#i am bereft. claudia i love you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maraudersftw · 3 years ago

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I posted 3,812 times in 2021

882 posts created (23%)

2930 posts reblogged (77%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 3.3 posts.

I added 3,977 tags in 2021

#asks - 776 posts

#claudia answers - 682 posts

#claudia's recs - 490 posts

#jily fic recs - 481 posts

#jily - 314 posts

#anon - 307 posts

#james potter - 239 posts

#lily evans - 238 posts

#claudia writes - 237 posts

#jily fic - 213 posts

Longest Tag: 93 characters

#the hits on heartbeats were suddenly increasing so i was like hmm someone must have recced it

My Top Posts in 2021

Blueberry + Black + Bliss

Many thanks for this lovely prompt, anon! I'm sorry I suck at stopping under 1000 words.

Sweet Blue

Lily barreled down the stairs, massive package in hand, grin rampant over lips as excitement buzzed like a second skin around her.

The Gryffindor Common Room, bereft of occupants save for a few stragglers who’d decided to forgo some precious Sunday lie-in, flew by her periphery without garnering so much as an acknowledging scan as she skipped towards the Boys’ staircase. A foot had barely fallen onto the first step when she was halted unceremoniously by an amused call of her name.

“Oi, Evans!” his voice rang out, and she whipped her head around to spot a shock of black hair, smiling hazel eyes, lazy smirk. The sight of him, burrowed inside an armchair, instantly sent the thrum beneath her ribcage stuttering. “Off to accost some poor bloke this early in the morning? At least wait for the sun to rise fully, would you? Some of us need more time to collect our wit.”

She narrowed her eyes, thoughts clattering as she debated her next course of action. Futile as the pretence that she’d been on a path to accost someone who was not the boy in front of her was, it only took Lily another half-second to make the decision, step away from the staircase, and towards him. James’s gaze brightened infinitesimally, evidently pleased by the deviation.

“Don’t club in everyone else with yourself, Potter,” she remarked happily, rounding the couch to plop down on its unbelievable cushiness. “Not everyone’s as slow as you.”

He reached out one of those unfairly long arms to bridge the space between them and flick her nose. Lily held back the widening grin. “And there’s that cheek. Even at six in the morning.”

Rather than blush tellingly at the fondness he directed at her, she nodded at the pile of Transfiguration notes and books around him. “What’s this? James Potter studying on a Sunday? Am I dreaming?”

“Afraid of a little competition?” he threw back, fire glinting off glasses. “Don’t worry, Evans, you’ll still beat me in Charms and Potions.”

For a second, the golden glaze of the sun hitting his hair from the window behind stole the words from her tongue, the breath from her lungs. Prompted by James’s prolonged stare, a warmth blossomed on her cheeks, bringing back some sense. “I’d beat you in DADA too.”

“Ha! You can dream.”

“I don’t make it a habit to dream about you, Potter.”

“That makes one of us,” he said, completely unabashed.

Lily fairly choked on that honesty, muscles tightening near her clavicle with strange breathlessness. “You dream about yourself? Takes the narcissism to new heights.”

James cocked a brow, but let her deliberate misunderstanding of the phrase slide. “Technically, everyone dreams about themselves.”

“Ugh, it’s too early for this,” she groaned, sliding her legs into a fold on the couch, fluffy warm pyjamas keeping the December chill at bay. “I was going to your dormitory for a purpose, you know?”

James instantly leaned forward, pleased and making no effort to hide it. “You were coming to see me?”

“To see all of you,” she mumbled like a coward. Perhaps there was also some lie interlaced in there, because he’d certainly been the reason she’d felt an extra jauntiness during her excursion. Not willing to impart that particular knowledge, Lily held out the package to him. “Open it.”

Curiosity creased his brows, smile never waning. “What’s this?”

“Open it, you impatient tosser.”

James grumbled something about ‘mean harpies posing as Head Girls’ and ‘no appreciation for those of curious minds’ while carefully unwrapping the package, all of which Lily soundly ignored in favour of vibrating with anticipation. When the last of the brown wrapping paper fell away, she squealed at the pink box that was revealed, full with a glossy sheen and pretty prints and designs; exactly the way she remembered it.

James looked at her, back at the box, then at her again. Eventually, amusement had his lips pinching together. “If I don’t find at least two dragon eggs inside this, I’ll be disappointed.”

“It’s something even better, I promise!” She wiggled her palms, urging him to open the box.

When he finally popped open the lid, Lily found herself under the very real threat of toppling to the floor, so far had she leaned forward. Eager green eyes spotted the dozen or so confectionaries that sat cheerily inside, miraculously undisturbed during their journey across England. “They’re blueberry muffins!” she informed giddily. “I requested mum to send across some from this bakery in my hometown.”

James’s smile softened as he looked inside the box, so much so that when he turned his eyes to her again, the gold in them had melted into a warm honey. “You do get blueberry muffins here too, you know,” he said kindly, voice fond.

“I know, but those are just imposters. These are the real deal. Take a bite, go on. I can bet you’ll be kissing my feet in thanks.”

“Do I have to kiss your feet? Can't it be something else?”

Her heart bloated dangerously. “James.”

“Only kidding,” he chuckled, reaching inside dutifully and picking out a muffin. At her incessantly exaggerated prompting, he made a show of rolling his eyes before finally biting into the spongey cake. It was bizarre, but Lily could swear she felt flavours blue and sweet burst on her own tongue when James moaned aloud, eyes scrunched in bliss as he chewed.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

“What the fuck,” he whispered in disbelief after swallowing, staring down at the remaining muffin as if it had personally offended him by not being available before. “What the actual fuck?”

“I told you!” she crowed, smirking openly without a hint of modesty. “Isn’t it just the best thing you’ve ever tasted?”

“Merlin, I might cry.” He blinked, grinning at her. “Give me those feet, Evans.”

Lily’s smirk dimmed, veins strangely suffused with molten courage instead of blood as she reached forward and plucked the box from James’s lap, setting it aside on the table. The distressed cry he let out died abruptly when she looked at him again, face serious.

“Will my lips do?”

James froze, eyes wide, muffin forgotten in hand. “Lily,” he warned, voice low. “Don’t. Not if you’re still thinking—not if you’re not sure.”

Her fingers found his free hand, ran over the warm palm breezily. “I’m sure,” she confessed, lashes fluttering as she stared at his Quidditch-given calluses. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long, but—I’m sure now.”

“Look at me.”

She did.

James’s eyes were aflame, even as his breath remained tempered. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want—” She bit her lip. “I want you to kiss me. I want to eat that muffin, and then I want you to take me to Hogsmeade next weekend.”

A beat passed. And then she found his hand snaking around her wrist, tugging her forward until she sloppily stumbled over to his armchair and right into his recently vacated lap. Distantly, she registered that they had an audience—however meagre—but she’d truly never cared less.

“Good plan,” James whispered, tossing the rest of the muffin into the box. Lily didn’t even feel inclined to chastise him for messing up the presentation, because he was gripping her waist the next second, pulling her closer until his nose brushed hers tenderly. “Always the perfect answer, Miss Evans.”

“Shut up,” Lily laughed, cradling his head, pulling him forward.

Their lips met, mouths opened, and blue and sweet burst on her tongue.

273 notes • Posted 2021-05-30 09:37:03 GMT

hi claudia! if you're accepting prompts, I'd love to see your take on either 'james thinks they're fake dating but they're actually really dating' or 'james isn't even aware that they're dating' because I really like an oblivious!james 😂

Hi, beautiful! This is such a classic prompt, and I had a blast writing for it. Combined both your options to put together something that reeks of obliviousness. Hope you enjoy!

Oblivious

Read on: AO3 || FFN

He's quite ashamed of the high-pitched yelp that leaves his lips, it's true.

But James doesn't think there's any other reaction to be expected when one finds oneself unceremoniously shoved against the wall of an empty alcove. The surprise only mounts at the feeling of a body, soft and warm, pressing against the front of his chest and stomach and lower, but dissolves when he registers the familiar feel of it. Of her.

"Evans," he groans, one hand unconsciously tangling in the length of her long, thick hair. "What—"

But she doesn't tell him what; the flash of a lethal smirk and dancing green eyes are all he's allowed to witness before she's got her lips on his, got her tongue prying his mouth open, her hands running through his hair and rumpling his uniform shirt without care.

James finds he doesn't care much for decorum himself.

"Merlin—" he kisses her back, brows scrunching at how easily everything about her overwhelms him, even when she's barely trying. The sweet smell of her, the way she pulls in breath, tugs at his lower lip, all of it magic more real than he's known. He tries to pull away, head muddled with some strange cloud of intoxication. "Fuck, Evans, I can't—"

"Are you sure?" She grins wickedly, pressing closer and leaving no room for doubt that she feels him, feels his eagerness. "Looks to me like you really can."

He strokes a thumb over her jaw, resistance waning already. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Uh oh." Lily leans back slightly, one eyebrow cocked even as she smiles easily. "That sounds ominous."

James's heart thumps, already against the idea, but he knows he has to do this now. It's been three months since he'd first found himself on the other end of Lily's glorious, wandering hands after she'd told sixth year Gryffindor, Jonathan Jenkins, that she was dating James when he'd refused to leave her alone despite multiple refusals. And though that first kiss had been quick and chaste, with a profuse apology from her right after Jenkins had left the common room in a huff, things had spiralled out of control. They hadn't expected Jenkins to be such a fucking gossip, and by the end of the day, the news that James Potter and Lily Evans were dating had penetrated ears everywhere in the castle.

When Lily had asked him to play along for a bit until there was no more danger of Jenkins hounding her like a wolf, she'd thought he'd been doing her a favour.

If he'd been a normal friend and not secretly in love with her, James supposes it would've been a favour.

But now—three months down the line—he's gotten greedier. He no longer just wants Lily to keep snogging him. He wants her fully, publicly; no pretences.

Typical of him to want to ruin the one good thing he has with her now, after seven years of struggle.

"Hello?" Lily pulls at his tie, jerking him out of his thoughts. She's still smiling, though a concerned light has entered her eyes now. "Rather cruel of you to keep me hanging here with such dreaded anticipation."

He's forgotten words. "Um."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake—"

James looks up and away at the sound of that voice, finding Sirius sauntering down the corridor, the Marauder's Map in his hands. Lily pulls away a bit at his appearance, but her palm stays firmly planted against James's stomach. "'lo, Sirius."

"You're bloody late for Transfiguration," he accuses, grey eyes narrowed, and James is finally reminded of the reason he'd been walking down this shortcut in the first place. "Thought I'd come find you two, given that neither of you can be counted upon to keep your head on straight these days."

"We've no reason to." Lily shrugs, grinning. "Head duties."

"It's McGonagall."

"She likes us," James supplies.

"Fucking unfair," Sirius grumbles, pocketing the parchment as he walks away. "You're just as bad as Prongs, Evans. Worse!"

Lily laughs at his disappearing form before turning back to him. "Reckon he might be right."

James inhales, misery eating his insides. "Lily, I—I can't do this anymore."

It takes a few seconds, but then her smile falls, brows stitch together, hands dropping. "Can't do this? What—what do you mean? Are you breaking up with me?"

"No!" His hand jumps to his hair, heart instantly loathing the upset look on her face he's brought on. "I mean, I can't break up with you if we were never together anyway."

But Lily's frown only deepens at that. "James, what—" she shakes her head. "What the bloody hell are you saying?"

"That this is too difficult! All this confusion and pretending to be with you when I know none of it's real—when I know what I feel is real. I'm just—" he stops, insides twisting together. "I'm sorry, okay? I like you too much to keep this going. I thought I could've been happy with pretending to be your boyfriend, but I'm not. Not anymore."

"Now hold on a fucking second!" Lily reels back, eyes so wide and shocked that it gives him pause. "What do you mean by pretending to be my boyfriend? You are my boyfriend!"

"Yeah, but not really."

"James." She slams him back against the wall, hand on his chest almost angry in its force. "What the hell are you saying? I asked you out last week. In the Great Hall?"

"That was—" he's shaking his head, dismissal ready on the tip of his tongue, when the scene repays in his mind. Lily had stopped him mid-meal with a squeeze on his arm and asked him if he wanted to go to Hogsmeade with her this month. And though there had been a new shyness to her expression then, James had assumed it'd been for the benefit of their friends, who couldn't stop grinning and laughing and talking about turned tables. "That was...real?"

Her jaw has unhinged, disbelief shining clear in her eyes. "Are you fucking kidding me? So, you've been thinking we were pretend-dating all this time?" He stays silent. "Oh my God, James. Why the hell would I be accosting you in hallways and snogging you, then?"

"Because...I'm a good kisser?"

Lily takes two steps back, shakes her head again. "Hang on, are we back in 1975? Is this fifth year?"

But James laughs, relief and euphoria mixing together to create a massive wave of emotion that has him reaching forward and pulling her back to him. His fingers grip her neck, her hip, and he ghosts his lips over the flush of her cheeks. "I've been going out with Lily Evans for a week."

"I don't think that counts anymore."

"Shh." He grins into her skin. "Don't ruin the moment."

"I'm ruining it? When you're the one who—" Her complaints die out against his mouth with his strategically placed kiss, which James figures he's allowed to do now, given that he's her boyfriend and all that. Lily stops for a beat to huff the words out. "Two minutes. Then Transfiguration."

"You're brilliant."

"You're a tosser."

281 notes • Posted 2021-06-24 17:57:38 GMT

Glazed Glory

Hello, friends! This is my tribute to Shirtless James Potter May, which is now definitely a Thing™

Dedicated to all my lovely Jily Discord buddies! And special thanks to @mppmaraudergirl @the-dream-team @constancezin and @blitheringmcgonagall for making this happen.

“YES!”

A screech tears from her throat, excited and giddy and decidedly drunk, as the small ping-pong ball lands neatly inside the cup of beer across the table. Her partner’s roar of triumph is followed by an enthusiastic slap of hi-five that has her reeling, the blazing heat of his palm rather delicious against her own.

Quite generously, he decides to bestow more of this warmth onto her person when he lifts her off her feet, mad and grinning, arms tight around her waist. His cheeks, ruddy from all the drinks he’s downed, accompanied by the dazzling brightness of hazel eyes, causes something to clench painfully inside her.

He’s just a mate. He’s just a mate.

“James!” she yells, half-laughing, fully breathless. “Put me down, you big buffoon.”

“We won! Again!” he grins, letting her feet touch the floor after another spin.

Before she can so much as inwardly lament on the loss of his comforting warmth, a pair of lips land on her cheek. Heart thundering, she forgets how to breathe, a reaction that is by no means justified given the sloppy, open-mouthed, intoxicated nature of the kiss.

A kiss that is not even a kiss because it leaves her lips feeling petulantly ignored.

“You…are fucking brilliant, Evans,” James slurs, entirely oblivious to what he’s just gone and done. She can only stare at him with poorly-hidden surprise, face blazing, warmer and warmer by the second.

“Er, thank you,” she sputters eventually, immensely grateful that everyone around them seems too drunk to pay their little interaction any mind.

“Another game!” James announces.

But she can’t; it’s impossible now.

“I think I’m done for the night,” she tells him, fingers brushing over his arm apologetically. “I’ve had too much to drink already.”

“WHAT?” he shrieks, betrayed, glasses sliding off nose. “You can’t ditch me now, Evans! We’re this close to being named The Hogwarts Beer Pong Champions.”

“Winning the Quidditch Championship wasn’t enough for you?” she laughs, hands rising above her head to point at the banners and streamers dangling from the common room ceiling.

“Oh yeah,” he blinks, grins blindingly. “I’d almost forgotten about that. Next year is going to be even more amazing. We’re going to win all the matches!”

“I have full faith.”

James smiles, triggering that annoyingly familiar tumble in her stomach. “You sure you don’t want to play?”

“I’m sure. Why don’t you ask Sirius? He’s probably withered away to ash without you by now.”

“Good call,” he says, instantly cupping his palms around his mouth. “Padfoot! Up for a round?”

“Fuck, yeah!”

She saunters over to the drinks table as Sirius walks by to take her place, casually ruffling her hair as he passes by. “What’s the damage, Evans?”

She makes a show of observing James. “Mm, five shots from blackout.”

“Excellent. Gotta bring that down to one.”

“All the best.”

Sirius adopts a ridiculously fierce expression as he joins James, facing off against two fifth-years. “Let’s take them down, Prongs!”

She chuckles quietly at the silliness, fingers pulling out a bottle of butterbeer despite her previous proclamations of having had enough alcohol for the night. With some sensible distance yawning open between her and the stupidly affectionate Quidditch captain, oxygen is easier to draw inside. She sighs, chilling the bottle with a quick wave of wand.

With sixth-year coming to an end, she feels the significance of everything the past year has brought to her life rather tremendously, but especially on the James Potter front. While being his friend has been an experience she wouldn’t trade for anything in the world—well, it’s also a lie, because there is one thing she would trade it for: being more than his friend.

But she worries, quite justifiably, that they’ve already crossed a phase too many in such a short span of time to tease at their dynamics any more. There’s a strange fluttering in her chest every time her eyes land on crazy hair and goofy grins that she knows certainly aren’t friendly reactions though.

She’s distracted from her thoughts by a sudden wave of excited hoots that ring out through the room. Curiosity piquing, she twists around to spot the fuss, eyes immediately flying to the beer pong table because there’s no doubt that that’s where the eye of the storm lies.

At the sight, the bottle of butterbeer almost slips from her fingers.

James stands, eyes even more glazed than before, crooked grin splitting over his face, bursting with laughter as he chest bumps Sirius. And if she hadn’t already noticed it before (she most certainly had) the action draws her gaze to his very sweaty, very bare chest, no doubt the target of the still ringing catcalls. She watches, mouth completely dry as the muscles in his abdominals ripple with movement when he runs a hand through his hair. It’s almost as if her ogling registers on his radar, because half a second later, James is looking at her.

She immediately lifts the bottle to her lips, hiding the awe-struck expression behind tinted glass. Fuck, was he fit! She’d guessed as much, of course; it was impossible not to when she hugged the boy as often as she did, but knowing and seeing, it turned out, were vastly different things.

“Lily!” he slurs, tongue rolling over the name as he walks over. “We trounced them. Did you see?”

“I think Evans was rather occupied with seeing something else,” Sirius smirks, the look he throws her entirely too knowing.

She takes another swig, unable to reply, unable to breathe, unable to think with James standing so close. The heat rolls off of him in waves, as sweltering as the fireplace in the room. To make matters worse, he raises his hand, swipes a thumb over her cheek. “You’re so red.”

She mumbles something unintelligibly while Sirius snickers.

“Sorry?”

“I’m tired. I’m gonna go to bed.”

And before either of them can protest, she chugs the rest of the beer and all but bolts from the party, heart pounding mercilessly in her ears. She almost makes it to the third step of the girl’s staircase before a hand wraps around her wrist, the warmth of the touch telling her enough. “James,” she sighs, turning around.

“Are you mad at me?” His brows pull together, sweat dripping from his hairline, down the side of his face, over that strong neck to pool into the hollow of his collar bone. She swallows, wondering if it would look too weird if she reaches up and licks it away.

Probably.

“No,” she wheezes.

He steps closer, makes it worse. “Then why won’t you look at me?”

She looks at him then—of course, she does—and something like adoration bursts inside her. “I’m not mad at you, James. You’re just too distracting right now.”

“What?”

Some remnant of Gryffindor courage has her reaching forward, placing a palm over his chest. She feels it, right beneath her skin, when the beat of his heart alters rhythm. “You’re quite shirtless, if you haven’t noticed.”

A rush of breath tickles the top of her head.

“Lily,” James breathes, fingers drifting to her waist, and when she catches his eye again, the look in them has changed wholly. Any previous glaze is wiped clean, replaced by some brightness that wars with the expanding darkness of his irises. “Will you—”

“Wait!” she says, almost moaning when his fingers squeeze her hip. “Not like this. Not now. We’re drunk.”

“I—” he looks down, eyes on her mouth, and she thinks he’ll lean forward anyway, kiss her anyway, fuck it all. It isn’t until he sighs, deep and resigned, that she realizes she wouldn’t have minded. “Yeah, alright.”

“James.”

“Yeah?”

She smiles, slow and confident, because now she knows, and leans forward to brush her lips over his cheek. The hints of stubble feel delectably coarse against her mouth, and even more so when he groans somewhere at the back of his throat. She pulls back sluggishly, weak in the face of her own want. “Ask me later,” she whispers.

James watches dazedly as she takes a step back, then another. Eventually, he finds his smile. “I’ll hold you to that, Evans.”

“You’d better.”

353 notes • Posted 2021-05-10 18:52:10 GMT

Things The Jily Fandom Loses Its Mind Over: A Compilation

"Alright, Evans?"

James running a hand through his hair

Smirks and crooked grins

"You're insufferable, Potter!"

"You're ridiculous, Potter!"

Toerag

Lily rolling her eyes

Patronus reveals

The Giant Squid

"I'm over her!" (No, he's not)

"He's over me!" (No, he's not)

Who's the headboy?

Potter to James

Evans to Lily

Evans to Potter 😏

Midnight Patrols

Heads' Office/Dorms

James sweaty after Quidditch

Lily biting her lip

Drunk Lily

"Go out with me?"

Merlin

BlackEvans broTP

Sneaking off to Hogsmeade

Invisibility cloak/map reveal

Animagus reveal

Sexy hair (on both sides)

Getting caught ogling the other by friends

James’s body heat

546 notes • Posted 2021-08-03 20:33:28 GMT

Pace

When James Potter kisses Lily Evans, it embodies the true sense of the word soft. It's a delicate press of lips against lips, warm, gliding hands that brush over any slivers of exposed skin. It's a sliding of mouths, a slow fitting of puzzle pieces that have always been meant to fall together. It's an expulsion of breath, of relief, of emotion, of a finally, yes, come here. It's a cherishing of everything that they are allowed to experience now, after seven years of constant battles and tossed remarks and unsubtle flirting. It's the faintest brush of tongues, the melting of skin so that hearts may connect. It's a soft touch of knuckles against neck, it's hands caressing jaw and fingertips skimming hair. It's everything that drives him insane and brings him alive. When James Potter kisses Lily Evans, it's a realization that his love isn't unrequited.

When Lily Evans kisses James Potter, she is fierce in her pursuit of his mouth like she is about everything that matters in life. It's the tugging of his bottom lip with her teeth, the sifting of her fingers through his maddening hair, the pressure of glasses she enjoys against her face because it's a sign that he's as close as he can be. It's also an expulsion of breath, but a heavier one, a sigh that slips into a quiet moan and spurs her to move closer, to cross boundaries, to meet him at the place he's been waiting for her. It's an impatient prying of the tongue, a delicious warmth she can't expect to wait for. It's the smile that turns her lips up at the corners because he can never refuse her. When Lily Evans kisses James Potter, it's an effort to make up for lost time.

When James Potter and Lily Evans kiss, it's the creation of magic.

551 notes • Posted 2021-04-21 11:06:18 GMT

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