#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 ♫]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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.

[fallsndreamsalone]

[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??

[aurynsia]

Touch Tank

James Potter x Reader

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

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

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

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.

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

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.

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

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.”

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

[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.

[midniqhtt]

ᯓ★ 𝑭𝑰𝑪 𝑹𝑬𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺

lewis pullman ⭒ marvel ⭒ the pitt ⭒ invincible ⭒ xmen ⭒ dc ⭒ top gun

pedro pascal ⭒ oscar isaac ⭒ ben barnes ⭒ aaron taylor johnson

harry potter universe ⭒ stranger things ⭒ criminal minds

the walking dead ⭒ ted lasso ⭒ hunger games ⭒ triple frontier

supernatural ⭒ miscellaneous

[slytherinsimp12]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ 𝐼𝓃𝓀 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓈 ౨ৎ˚⟡˖

Pairing: James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: You and James have been friends since first year. You both would spend majority of your time together due to quidditch practice. Somewhere along the way, you started to develop feelings for him. You would never assume he felt the same way towards you, even though he flirted with you mindlessly and came up with clever excuses to be around you, you never assumed he would like you any other way than as a friend. All that changes one night, when James finds your diary.

Warnings: Fluff and Kissing.

Author’s note: Hey lovelies, this was originally supposed to be a smutty fanfic but I decided to write the clean version first. If this does well, I’ll write the ‘spicy’ version 🤭. Comment if you want the other version and to be added to the tag list💌Happy reading <3

The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with energy after a Quidditch match victory. James Potter, sweaty and exhilarated, looked more beautiful than usual. You watched him slip away from the crowd to grab a Butterbeer, joining you at the snack table.

“That was a nice save towards the end, Potter. I thought you were going to fall off your broom for a second.” You said.

“Fall off? Please, I had it completely under control. The dramatic dive was for effect. You know, to impress certain players” He smirked.

“Oh? And did it work?” You laughed.

“Depends… were you impressed?” He said, leaning in closer to you. A shiver ran down your spine, this is how James was. Friendly flirting until the other person was completely flustered. You should have gotten used to it by now, but you didn’t. You were anything but used to it.

“Maybe a little. But I was mostly impressed you didn’t hit your head again. That’d be, what, the third time this term?” You said, brushing him off.

“Ouch.” He groaned, dramatically clutching his chest.

The celebration continued till 1 am that night, at some point, you, James, Sirius, Marlene and Mary ended up in Sirius and James’ dorm.

“Right, it’s getting late. Me and Mary are gonna head back to our dorm, coming y/n?” Marlene asked.

“Yea. James, is it alright if I leave my bag here? I promise to take it first thing tomorrow.” You said, little did you know that was going to change your entire relationship with James Potter.

The next morning, you woke up with a horrible migraine. Still, holding up your promise, you made your way to James’ dorm, half asleep, to collect your things.

“James?” You called, before entering the room.

“Come in.” He said from inside.

His hair was messier than usual, his face a mix of surprise and sleep. He was sitting on a chair with his legs on the bed, holding up a diary, grinning like he had just found gold.

Oh for Merlin’s sake. Your diary. How could you be so stupid? You had totally forgotten your diary was in your bag, but you didn’t expect him to go through your things.

“What the hell, James?” You said, anger edging in your voice.

You marched over to him, trying to snatch the diary away, but he pulled it out of your reach.

“James Fleamont Potter, you give that back right now!” You screamed.

James laughed, “Relax, I only read… like, two sentences. Three tops. One might’ve mentioned someone with ‘wild hair and a hopeless ego.’ Ring any bells?” He said coyly.

A red blush crept up your face and made its way to your neck.

“You. Are. Utterly. Unbelievable.” You spat.

“Oh, come on, it’s kind of flattering. You wrote about me! That’s practically a love letter in diary terms.” He joked.

“It is not! Now give it back!” You demanded.

“Nuh uh” he teased, childishly.

“I also called you ‘a walking disaster in Quidditch robes.’ Did you read that part?” You asked, annoyed.

“I knew you noticed my robes! You do like me.” James said, gasping dramatically.

“James” you groaned, getting more and more embarrassed now.

“Hey—don’t be embarrassed. If I had a diary, you’d be in it. Probably underlined. With little stars and everything.” He joked, stepping closer.

He handed you your diary back, his fingers brushing yours just a second longer than they needed to.

“I didn’t read anything else, promise.” He said.

“Thanks…” you whispered.

There was a pause, neither of you moved. The room was quiet, except for the crackle of the fireplace. You could hear James’ heartbeat, his breath and you could feel his closeness.

“You know…. I was half- hoping it was about me, when I found it.” His voice was quieter, as he took a small step closer.

Your eyes searched his, looking for truth.

“Why?” You asked.

“Because I’ve been walking around pretending not to feel what I feel. And it’s exhausting, honestly. I’m James Potter—I’m not built for subtle.” He answered.

“That is definitely true.” You said, smiling and rolling your eyes.

“So if you’re pretending too… I don’t know. Maybe we can stop. Just for a minute.” He pleaded, taking your palms in his.

He was so close now. Close enough for you to see the freckles under his eyes, close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheeks, close enough for you to smell his scent.

His voice dropped lower, barely a breath.

“Is it so terrible? Liking me?”

“No. It’s terrifying.” You admitted.

James’ hand slips up to your cheek, his thumb brushing your jaw, you lean into him instinctively. He closed the space between the two of you, placing a warm kiss on your lips. It was soft, but a little hesitant at first, like the both of you were trying to memorise this feeling. His lips move against yours gently, like a question being answered with every second you didn’t pull away.

You break apart, just barely, your foreheads rest together, and he’s smiling like he’s completely undone.

“Took you long enough.” You smiled, breathless.

“Oi—I was being respectful. Chivalrous. Noble Gryffindor and all that.” He countered.

“You read my diary, James.” You defended.

“And I’d do it again if it brought me here.” He grinned, wrapping his arms around you.

(All rights reserved, ©)

[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

[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."

[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.

[fallsndreamsalone]

Lowkey love it when men are all whinny and whimpering but like not in a sexual way yk.

[ticifics]

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

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.

[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.

[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.

[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.

[nerdgirlbutinpink]

it’s 4 am, i have my candle on, i’m showered, my phone is charged and i have snacks while i read some fanfics? we’re so back