fidget with the ice pack to look unbothered. “Maybe quidditch isn’t as for me as I’d thought.”

James nearly fell out of his chair with how quickly he sat up straighter. You stood, ignoring his usual flair for dramatics when his mouth hung open. A house elf appeared in your path, holding out their hand to collect the warming ice pak and scurrying away as you thanked them. 

"No way!" He exclaimed, unable to hide his shock and indignation at the idea of you no longer on the field. His hands braced the surface of the stable as he pushed himself from his chair, earning an eye roll from you.

“Might be good to just focus on classes next year, figure out life after Hogwarts.”

James’s narrowed eyes followed you when you collected your mug and brought it towards the sink. Something seemed to be working in your favor because no one stopped you, allowing you something to multitask with. 

He just followed, "Seriously? You don't mean that.”

“How do you know that I don’t?”

His eyes darkened, “Is this because of Kaston?”

“No,” you shot back, scowling as you dumped the drink out, letting the remnant of chocolate that hadn’t quite dissolved slowly drip out. Looking at that was a lot easier than looking at him directly. A part of you was certain that the lie was obvious on your face and you opted to keep your back to him. 

“It’s not just about him.”

His expression softened, matching the new defeated tone of your voice. 

All of Hogwarts loved James Potter,  most of all his Gryffindor house and his adoring team.. Not only did they listen to him as their captain, but they wanted to be victorious together rather than simply win.

It wasn’t fair. There was nothing fair about any of it. You didn’t mean to resent him but it was inevitable anyways. His obnoxious pranks, obnoxious friends, and obnoxious personality still made him loved; not even you could truly hate him when he was so stupidly bright like the sun. 

You were probably nicer, certainly much less distracting but anyone who saw the green tie was still wary after six years of classes together. So maybe you were destined to not fit in anywhere here, neither in your house or out of your house, but rather in the space you and your two friends had made. 

Maybe you had come to terms with the fact that your spot as captain had been injudicious on Slughorn's part.

He approached you slowly, well aware of his chronic habit of putting his foot in his mouth.

"Well, who cares what they think?” He urged with confidence that came as naturally as breathing. "You shouldn't care what they think of you. What does it matter if they don't like you? You're good at what you do. You've done well, you've won a lot, and you've led the team. Why give that up over something petty like what they think of you?”

You didn’t respond, facing forward and setting the mug into the sink. His optimism was tangible, nearly suffocating. You gripped the edge of the counter in frustration. 

“Who cares what your team thinks of you when you’re the one leading them to the win?”

“I care, okay? I care what they think of me!”

The admission snapped out before you could stop it, whipping around with a throw of your hands in the air. You press your lips tightly together to keep you from speaking anymore deep, dark insecurities into the heated air of the kitchen. 

James seemed caught off guard, his conviction faltering enough that he isn’t quite sure what to say. His empathetic look started to feel more like pity, making the pressure in your chest grow sharp shards that were difficult to swallow around. 

You shook your head and scuffed the toe of you shoe on the stone. “No one listens to me. No one gives me credit for the wins but they make sure it’s clear that that it’s entirely my fault if we lose. I spent half of today’s match dodging bludgers because my own teammate was trying to send me plummeting fifty feet into the ground.”

Hearing it out loud hurts more than you thought it would.

Being angry was better than being fearful, something that you were more and more each year. The war raged on, muggleborns and their families vanished, and opinions were more vocalized in the walls of Hogwarts. Chalking the whole thing up to Kaston just being an asshole rather than an asshole with a powerful family with strong ideologies about blood purity and the ability to do something about it, that was easier to stomach. 

For a moment, you leaned back against the counter, picking at the edge and letting your confession hang there. He watched you carefully, eyes wide and concerned beneath the frames of his glasses. He wanted to get it, to under stand; he really did but, how is a boy that grew up a Potter supposed to understand anything of what it means not to have everything. 

Without the egregious inheritance he sat on, privilege was in his blood. 

Both literally and metaphorically. 

Adrenaline and privilege pumped through his veins each time he played a prank on someone like Snape. It was as vital to who he was as magic or his last name, acting like a shield that kept anyone revenge on the mild side. If you or Lance would have played a prank like James and his friends then it would be your names in the paper, followed by the names of your family members and the word missing. 

James got to keep his head held high because he didn’t have to continuously look over his shoulder. 

Hesitantly, he stepped closer, ducking his head in a desperate attempt to catch your eye. “I… I didn’t know it was that bad.”

You couldn’t even find it in yourself to scoff or roll your eyes. If you tried, you knew the sound would crack on the way out of your mouth just at the feel of your eyes burning. So instead you just shrugged so you could have a moment to collect yourself. 

Crying in front of James Potter? You would never live that down. 

“It’s just the way things are right now.” The way things were sucked. As you ran a hand down your face, your thumb brushed against the  bruise on your cheek and reminded you all over again about how shitty of a day you’d had. 

James had never been particularly good with words in these kinds of situations, so he went with his next best idea.

In hopes to console you, he stepped forward again, ignoring how you stiffened when his arms wrapped around you.

There was a timidness in the way his head settled on yours, his muscles all stiff as he held his breath. Your first instinct would have been to shove him off if you weren’t so gob smacked. 

You opened your mouth to scoff, fingers twitching at your sides to shove him off because this was so weird, but you couldn’t seem to do either. Maybe that was why you’d truly been avoiding Keith and Lance the past few hours. That the feeling cracking around in your chest has become so convoluted so you could pretend it was not the urge to cry.

And you knew that you really couldn’t control it as you gripped the bottom on his sweater. Your face pressed into the fabric of his sweater, the softness of the material a subtle reminder that it likely cost a ridiculous amount even as your tears soaked in. 

As you leaned into his embrace, James felt a wave of surprise wash over him. He relaxed first, the tension slipping as he readjusted his hold on you. Part of you expected him to crack a joke but you were glad that he didn’t because you didn’t think you’d manage to make yourself laugh. Your shoulders didn’t heave, you didn’t let out loud sobs against his chest or collapse in his arms because you didn't quite have that in you.

This was just... a moment of succumbing to the weight of everything that had been occurring since you received your Hogwarts acceptance letter in the mail years ago.  

The two of you stayed like that.

Time passed as house elves paid you little to no attention, moving around you to continue prepping meals for tomorrow and clean the kitchens for the day. If you had told yourself that golden boy James Potter would ever be the one to comfort you, you would have laughed so hard butterbeer could have come out your nose. 

It wasn’t so bad in the moment, working the tangle of emotions out of you and releasing some of the pressure. All you knew was that you felt a little better. Not great, but it was something. You wished you could’ve placed why a silly hug from a boy that you barely considered a friend did the trick. 

“Sorry,” you laughed, the sound watery in your throat as you pulled away first, using the sleeve of your sweater to swipe at your eyes. You hoped that you could dismiss the moment as his hands seemed to hesitate between falling to his sides. Smoothing your hair, you hoped it made you look more put together; or maybe your fingers just itched for anything to do. 

“Sorry. Normally I’m…”

‘More collected? Too clever to be crying to a pretty boy in the kitchens? A bit more off putting to others?’

You settled on, “Thanks, I, uh… appreciate it, Potter.”

A faint smile appeared with the relief that you at least seemed a bit better, making him brighten with pride at what he had managed to accomplish. 

“Yeah, yeah,” James teased, “you’re a real badass that never cries.” 

James managed to convince you to leave the kitchens eventually. The afternoon had trickled away to evening while you’d been hiding, darkness pressing against the glass of the windows. Straggles filled the halls, most students already beginning their Saturday evening plans. Some would be attending the celebratory party in the Slytherin common room or opting to drink in the Ravenclaw dorms instead. 

At least you knew the mood in the Gryffindor common room would align with your own, wallowing in their loss of this year's cup and you wallowing in your own self pity. 

“You nearly took my head off with the quaffle-”

“Oh please, I absolutely did not.”

“-did a corkscrew and just whipped it at the goal, didn’t even care if you killed me. There would be hell to pay.”

“Such a drama queen.”

James placed a hand to his chest, mouth hanging open comically in offense. “There would be an uprising. I am Hogwarts’s sweetheart, you know that right?”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled to yourself as you kept instep with him. He seemed oblivious to the occasional glances sent your way, thankfully not malicious but  just as embarrassing at the reminder that clearly news had spread quickly. You’d be getting curious looks for the next few days until the buzz died down. 

“You, James Potter, are something alright.”

story page here

[starksweasley]

Christmas Confessions // James Potter

Summary: In which wine and the holiday spirit lead James into confessing his feelings for you.

Word Count: 890

The train ride back from Hogwarts had been uneventful but tense. James had spent most of the trip leaning against the window, twirling his wand idly between his fingers. Sirius sat across from him, doing a stellar job of ignoring the gloom that radiated from you in the corner. Not that you blamed him. Nobody wanted to deal with the Malfoy Family Black Sheep—a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake.

James had noticed, though. He always did. Which was why, when everyone was collecting their trunks at King’s Cross, he’d walked up and thrown an arm over your shoulder with that boyish grin that made your heart skip a beat.

“Fancy a Potter Christmas?” he asked as casually as if inviting you to share a Chocolate Frog.

You opened your mouth to refuse, to come up with some excuse about Lucius expecting you home. But James’s hazel eyes sparkled with mischief—and something softer underneath.

“We’ve got a spare room. Sirius is coming too. My mum makes the best roast dinner. You’d love it.”

And just like that, you found yourself at the Potters’ doorstep.

The Potters’ home was everything Malfoy Manor wasn’t: warm, inviting, and filled with laughter. Mrs. Potter greeted you with a tight hug and a “You’re much too thin! Let’s fix that immediately.” Sirius smirked knowingly, already sprawled on the couch like he owned the place.

Dinner was a grand affair, with James and Sirius’s playful bickering filling the air, Mrs. Potter’s scolding interrupted by Mr. Potter’s hearty laugh. You were hesitant at first, sitting at the edge of your seat as though your family might swoop in and steal you away at any moment. But slowly, you eased into the warmth, the constant hum of belonging that enveloped the house.

The Potters had even gotten you a gift. It was a set of enchanted quills, “To help with all those essays James complains about,” Mr. Potter joked, earning a playful shove from his son.

After dinner, the three of you—you, James, and Sirius—collapsed by the roaring fireplace. Mulled wine made its rounds, and before long, the room was filled with laughter and the occasional snort from Sirius as he recounted his latest prank. Somewhere along the way, Sirius excused himself, muttering something about an early morning.

James leaned back against the couch, his legs sprawled lazily. You stretched beside him, your knees brushing his. Neither of you moved away. He reached into the nearby pile of clutter and pulled out a photo album.

“Mum’s obsession,” he explained, flipping it open. The first photo was of a tiny James, all messy hair and a toothy grin, riding a toy broomstick. You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and genuine.

“You were such a little menace,” you teased.

“Was? Still am,” he countered with a wink.

The album was a treasure trove of memories—James at various ages, Sirius’s dramatic photobombs, candid shots of the Potter family. Each page brought a new round of giggles. The wine had made you both a little loose, and your shoulders bumped more often than not, your legs tangling slightly as you adjusted to get a better look.

James’s voice softened as he turned to a particular photo. It was a picture of you and him at Hogwarts, taken during your fourth year. You were laughing at something he’d said, your eyes crinkled in genuine amusement.

“This,” James said quietly, his fingers brushing the edge of the photo, “was the moment I knew I loved you.”

The room seemed to hold its breath. Your heart skipped a beat, the words settling into the quiet like a spell. He wasn’t looking at you, his gaze fixed on the photo as though it might offer some kind of refuge.

“James,” you began, but he was already scrambling to his feet, face red.

“No, forget it. That was—I shouldn’t have said that. Too much wine. I’ll just…”

Before he could flee, you grabbed his arm and tugged him back down. He stumbled, landing clumsily beside you.

“Where are you going, Jamie?” you asked, your voice steadier than you felt. “You didn’t even let me respond.”

He shook his head, running a hand through his dark unruly hair. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was stupid. I don’t want to ruin—”

You cut him off by cupping his face, turning him to look at you. His eyes were wide, panicked, but the moment you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, the tension melted away.

It was a soft kiss, tentative at first, but when he didn’t pull away, you deepened it, pouring every unspoken word into the gesture. He tasted like cherries and smoky wine, and you couldn’t stop drinking him in. When you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“You love me?” you whispered, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“For two years now,” he admitted, his voice barely audible and glasses slightly askew.

“Good,” you said, your grin breaking free. “Because I love you too, Potter.”

He let out a breathy laugh, pulling you into his arms. The photo album lay forgotten on the floor as the fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the two of you.

Outside, the snow began to fall, but inside, all was warm.