#james potter x self insert

[moonstruckme]

Hello tumblr has decided to temporarily disappear the request I'm ready to post again, so sorry and thank you for requesting <3

Request: i love love love your writing and was wondering if you’d write a period hurt/comfort with james? i have really bad endometriosis, and i’ve never really had someone take it seriously :( fainted earlier so i’m in pain rn and i just know james would be such a sweetheart

cw: modern au, reader who menstruates, very mild/vague description of cramps, male gaslighting/suspicion of female pain (what else is new)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 895 words

“Will that be all?” The geniality in James’ tone is starting to wane thin. He paces aimlessly around your flat, down the hall and into the bedroom and then back out again, footsteps meandering about the kitchen. “Right, yeah. No, I’m quite sure she’ll be out all day.” 

James shoots you an exasperated look as he comes into the sitting room, and you manage a smile-esque grimace from the couch in return. Your boss is a piece of work, you know. 

You hold out your hand for the phone. James shakes his head. 

“No, she can’t come to the phone right now,” he says, sitting beside your curled-up legs. “She’s resting. Did I mention she fainted a bit ago? Alright, yeah, just checking. Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll let her know.” 

You grimace again when he puts down the phone. Hanging up without telling the other person to have a lovely day is like James’ equivalent of the middle finger. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“What’re you sorry for?” James gives your calf a gentle squeeze. “Your boss is rather pushy, isn’t he? Shouldn’t take so much to use a sick day.”

“I don’t think he believes me.” You let your face mush deeply into a throw pillow. There’s a light sweat broken out on your brow, but you couldn’t be more grateful for the sweltering heating pad held tight over your abdomen. “I could’ve talked to him.” 

James makes a face. “You shouldn’t have to deal with someone like that when you’re already poorly.”  

“What did he want you to let me know?” 

“Oh. Uh.” James seems as though he did not, in fact, plan to let you know, but now that you’ve asked he can’t avoid it. “He said that he expects to see you in tomorrow. We’ll see.” 

You sigh. “I might be able to manage tomorrow. Or I might be a bit better, at least.” 

“We’ll see,” he says again, stooping to mush a kiss into the side of your head. “Don’t worry about that yet, sweetheart. How are you feeling now?” 

“Better than when I woke up.” 

“Yeah?” James asks hopefully. It’s a low bar, considering that early this morning the pain had been bad enough to cause you to pass out. But if there’s one thing James can be relied upon for, it’s a positive outlook. “That’s great, lovie. Is there anything you need?”

You shake your head, breaths shallowing as your cramps worsen. Nausea pinches the back of your throat. James’ face pinches, too, as he sees. He rubs your lower back where the muscles tend to clench. 

“Is there anything you want?” he asks instead. 

It almost makes you laugh. Almost, but even that’s enough to ease the pain slightly. 

“No,” you say, breathing out as the worst passes. James continues massaging your back. “Thanks.” 

“Maybe we could try a walk later, if you’re feeling better,” he says. “Some light exercise might help.” 

“Maybe,” you murmur. Truly, the thought of leaving this couch anytime during the next week makes you want to sew yourself into the cushions. James probably knows you’re only humoring him, but he doesn’t say anything. When you hug your heating pad closer, he spreads his palm flat over your back to transfer heat there, too. 

You relax some when the cramp eases the rest of the way. “Sorry. I don’t mean to take over your whole day.” 

“Sweetheart, why are you sorry?” James places his free hand over yours on your heating pad. Between that and the one on your back, it’s almost like a hug. “I know you don’t want this to happen. And, honestly, I’d rather have my day taken over by you than anyone else. Don’t tell Sirius.” 

That coaxes a small smile out of you. James grins, leaning down again to plant a kiss on your cheek. 

“I’m sorry you’re so miserable.” 

“I’m not miserable,” you say. “I’m with you.” 

James makes a horrendously fond sound, cuddling you close. “You flatterer. I don’t know where you find the energy to be so sweet during times like this.” 

You make it easy, you want to say, but James will only think you’re playing along with him and you want to say it when he’ll hear the sincerity you mean it with. Instead, you intertwine your fingers with his and say, “I’ve thought of something I want.” 

“Yeah?” James sits up. He brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, mindless of your clamminess. You think that maybe the only thing bigger than James’ capacity for love is how it feels to be at the center of it. “Some tea, maybe? That tumeric one helped a bit last time, remember?” 

“Maybe later,” you say, voice softening. “For now, could I please have a kiss?” 

James blinks once in surprise, but then he grins. “Ah, for the endorphins,” he says, already bending down. “Good thinking, angel.” 

“Right.” You don’t know where he gets these facts. You suspect he scrolls through endometriosis reddit forums while you’re asleep. “Yeah.” 

James makes it a kiss worth asking for. He keeps his hand flat over your back as he leans over you, the other cupping your cheek to encourage your face towards him. And when your lips part, you do feel a bit better. It’s a magical cure-all, just like the fairytales say.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Why Couldn't It Be Us

James Potter x Lestrange!Reader

AN: This is a sneak peak but you can read this alone, without having to read the full fic.

Summary: James grappled with the reality of loosing the love of his life.

WC:3.4k

CW: So much yearning and spiralling. So much angst no comfort what so ever, Marilily, drunk!James, one night stands, drunken hook ups, reader is married

The pub smelled of stale beer, wood polish, and the faint tang of smoke from the fireplace in the corner. The walls were covered with faded photographs, posters for live music, and layers of peeling paint that hinted at decades of stories. It wasn’t the kind of place where magical folk usually gathered, but Sirius insisted it had character. 

James took a long pull from his pint, leaning back against the booth, his glasses slightly fogged from the warmth of the room. Remus sat across from him, nursing a whiskey, while Peter sipped a cloudy gin and tonic. Marlene and Dorcas were at the bar ordering another round, and Sirius was at the jukebox, shuffling through the selection with the same intensity he’d use for a chess match.  

Lily slid into the seat beside James, her cheeks flushed from the cold outside. “I don’t know why I let Sirius drag us here,” She huffed, pulling her scarf off and stuffing it into her bag.  

“You’re here because you’d follow me anywhere, Evans,” Sirius called without looking up, a smirk tugging at his lips.  

Lily rolled her eyes, but her fondness was obvious. “He’s insufferable.”  

“Absolutely,” Remus nodded, chuckling when Sirius threw a random crumpled up paper at his head.

Dorcas and Marlene returned with drinks in hand, sliding them onto the table. Dorcas clapped James on the shoulder as she sat. “How’s our Golden Boy, then? Had a good day bringing shame to daddy’s potion business?”

James chuckled. “Pops’ got nothing for me anymore. I’m a free man now- no professors, no detentions, no overtime, just… endless possibilities.”  

“And endless parties,” Sirius added, finally joining them with a triumphant look. “Found Bowie. You’re welcome.”  

The opening chords of Suffragette City began to hum through the bar, and Sirius raised his glass. “To living dangerously and looking damn good while doing it.”  

“To the Order,” Lily said suddenly, raising her drink. Her voice was steady, but there was a weight behind it.  

A ripple of silence passed over the group. The Order of the Phoenix wasn’t a light topic, but it was always lurking at the edge of their conversations these days. The war was brewing- closer and darker every day- and none of them were naïve enough to think they could avoid it forever.  

“To the Order,” James echoed, his voice quieter.  

They clinked glasses, the sound almost lost under the music and the hum of conversation around them.  

“You reckon we’re ready for it?” Peter asked after a moment, his voice uncertain- but his eyes held a determined fury that was a tad bit over shadowed by his flushed chubby cheeks.

“No one’s ready for war,” Remus said. “Not really. But what’s the alternative? We let You-Know-Who run the world while we sit back and do nothing?”  

“He’s got a point,” Dorcas said, her dark eyes flashing. “We can’t just… hide. If there’s a fight, we’ve got to be in it.”  

“I don’t want to hide,” Marlene said, staring into her glass. “I’m not afraid of them.”  

“We should be afraid,” Lily said softly. “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t fight.”  

James reached over and took her hand, squeezing it gently. “We’ll fight. And we’ll win. That’s what we do.”  

“And if we don’t?” Peter asked, his voice small.  

Sirius leaned forward, his grin sharp and defiant. “We will. Because we have to. And because they don’t know what’s coming for them.”  

For a moment, no one spoke. The weight of their shared resolve hung heavy in the air. Then Marlene broke the tension with a wicked grin.  

“Enough of this gloom,” she said, standing and dragging Dorcas with her. “Someone say something worthwhile before I lose it.”

“Worthwhile, huh?” a familiar voice teased, light and playful, cutting through the hum of music and conversation.  

James turned to see Mary Macdonald leaning against the booth, a crooked grin on her face and her eyes sparkling with warmth. She was bundled in a long coat, her gloves tucked into one pocket, and her hair slightly damp from the winter drizzle outside.  

“Speak of the devil,” Marlene said, smirking as she dropped back into her seat. “And she shall appear.”  

Mary raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. “Was I summoned for something specific, or are you all just this predictable?”  

“Predictable? Us?” Sirius scoffed, his grin widening as he stood and slid out of the booth to make room for her. “Mary, darling, you wound me. I’m nothing if not a mystery wrapped in leather and charm.”  

“And bad decisions,” Remus muttered into his glass, earning a bark of laughter from Marlene.  

Mary ignored Sirius’s antics and slid into the booth beside Lily, who shifted to make space. Her smile softened as she leaned closer to Lily, her hand brushing against hers. “Sorry I’m late.”  

“Worth the wait,” Lily replied softly, her cheeks flushing.  

James felt his stomach drop.  

Mary cleared her throat, sitting up straight. “Actually, I had a reason for being late.”  

Lily’s hand slipped into hers, and James immediately felt the shift in the air. The kind of shift that made your heart pound, even when you didn’t know why.  

“We have news,” Lily began, her voice steady but her green eyes bright with emotion. She glanced at Mary, a shy smile tugging at her lips.  

Mary took over, her grin widening. “We’re getting married.”  

There was a stunned silence, like the universe had paused just long enough for everyone to process her words.  

Then the booth erupted in cheers.  

Dorcas was the first to leap up, nearly knocking over her drink as she threw her arms around both women. Marlene was right behind her, practically pulling them into a group hug as Sirius whooped loudly.  

“Bloody brilliant!” Sirius crowed, his grin wide and uncontainable. “Knew it’d happen eventually. You two are disgustingly perfect.”  

“Disgusting,” Remus agreed with a smirk, though his tone was warm as he raised his glass. “To Mary and Lily. Congratulations.”  

Peter echoed the toast, his round face flushed with excitement.  

James raised his glass too, plastering a wide grin on his face as the others cheered. He even managed to laugh when Sirius made some terrible joke about Lily finally having a chance to wear something “outrageously frilly.”  

But inside, he was breaking.  

That should be us.

The thought was sharp and unrelenting, carving through the noise and the laughter like a knife. He was happy for her- of course, he was. Lily deserved the kind of love that lit her up from the inside, and Mary was dynamite. He could see it in the way they looked at eachother, in the way their cheeks dimpled when she smiled.  

But it didn’t stop the ache in his chest, the hollow feeling that spread with every laugh and every toast.  

The music shifted, Bowie giving way to something heavier and rockin’. Marlene grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet with a grin. “C’mon, Potter. Let’s see if you can actually dance.”  

James let himself be dragged to the tiny dance floor, forcing a laugh as Marlene twirled him dramatically. She was a whirlwind of energy, and her jokes kept him smiling, but his heart wasn’t in it.  

After a few songs, he excused himself, weaving through the crowd back to the bar.  

The bartender was wiping down glasses, and James slid onto a stool, ordering another pint. He stared at the wood grain of the counter, letting the noise of the pub wash over him.  

His drink arrived, and he took a long sip, trying to push down the emotions threatening to rise.  

It wasn’t about him, he reminded himself. 

But as he sat there, the laughter and celebration echoing behind him, he couldn’t help but wish- for just a moment- that things had been different. That he’d been enough. That he had more proof of your love, then just an apology and that last kiss.

James stared into the amber liquid in his glass, his fingers tightening around the cool surface. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses from his friends felt muted now, like he was watching the scene through a fogged-up window. He drained his pint in one long sip, setting it down with a dull thunk. The bartender raised an eyebrow at him, but James waved him off. 

He was fine. He was always fine.

“Hey, you alright?” 

The voice startled him, low and lilting, cutting through his thoughts like a blade. James turned to find a girl standing a few feet away. She was magnetic. Her hair shimmered under the dim lights, falling in waves she tucked behind her ear, and her eyes- curious and smoldering- seemed to pierce right through him. Something about her tugged at his chest, an ache that felt too familiar. 

She looked a hell of a lot like you.

James blinked, trying to shove the thought aside, but it dug its claws into his mind, stubborn and unyielding. It was in the way she held herself, confident and just a little aloof, her smile teasing at the corners like she already knew him. Like you used to look at him when you thought no one else was watching.

“Fine,” he said finally, his voice rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat and gave her a half-hearted smirk. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

The girl tilted her head, unconvinced. “I don’t know. You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world or something.” 

“Don’t we all?” He quipped, raising his empty glass. 

She chuckled, low and warm, sliding onto the stool beside him. “I suppose we do. But most people don’t drink alone at a table full of friends. What’s your excuse?”

James glanced over at his group. They were still laughing, huddled together like they didn’t have a care in the world. Lily was leaning into Mary, her hand resting casually on her knee. 

The sight made his stomach twist. He looked back at the girl, her expectant eyes waiting for him to answer. 

“Celebrating,” He lied. “Big day. Lots to toast to.”

Her smile widened, and she raised her glass. “Well, cheers to that.”

They talked, or rather, she talked, and he pretended to listen. He was too busy trying not to notice the curve of her lips or the way her laughter rang like a bell. Too busy trying not to let his mind wander to you and the way you used to laugh at his jokes, even the bad ones. Too busy pretending he didn’t feel like he was about to shatter into a thousand pieces. 

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You want to get out of here?”

James hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then he thought about Lily and Mary’s announcement. He thought about your last words to him, the ones he’d tried so hard to forget. He thought about the weight in his chest that wouldn’t let him breathe.

And he said yes.

She smirked and gestured to the door. He stood up. He was a gentleman, grabbing her coat and helping her slide it on. He chuckled at a playful remark she made- he flipped off Sirius as he wolf whistled after them.

He felt normal.

Her flat was small but cozy, filled with mismatched furniture and the faint scent of vanilla. James barely noticed any of it. His focus was on her hands, the way they tugged at his jacket, the way her lips felt against his, the way her laughter sounded when she stumbled backward into her bed. 

He didn’t think about how her hair fanned out on the pillow like yours used to fan against the forest floor. He didn’t think about how her voice softened when she whispered his name. He didn’t think about the way she pulled him close, or how his heart twisted in his chest when he kissed her. 

He didn’t think about you.

It wasn’t until later, when the room was quiet and she was asleep beside him, that the weight in his chest returned. James stared at the ceiling, the darkness pressing down on him. The ache in his chest was unbearable now, raw and consuming. 

He slipped out of bed, pulling on his jeans and shirt in the dim light. The girl stirred, mumbling something he couldn’t make out, but she didn’t wake. James grabbed his jacket and left without a word, the cold air outside biting at his skin as he stepped into the night.

He didn’t remember the walk home, just the way his hands shook as he let himself into his flat. 

James stumbled into his flat, the door slamming behind him as he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the floor. The room was spinning, the edges of his vision blurred from too many drinks and too many emotions he couldn’t name. His chest ached, hollow and heavy all at once, and his head buzzed with the echoes of your voice, the ghost of your touch.

He dropped onto the couch, his trembling fingers fumbling for the phone. It took him a moment to find it, buried under a stack of unopened letters and old newspapers. His mind raced as he flipped through the yellowing pages, the parchment glowing faintly under the dim light of his wand. He didn’t know what he was looking for until he found it.

Lestrange Manor.

His heart thundered in his chest as he punched in the number, the dial tone buzzing loudly in his ear. He didn’t think about what he would say or why he was calling. He just needed to hear your voice, to know you were still out there. Still you.

The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. 

“It's late.” The voice boomed in the distance before he heard a sigh against the receiver. “Lestrange Manor,” Your father’s voice. 

James froze, the words caught in his throat. His hand shook as he gripped the receiver, his knuckles turning white. For a moment, he thought about speaking, about demanding to know where you were, about apologizing for everything, about-

He slammed the phone down, his breath hitching in his chest. The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of his mistake settling heavily on his shoulders. He raked a hand through his hair, his heart pounding as he stared at the phone.

Then, slowly, he turned the pages again.

Avery Manor.

The name stared back at him, mocking him, taunting him with the reality he’d tried so hard to ignore. You weren’t just gone. You were married.

He dialed the number before he could think better of it, his hands trembling as he pressed the receiver to his ear. His chest tightened with every ring, the seconds dragging on like hours. He didn’t know what he would say. He didn’t know if he could even form words.

And then, it answered.

“Hello?” Your voice was soft, curious, and achingly familiar. It hit him like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from his lungs. He squeezed his eyes shut, his hand gripping the phone so tightly it hurt.

“Hello?” You repeated, a note of concern creeping into your tone. “Is someone there?”

James opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His throat was dry, his heart hammering in his chest. He wanted to say your name, to tell you it was him, to tell you he was sorry, to tell you- everything.

But he couldn’t. 

“...James?” 

His breath caught at the sound of his name on your lips. The way you said it, so soft and familiar, like you knew it was him without even knowing. It broke something in him, something he didn’t know could still break.

"Hi." It was all James could manage. The word came out shaky, barely more than a whisper, and he winced as the silence on the other end stretched, thick and heavy. 

Then, he heard you take a small breath. That sound- soft, familiar- tore through him, a sharp ache in his chest. He closed his eyes, the ghost of your touch burning on his skin, memories flooding back with every beat of his heart.

That breath. He missed it. He missed the way you breathed against his ear, the quiet exhale that came when his lips brushed your neck. He missed the way you'd laugh and scold him, pushing at his chest, pretending to be annoyed. "James, stop it," you'd say, your voice sharp but your eyes warm. "You’re going to leave a mark." 

And then, you'd let him do it again.

“James,” your voice came again, quiet, tentative. His name on your lips felt like a lifeline, like it always had, but this time it hurt. This time it reminded him of everything he’d lost.

“I…” His throat felt tight, the words caught somewhere between his heart and his lips. 

“I didn’t know… Avery had a landline,” James said, his voice cracking slightly as he tried to sound casual, but the slur in his words betrayed him. He cursed himself inwardly, gripping the phone harder as if the pressure could steady him. He just needed anything- anything to keep you on the line, to hear your voice for a little longer.

There was a pause on your end, long enough to make his stomach twist. He could imagine you standing there, your lips parted in surprise, your brow furrowed as you processed his words. Then came your voice, soft but laced with confusion.

“James, are you- are you drunk?”

The concern in your tone made his heart ache, but it also made him feel exposed. Vulnerable. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to laugh, though it sounded hollow even to his own ears. “What gave me away? The fact that I’m calling you at- what time is it?”

You sighed, and he could picture the way you’d pinch the bridge of your nose, your lips pressing together as you tried to decide whether to scold him or let it go. “James, what are you doing?”

The question hit harder than it should have. What was he doing? Calling you in the middle of the night, knowing full well it was a mistake? Torturing himself with the sound of your voice, knowing it would only make the ache worse?

“I just…” He paused, running a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling in the mess of it. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

James swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he spoke, “I miss you.” The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, as though they’d been clawing their way up his throat all night. “I miss you so much it feels like I can’t breathe without you.”

“James,” you whispered, your voice strained. It was the way you used to say his name when you were trying to reason with him, to pull him back from whatever reckless path he was on. But now, it sounded different- sharper, more distant, like you were trying to remind yourself of the boundaries you’d set.

“I-” James started, his words slurring together, “I wish it was me. That it was me next to you right now, not him. It should’ve been me, yeah? It was always supposed to be me…”

You didn’t answer immediately, and the silence was unbearable. He could hear faint noises in the background- a creak, a soft rustling- and then, Avery’s voice, distant but clear, calling your name.

James’s heart seized in his chest. “No- don’t go. Please.” His voice broke, desperation dripping from every word. “Just- stay on the line. Don’t hang up, don’t leave me. Please.”

“James,” you said again, but this time it was different. Your voice was firmer, tinged with something he couldn’t quite place- regret, maybe, or guilt. “You shouldn’t have called.”

“Wait!” James shouted, gripping the phone tighter as though he could hold you there. “Don’t- just, please. Don’t hang up. Please, I-”

“James!” a sharp voice cut through his spiral, and he turned to see Sirius standing in the doorway of the flat’s tiny kitchen. He was barefoot, wearing only a pair of boxers and a shirt that was unmistakably Remus’s, the sleeves too long for his arms. His dark hair was messy, and his brows were drawn together in concern.

Behind him, Remus appeared, his face etched with worry as he rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. “What the hell is going on?” He asked, his tone softer than Sirius’s but no less serious.

James didn’t answer. His eyes darted between his friends and the phone in his hand, his grip tightening as though it were the only thing tethering him to reality. He barely registered the sound of your voice on the other end, hurried and quiet, before it cut out completely.

You’d hung up.

[deatheaterv]

ENDEARING

pairing : james potter x fem!reader

genre : fluff

summary : james potter teases you ALOT

it started small. james potter, hogwarts’ golden boy, had taken a liking to you, and the entire school seemed to know it. at first, it was easy to ignore—the odd smirk across the great hall, a wave during transfiguration, and the occasional “you’re looking radiant today, y/n!” whenever he passed you in the corridors.

but then he ramped it up.

one morning, you were walking to charms when you heard it.

“oi, y/n! i’ve decided i’m gonna marry you!”

you froze mid-step, the bustling corridor falling silent as every single person turned to look at you. your eyes widened in horror, and you whipped around to see james standing at the other end, his hands cupped around his mouth as he grinned like a lunatic.

“what do you say? sound like a good plan?” he called out, his voice echoing down the corridor.

“i say you’re insufferable, potter!” you shouted back, your face burning.

he clutched his chest dramatically, pretending to stagger backward. “ah, rejection. but don’t worry, love, i’ll win you over eventually!”

you stormed off, ignoring the muffled laughter and whispers from the other students.

it didn’t stop there.

a week later, you were in herbology, carefully trimming a particularly aggressive fanged geranium when james sauntered up to your station.

“looking good, y/n,” he said, leaning against the table with a cocky grin. “but you’d look even better if you let me take you out.”

you didn’t even look up. “potter, if you don’t leave me alone, i’ll feed you to this plant.”

“you’re feisty. i like that,” he teased, wagging his eyebrows.

“and you’re annoying,” you shot back, finally meeting his gaze.

he clutched his heart as if you’d stabbed him. “you wound me again, darling. one of these days, you’ll see how charming i am.”

“don’t hold your breath,” you muttered, focusing back on the plant.

the next day, he upped the ante.

you were sitting in the library, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when james appeared, plopping down in the seat across from you.

“potter,” you groaned, not even looking up.

“just thought i’d keep you company,” he said, resting his chin on his hand as he stared at you.

“don’t you have quidditch practice or something?”

“i canceled it. you’re more important.”

you rolled your eyes. “please stay away.”

“sure, but a kiss first?”

“you’re unbelievably irritating,” you finally looking up to glare him.

he just laughed, completely unfazed. “come on, y/n, admit it. you’d regret it if you don’t want to.”

“not likely,” you muttered, though the faint smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

the teasing didn’t stop, but over time, you found yourself less annoyed by it. there was something about james’ relentless determination that was almost endearing.

one afternoon, you were sitting by the lake, enjoying the quiet, when james appeared out of nowhere, flopping down beside you.

“don’t you ever get tired of bothering me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“never,” he said, grinning. “so, what do you say? want to grab dinner with me tonight?”

“is this your way of asking me out?” you asked, giving him a skeptical look.

“obviously. i’m very subtle,” he said, smirking.

you couldn’t help but laugh. “you’re ridiculous, potter.”

“ridiculously in love with you,” he shot back, his grin widening.

you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed at his words.

then there was the moment that truly caught you off guard.

it was a late afternoon in the courtyard, and you were sitting with lily evans, enjoying the crisp autumn air. james, as usual, appeared out of nowhere, his hair even messier than usual.

“y/n,” he said loudly, dropping to one knee in front of you.

“what are you doing?” you asked, your eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“making a declaration,” he said, pulling a small flower out of his pocket. it was slightly squished, but the gesture was oddly sweet.

“oh, merlin,” lily muttered.

“y/n, will you do me the honor of..”

“potter, i swear to god—“

“-letting me carry your books for the rest of the week?” he finished, grinning as he held out the flower.

you couldn’t help it, you laughed. james potter, for all his arrogance and teasing, was nothing if not persistent.

“fine,” you said, taking the flower. “but just for this week.”

“that’s all i need,” he said, standing up and flashing you a triumphant grin.

as much as you hated to admit it, james potter was growing on you. and maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind being the center of his attention.

[sun-kissy]

🧣 maybe james potter + “you’re already wearing half of my clothes, i genuinely don’t see how us cuddling will make this any weirder” with a friends to lovers...? 👀

thank you for the request! here's your scarf lovely :)🧣

— "You're already wearing half of my clothes, I genuinely don't see how us cuddling will make this any weirder."

james potter x reader

tw: fluffy fluff, james is a flirt <3

“Hey.”

You look up to see none other than James Potter grinning at you as he walks down the stairs. He has one hand raking through his curls, the other fist pressed against his hip. A cramped muscle, by the looks of it. His shirt rides up the slightest bit — giving you an unobstructed view of his abdomen.

“Hi,” you reply, hoping you don’t sound as breathless as you feel. “Hi, James.” You sit up straighter, flattening the unruly strands of hair on your head and readjusting your crumpled clothes. Your heart felt like it was going to jump right out of your throat.

James lets out a quiet chuckle when he notices you forcibly trying to look away. “What are you doing up so late?”

He drapes himself across the other end of the couch, teasingly raising his shirt higher. You feel your mind go blank. You swear you’re trying to meet his eyes, but your gaze gets stuck on his biceps, glistening and chiseled in the dim glow from the fireplace.

“I… um… I…” you squeak, mouth opening and closing like an idiot.

James hums almost teasingly, less like he’s acknowledging your answer and more like he’s thinking about the lack of one. He looks at you with a hint of bemusement and something else you can’t place.

“Use your words, pretty girl.”

“Oh – um… I dunno… I’m just, uh,” you clear your throat with a nervous chuckle, desperately looking around you. Your saviour comes in the form of a book, lying half-opened next to you. Remus must have mistakenly left it here.

“I’m reading,” you hold it up quickly, with a feeble attempt at a casual smile. You’re flustered and you know he knows it.

“Reading, huh?”

“Mhm.”

James raises an eyebrow like he doesn’t quite believe you. “Whatcha reading?”

You quickly turn the book over to look at the cover, and he sniggers. “It’s uh…” you squint, the title in some foreign language. Remus and his stupid multilingual tongue. You open your mouth, determined to make up some gibberish answer.

“You don’t know what you’re reading?”

“No, no! I do, but um…”

“Let me have a look at it,” he interrupts, a hint of teasing in his tone. You feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as he leans over, fingers making you dizzy when they brush against yours.

James takes the book, but doesn’t spare it a glance. He’s looking at you.

His gaze flicks over you for a moment, expression morphing into a lot of different things before settling on a smile. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

You blink, surprised. You look down, and cringe – you’d meant to pull on one of Sirius’ ones, but with how messy the boys’ room was, you must’ve gotten mixed up. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry.”

He lets out a breath of laughter at the panic in your tone, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

James starts to frown when your expression doesn’t let up. You looked so guilty, it made his heart squeeze in awful ways.

“I really am sorry, I –”

“Seriously,” he interrupts, softening. “It’s no problem. Plus, you look absolutely lovely.”

Your eyes widen a fraction, the compliment sending a shot of giddiness through you. James' lips quirk up when he catches the hints of a shy smile on your lips.

You’re saved from having to respond by a sudden sound, a quiet snuff from beside you. Both of you quickly turn to the source of it, the room plunging into a much darker light. The fire had been snubbed out.

The dip in temperature was palpable instantly. You hadn’t noticed how much warmth the fire had been providing, but now that it was gone, the chill in the air was obvious. You curl into yourself with a shaky exhale.

“There’s no more firewood,” James mutters, more to himself. He turns to you, eyebrows twitching when he realises that you’re shivering. “Are you cold?”

“Um… a little.”

“C’mere.”

You blink at him. “Huh?”

“Come here,” he says easily, arms opening up in invitation as he pats the spot next to him.

“Like, for a hug?” Your voice sounds unnaturally high.

James exhales on a chuckle. “Yeah, sure. A hug, cuddles, whatever’s gonna help you warm up.” He pauses, eyebrows bunching up. “Look at you, sweetheart. You’re freezing.”

You stay stubbornly put, heart thudding against your ribs. You gnaw the inside of your cheek hesitantly.

James lets out an amused sigh, rolling his eyes fondly. “You’re already wearing half of my clothes, I genuinely don’t see how us cuddling will make this any weirder.”

That cracks you up a little, and James is quite proud of himself for the smile he manages to pull from you. 

“Okay,” you mumble.

Slowly, you scoot closer to him. He waits patiently, not until you’re within arms length, but until you curl up to him. Only then does he wrap his arms around you, the gentlest touch his calloused hands will allow him.

“Is this alright?”

You nod happily, relaxing into the softness of his body. He rubs your back. Even if the cold doesn’t immediately go away, the uncomfortableness sure does.

A while later, you tell James that you feel warmer. He grins and pulls you a little closer.

san's christmas sleepover

[allllium]

✿ Best James Potter Fics on Tumblr ❀

> Fluff <

Sunday-Side-Up

Tattoo

↳ [ @dearharriet ]

Insecure ~ [ @moonlightspencie ]

Heart Chaser ~ [ @empress-simps ]

Flustered ~ [ @maraudersmyloves ]

I have a girlfriend ~ [ @moonstruckme ]

A Quick Kiss ~ [ @fourmoony ]

Love Letters ~ [ @amiableness ]

Scars to Your Beautiful ~ [ @once-upon-an-imagine ]

Post Nap Hug ~ [ @inkdrinkerworld ]

What Girlfriends do ~ [ @wzrd-wheezes ]

> Hurt/Comfort <

First Choice ~ [ @fourmoony ]

> Angst <

Gold Rush ~ [ @pretty-little-mind33 ]

Cause you Weren't Mine to Lose ~ [ @hoaxriot ]

I Want to be Loved First ~ [ @livinginshambles ]

[novvabee]

Training for the Ballet Potter?🩰

summary: James Potter x Reader, James takes a ballet class and crushes on the teacher (you)

cw: sexist remarks? it is kind of just gender stereotypes of ballet I guess, i didn't proof read this so just pretend it's good for me

word count: 2.6K

James thought that he might actually quit. This was ridiculous in every sense of the word. It was humiliating and a cruel punishment for sure.

His quidditch coach had the brilliant idea of signing the whole team up for ballet classes. Ballet, as in, turns and tiptoes and tights. This was emasculating to him, so beneath his training and dedication to the sport he should be practicing. 

His coach announced the classes on the last day of spring training. He stated that they were to attend every class until their season starts, no exceptions. He went on and on about how it would benefit the team to become more agile and graceful. But James didn’t understand the logic at all, he needed to be quick, strong, sturdy. Not exactly what ballerinas are known for. 

His coach emphasized the fact that these lessons were mandatory by stating that those who fail to attend would be cut from the team. He was not joking. A few of his teammates tried to protest, but his coach made the ultimatum. He said that if they wanted to be professionals and play on this prestigious team, they would learn grace and elegance in their training.

James loved and valued his position on the team, so he wasn't so fast to say no to these lessons. He was also trying to become captain of the team this year, and pretending to be excited and grateful for these lessons seemed like a way to earn him some brownie points.

So he pretended to the best of his abilities, he got the team together to encourage or change their attitudes, saying that it would be a great experience for the summer and that it was only three months of these lessons. Well, two lessons every week for three months, but that still wasn’t too bad.

When the coach overheard some of the team still complaining about ballet, he made them run and condition until half of them were throwing up. He was not here to play about these lessons.

“Got your leotard?” Sirius teased James from the couch. He had his head resting in Remus’s lap. 

James had lived with his two best friends since the end of school and he couldn’t be happier. Well, he could do with a little less of the making out and the groping he would catch every now and then, but he couldn’t blame them both, they were happy and in love. He just… didn’t need to see it all the time. And now, he didn’t need to be teased to add insult to injury.

“No.” James replied, rolling his eyes. He grabbed his red workout bag with his team’s logo from the opposite couch that his friends were sitting on and slung it over his shoulder.

“I think it’ll be good for you, Prongs,” Remus chimed in, “You could learn a thing or two about grace.”

James again rolled his eyes. He wasn’t in the mood, he was sore from yesterday’s practice, and was now about to prance around like an idiot for an hour.

“I just need to get through this,” James said. “I want to look good when my coach is choosing captains this season.” 

“Anything for that position, eh, Prongsie?” Sirius chuckled from Remus’s lap. “Look on the bright side though, you’ll be surrounded by fit girls in tight clothes and tiny skirts.” 

Remus smacked the top of his head for the comment, earning an ‘ouch’ and small apology. Remus rolled his eyes this time, annoyed by his lover’s crude statement.

James supposed that there was that to look forward to, he would never say it out loud like Sirius, but he was… intrigued by the idea. His male teammates were all put into the Monday/Wednesday classes with a strict teacher apparently. He was selected for the Tuesday/Thursday classes, which he found out were much smaller and taught by a new, younger teacher. A few of his teammates made sure to let him know how lucky he in fact was, the Monday/Wednesday teacher sounded like a hard-ass and a mean old witch.

Another bright side of the classes was that he would be with Marlene, one of his best friends on the team. If he had to endure this torture, he was glad to do it with her at least. It was actually Marlene who was picking him up so they could go to the lesson together. She should be here in about… now.

James bid farewell to his friends and raced out the door before any of the last minute teasing could make it to his ears, and rushed out to where Marlene was waiting in her car for him.

“Hey,” he greeted her, sliding into the passenger seat of her car which felt much too tiny for him to squeeze into. 

“Ready for the ballet Potter?” she giggled, wiggling her brows as she put the car in drive. James found it quite humorous, the two of them, going to their first ballet lesson. The two of them who look like they should keep far away from anything to do with ballet. James, who was a 6’1 burly man with all the elegance of a rhino and knocked into possibly every piece of furniture he owned on a daily basis, and Marlene, with chipped black nails and a self-cut mullet who looks like she would eat the posh little ballerinas for lunch.

Sooner than he would have liked, they reached the dance studio. Marlene parked and they both just sat there for a moment breathing in deep. He turned to her and saw the look that he himself was wearing. One of regret and annoyance. 

“Come on Marls, it's an hour and then we’re done.’’ James reminded her. 

She groaned but opened her door and slipped out.

They both made their way to the door of the building. He opened it and allowed Marlene to walk through first, pretending that it was just a courteous, gentlemanly thing to do, but in all reality, he was just holding onto any time he could have left not doing ballet.

He stepped into the building and into a crowded area with chairs and fake plants, a waiting room for the parents coming to pick up their little ballerinas from lessons. The waiting room was littered with moms scrolling on their phones and looking at their watches. Great.

James and Marlene had to wait for the teacher to come get them and escort them into the correct studio. Marlene plopped herself in a chair and motioned for James to do the same, but he just stood and lingered around the area.

James heard a door open and the chatter and giggles of many children. He heard many “Thank you miss Y/N”s and “Bye miss Y/N”s followed by a flood of little girls all dressed in colorful leotards and skirts filling the waiting room. The children all ran up to their respective mothers and told them about their lesson and how nice their new teacher was and that they all got stickers and how fun everything was. Some of the little girls eyed James and Marlene up and down, Marlene just stared back until the girls got scared and ran over to their adult.

As soon as the chaos broke into the little waiting room, it left. The last little girl put on her pink sparkly light up shoes and bounded out the door with her parent. This reassured everything that James had already felt; that this was useless, meant for little girls. Definitely not quidditch players, definitely not James.

He heard the door open again and turned to see a small woman, about his age, walk out with a clipboard. Her hair was pulled up into a bun. She was clad in a pink leotard and matching pink skirt, light pink tights, and pink ballet shoes. She was pretty, not in a typical perfect ballerina way, but in an entirely different way. James was definitely not expecting someone like her to be in a studio like this, let alone to be teaching.

Her eyes snapped up from what she was reading on her clipboard and instantly lit up.

“Oh hello!” she squeaked. “Are you two here for the 4:00 class?” 

“Uh, yeah.” James replied.

“Perfect! You’re right on time. I’m Y/N, by the way, I’ll be your instructor. You can follow me right in here to studio B.” she said, motioning them to follow her down the hall to the studio. Marlene stood and the both followed. “And here we are,” She said, turning on the light switch, allowing for a better view of the studio.

It was a very small room with light hardwood floors, mirrors lining the back wall. There were mats stacked up in the corner and two parallel bars mounted on the two walls without mirrors.

“You two can go ahead and set your stuff on the wall with the mirrors and then we can get started with stretching.” she announced chipper.

“Aren’t we going to wait for the rest of the class to show up?” Marlene asked from beside James.

“Oh no, you two are the whole class.” She smiled. “You can think of it more like a private lesson, more one on one.”

Private ballet lessons… Sirius was going to have a field day. He looked over at Marlene who just shrugged and made her way to the mirror wall to set her stuff down. James followed.

“It’s just us?” James whisper yelled to Marlene, trying not to let the instructor hear. 

“Is that a problem?” Marlene asked back. “She’s hot.”

James just huffed and pulled off his jacket, tossing it in his bag. 

“Look Potter, think of it this way,” She tried to reason with him, “Now there’s less people to look like an idiot in front of. All of the embarrassing moves will stay just between us three.” She smiled and James nodded his head, feeling like maybe it was a blessing to be in such a small class. “But… I can’t promise I won't make fun of you or use it against you.” She joked.

“Alright, are you both ready?” Y/N asked sweetly. They both nodded and made their way to the center of the room where she was waiting for them. “Alright first things first, welcome to ballet! My name is Y/N, you don't have to call me Miss or anything like the little ones do, just Y/N is fine” She said, her eyes glowing.

 Marlene was right, she was hot. But James wouldn’t be that forward about it, she was incredibly beautiful. If James could do with a touch of grace, she was bathed in it, dripping in it. She radiated confidence and elegance. James didn’t know what to do with his hands all of a sudden.

“I understand that your coach has signed you both up?” She asked. Marlene nodded in confirmation. “Ok, that is perfectly fine, we teach a lot of different athletes here at this studio. But in all honesty, I am a bit new to all of this,” She blushed, looking to the floor, “I mostly work with beginner classes and children so, bear with me.” 

She looked back at them and smiled. “Now, usually we require ballet shoes, but I won't require them for you two, socks or barefoot will be just fine.” she explained. “It is also better if you could wear things that are a little bit tighter. You don’t have to wear leos, but I need to be able to see the lines of your bodies better, so leggings, shorts, tank tops, those are all great!”

She was so cheery. Not only was she elegant and grateful, but kind and bubbly. James felt this warmth within the pit of his stomach now.

“Lastly, I want you two to have fun. I know that this is very different for you but, I promise I will make it as fun and educational for you so that you benefit the most that you can from this experience.” She finished, eyes sparking again.

“Alright with all that being said, let’s start our warm up!” she said.

Y/N led them through a series of stretches, most just like the ones they did at quidditch practice, others that were uncomfortable and pulled on his tight muscles. She assured them that with time, those stretches would get easier.

After, she led them to the bars mounted on one of the walls. She taught them the different positions of ballet; first, second, third, etc.. She taught them plies and releve, coupe and passe, and other French words he didn’t understand and would need to be repeated to him most likely all summer.

“Good Marlene.” James heard Y/N critique from where she was situated behind him. For all the gripe that she gave, Marlene was actually pretty decent at all this.

All of a sudden James felt hands on his abdomen and back, straightening his back into the correct posture. He was startled but continued on.

“There you go,” Y/N chuckled. “And..” she began but cut herself off by setting her hands atop his broad shoulders, pushing down on them. “You gotta relax, your shoulders are too tense. We don’t want them up by our ears,” She said, demonstrating to him by pulling her own shoulders up. “We want an elongated line from our neck and down our spine.” She explained, relaxing her shoulders and looking perfect. 

Next Y/N ran them through some basic turns and steps and they practiced by repeating them across the floor. James couldn’t believe this but, he was actually getting a pretty good workout. He was using muscles he didn’t even know he had, and he knew that if he dared mention that he was sore from ballet in front of Remus and Sirius, they would never let him live it down.

Time actually flew, and class was over before he knew.

“Great job today.” She said to them both, smiling as James caught her eye.

“I heard you give out stickers.” Marlene mentioned, mischief laced in her voice, making Y/N giggle. James loved the sound, decided that he wanted to do anything, everything in his power to hear that again. Hear it forever if he can.

She walked over to where her clipboard lay on the other side of the room, picked it up, then returned to where James and Marlene were now packing up. She peeled off a smiley face that said ‘awesome’ and placed it on Marlene’s shirt. Marlene smiled and started out the door. 

Y/N peeled another off, a star that said ‘you did great’ and placed it on James’s shirt. She pressed it into the fabric, making sure it stuck. James felt the warmth of her fingers radiate through his shirt and into his skin. 

He smiled at her and made his way after Marlene. He turned back to say “See you Thursday!”

She smiled back, waving goodbye to him and repeating that she would see them on Thursday.

Exiting the studio and climbing back into Marlene’s car, James couldn’t get rid of the goofy smile that etched itself into his face. Marlene looked at him and shook her head. “Don’t make it too obvious, Twinkletoes.” She mocked him with a new and reactive nickname.

“What are you talking about?” James asked, pulling his seatbelt on.

“Your little crush.” Marlene said plainly.

James wasn't going to deny it, so what if he had a little crush on the cute ballet teacher? She was gorgeous and so warm. He liked to see the passion in her eyes when she was explaining ballet to them. 

He couldn’t believe it and he would probably never say it out loud but he was excited for his ballet lesson on Thursday.

i wrote this cause I miss ballet and love the athlete x ballerina trope. also ballerinas are in fact athletes, dance is a sport ❤️🎀🩰 also please let me know if you would like to be added to any tag lists

taglist 🍓: @navs-bhat

[elegantlyeva]

Hi! if you are up for it can you write something with James potter and ice skating? Maybe r has been ice skating for years and James hasn't ever stepped foot on ice but is amazing somehow?

DAY TWO

Unfairly Balanced

Summary: James was much too good at ice skating for it to be his first time.

Word Count: 0.4K 

It was the last time you were ever going to be comforted by the fact that James Potter might be bad at something just because he had never tried it.

He was skating circles around you, for Merlin's sake.

The huff you let out caused him to laugh. "What’s wrong, sweetheart?" His tone was a mix of fondness and teasing.

The glare on your face intensified. “I’m the one who takes lessons. Shouldn’t I be better than my supposedly amateur skating boyfriend?”

He shrugged. “I’m a quick learner.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’ve been here five minutes.”

He was about to say something—likely a joke, you presumed—but before he could, a first year went tumbling into you. Before you could fall, James grabbed your upper arms to steady you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, slightly embarrassed after scolding him just five minutes earlier for being good at the sport.

The first year stood up, muttering apologies profusely, until you waved the poor kid off.

You turned to face James. “Sorry. I’m being unfair. I’m happy you’re doing so well. I just wanted to help you…” Then you admitted, “That’s not true. I wanted to make fun of you first, then help you.”

He let out a cheerful laugh, the apples of his cheeks red from the cold. “Sorry, love. This is what happens when you have a multi-talented boyfriend.”

You replied dryly, “Ha. Ha.” Still, you were more than happy when he took your hand to skate around the edge of the frozen lake.

Another hour and a half passed before most of the students had left. The sun was setting, and you were ready to go inside too—your skating had become sloppy from exhaustion.

James looked perfectly fine, unaffected by the time spent skating.

“I don’t understand. It took me at least 30 minutes to skate without holding the wall, much less do laps around an area at the speed you’re going.” A hint of jealousy peeked through your tone, and James had the decency to look a bit sorry, maybe even guilty.

He skated to your side, hugging your waist until you were pressed against him, and kissed your pout away.

Once he heard your laughter, he let up his attack and helped you off the ice.

It wasn’t until later that you figured out what had really happened.

“Come on, love,” James groaned, following you like a puppy.

“I knew it! I knew that would've been impossible for you. I thought you were some gifted natural.” You were half-ecstatic, walking out of the Great Hall after Remus had accidentally revealed that James had asked him to charm his skates so they would skate for him.

“We got to skate together. Wasn’t that more fun than having to teach me?”

“No. Watching you fall would’ve been more amusing.”

He rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around you. “Yeah, well,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple, “I’ll make it up to you.”

[writtenbymoonflower]

omg i have a request !!! i don't think our bb james is much of a fighter, but imagine if someone just say something about reader that just hits a nerve, and poor bb literally gives himself a panic attack, to a point where reader is just pushing him away and trying to get him to breathe with her :((( just reassuring him and giving him all the love in the world !!! ofc u don't have to if u don't wanna ily !!!

i love this! thank you so much hunny! James Potter x fem!reader

cw: mentions of drinking, pressuring someone to drink, ‘b word’ used as a derogatory term, swearing

735 words

Despite the bitter chill in the air, you felt clammy and cramped. The campfire radiating warmth into your face was pleasant, but the overcrowding of bodies sitting next to you wasn’t as much. You leaned onto James’ chest, snuggling closer when he put a long arm around your shivering shoulders. The night was winding down from Sirius’ party, only a few people remained, all sharing the leftover drinks around the fire. The small amount of alcohol you had drank that night was sitting in your stomach like a brick and you couldn’t wait to get home and sleep it off. Your eyes were just drifting closed when they snapped wide open, a cold bottle pressed against painfully your bare shoulder. 

You looked up to see the person next to you trying to hand off a beer bottle to you. He was looking at you nicely enough, but you still declined. 

“I’m okay, thank you though.” You gave him a polite smile before turning back to James, who you could tell was reigning in his overprotectiveness. 

“C’mon, girly. One won’t hurt.” He pressed the bottle closer. “You’re not even buzzed, I can tell.” 

You stayed friendly but your tone was firmer. “I promise I’m fine. I’m sure someone else wants another though.” You cut your eyes to Remus and Sirius and their pile of empty beer and cider bottles next to them, laying scattered like an army fallen. 

“You sure?” The man sing-songed, pressing the cold bottle to your neck, wet with condensation. You flinched away. 

“Mate, pack it in. She said she didn’t want any.” James pulled you closer protectively. He wasn’t necessarily harsh, but the lack of joviality in his tone was chilling for those who know him well. The man took on a defensive nature, but was still attempting to appease James. 

“I’m doing this for you man.” He waggled his brows at James knowingly. “I’m sure she’s loads more fun loosened up.” You felt James stiffen but he didn’t have a chance to respond before the man looked at you, half joking, half irritation. “C’mon stop being such a frigid bitch and have a drink.” 

James shot up, swiftly moving so that he was between you and the man. “What the fuck did you just say?” The guy was floundering, backpedaling fast. 

“I’m just playing! Didn’t think you would be upset, shit.” He scooted away from your seething boyfriend. 

“You didn’t think I would be upset that you called my girlfriend a- that word? Are you really that fucking thick?” James snapped. He got closer to the guy's face before you tugged his hand. 

“James, calm down, it’s okay.” You stood up to gently tug him away. 

“Yeah, man. Listen to your bird-” He started, but then James snapped his head back, eyes ablaze. 

“McLaggen, mate, just leave.” Sirius said, harshly. 

“What? Sirius, c’mon. It’s a jo-” He stood up. Remus marched over, helping him to get his stuff. 

“Well it wasn’t fucking funny. You don’t say that shit here.” Remus said coldly. Their chatter moved away as he marched the offending man away from the fire. James looked like he was going to yell something after him, but he stopped. 

“It’s okay, Jamie.” You soothed, pulling him away as well. 

“It’s not.” He reiterated. “I can’t belie- I’m so sorry angel. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” He hugged you tight. 

“I’m okay, he didn’t. You don’t need to be sorry. It was just a stupid guy, not nearly the worst I’ve encountered.” You laughed.

“That does not make it better.” He huffed like an angry puppy. “I can’t believe some people think that’s an okay thing to call a girl. My mam would’ve had my head if I ever said that.” 

“Not everyone is as amazing as you, honey. And a lot of people are worse than that guy.” You rubbed a hand up and down his tense arm. 

He at you wide-eyed. “Okay, well firstly, someone isn't 'amazing' for not being an asshole, that's just not being horrendous. And secondly.” He was half concern half immense confusion. “Who all has been like that to you? How many lads have been like him? I want names and dates, lovely.” 

“James,” You lovingly scoffed. “I love you. I love how protective you are of me, but I really am okay. Some people are just dickheads, it’s part of life.” 

He grunted, pulling you back into his arms. “Just because it's a part of life doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He kissed the top of your head firmly. “I love you too.” 

“Do you want to go back?” You asked softly, rubbing the thick curls at the base of his neck.

“Can we stay like this for a bit longer? I just- need to hold onto you.” His biceps strained around you from how tightly you were being held.

You nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his comforting scent. “Okay.”

[fictional-magic]

listen here, south indian james potter randomly calls sirius and remus "maachaa" in the middle of a convo ('buddy' in tamil) i'm serious

[sun-kissy]

so cute and comforting omg 😭😭😭 i love the last line sm 🥹💗

Everything to Everyone

James Potter x fem!reader

WC: tbh I don’t know, I just raw-dogged this in the app

CW: ANGST, HURT-COMFORT, panic attack, r is very sad and doesn’t take care of herself

Summary: you can’t keep doing this

A/n: Don’t know what this is; might be garbage; but this is just a reflection of my brain and my desperate need for someone like to james to comfort me rn; I need to be someone’s everything 😭

<>

It’s all too much, trying to be everything for everyone all of the time. It consumes you- the need to help others, to serve them in any way possible. To be their shoulder to cry on. The arms to hold them. The voice cheering them on. The hands to build them castles in the sky.

Perhaps it’s founded in your insatiable hunger to be well-liked, loved even.

Maybe it’s rooted in your fear that everyone will leave you, and that maybe maybe, if you try hard enough, they won’t.

Regardless of its cause, your involuntary obligation to others has pushed you to the edge, leaving you broken and exhausted. You want to cry out for help, for someone to notice, but they don’t. It’s not their fault. You know it isn’t. They can’t read your mind for goodness sake. But still, you wish they’d notice. To stop and think about you for a moment.

Today is no different, your list of promises to others longer than the one to yourself. Although it’s a Saturday, your day is jam packed with plans. First, you’ve promised Peter that you’ll make a quick trip with him to Hogsmeade this morning to pick up fire whiskey for the party tonight. After that you’re due for tea with Mary at Madame Pudifoots before you have to rush back to Hogwarts to meet Remus and Lily for a study session in the library. And fuck- at some point you’ll have to stitch up a hole in Marlene’s jersey and braid Sirius’ hair for the game. And the game. You’ve promised James, your lovely boyfriend and captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team, that you’ll be there. He needs his “lucky charm.”

You’re down in the common room at 10 on the nose, sleep still heavy on your eyes despite the time. Peter ambles down the stairs a few minutes later, his big jacket wrapped tightly around him.

The cold air outside is bitter on your nose and burns your cheeks. You bundle your face further into the collar of your coat and wish you would’ve worn a scarf. As you walk, Peter yaps on to you about the girl from his Divination class that he has a crush on. You’re enthusiastic that he has a crush, and that he feels comfortable enough to share it with you, but your heart hangs heavy in your chest regardless. You can’t quite muster up the genuine smile you usually give to everyone, and instead settle for a dim but encouraging one.

After you triple check that Peter can carry all of the fire whiskey back to the castle, you trudge across the way to Madame Pudifoots. Mary is already nestled into a corner when you arrive and she waves brightly at you. While the warmth of the shop and your friend is welcome, the thick perfume in the air and the sweet array of biscuits and cookies makes your head ache and stomach churn. Much like Peter, the brunette does most of the talking, catching you up on gossip around the castle. You give a lot of dramatic gasps, wide eyes, and giggles, but they’re as fake as the flowers on the table before you.

By the time you arrive to the library with what feels like a whole ton of books slung over your shoulder, you think you could drop dead from exhaustion. You find Lily and Remus in a heated discussion about some charms theory and wonder if they’d even notice if you slipped out. Of course, Lily catches your eye in the next second and waves you over. She quickly brings you into the debate, and you give the redhead your two cents. Your opinion, it seems, sets off a whole other conversation. Luckily, this time, you can just tune them out, instead focusing on the words of the book before you. Although now that you’re looking at it, all of the words seem to be swimming together in a blurry mess. And, is that a wet spot on the page? Are you crying? You reach up and, sure enough, another hot tear trails down your face. Panicked, you bend down under the guise of tying your shoe and wipe them away quickly. Remus and Lily can’t see you crack. They can’t.

You know that it’s all really getting to you when Sirius lets out more than one yelp as you do his hair. He complains that you’re going to pull it all out, and perhaps he isn’t wrong. You loosen your grip slightly but wince when you brush over one of the fresh cuts on your hands from sewing up Marlene’s jersey. The bandaid covers the cut, but doesn’t dull the slight throbbing pain in your palm. The pain and Sirius’ whining makes you want to yell at him and tell him to do it himself. But you don’t, and instead stay quiet. When his hair is finished, you peck his forehead in apology and boost his vanity.

“Oi, Black! Trying to steal my girl, are you?”

You nearly start bawling on the spot at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. Relief and calm wash over you as you feel his strong arms wrap around you. Instinctively, you lean back into his chest and sigh, closing your eyes.

You’re certain that Sirius and James are bantering back and forth some more but you tune them out in favor of enjoying the vibrations of your boyfriend’s voice through his chest. It’s pleasant enough that you think you could fall asleep.

You’re only startled out of your stupor when James’ soft lips press gentle kisses to each of your eyelids. Your eyes flutter open and you smile at him softly.

“Hi angel,” he greets, pecking your lips.

You return the kiss eagerly and James chuckles.

“Ready for the game tonight?”

You’d forgotten about the game momentarily, but now it comes rushing back. The thought of having to do anything else besides just lay in your boyfriend’s arms makes you want to cry. You swallow the lump in your throat, “of course, Jamie. And I’ll have your jersey on like usual.”

He gives you another quick peck, “my lucky charm.”

And then he’s moving away from you, far too fast for your taste, and you nearly whine. He collects his water and broom and turns back to you with a grin.

“See you at the game, love.”

You only whisper out a goodbye before he’s gone.

The game has been going on for far too long and you’re beginning to lose all feeling in your extremities. Like usual, James is playing great. And you’re proud of him, you really are. But you don’t want to be here anymore. You just want to lay in your bed and close off the world, rotting away in a puddle of self-induced misery.

But this fact in itself makes you feel worse than you already do. The guilt of it all- of being fake, insecure, and unsupportive- is eating you alive. Your friends deserve better. James deserves better.

It’s too much, too much, too much. And you feel like you’re suffocating.

So you’re beyond relieved when Gryffindor catches the snitch and you can leave. Though you normally stay to congratulate James, you don’t have it in you to do it. You figure you’ll see him later, so you rush back to the castle, trying to escape the notice of your friends.

While your bed calls to you most, living in a dorm doesn’t promise any privacy. So you go to the only place you know will- the room of requirement.

It accommodates you enough. The room has shifted into a remarkable replica of your bedroom back home. You collapse onto the bed instantly and your head barely hits the pillow before the sobs you’ve choked back all day finally escape you.

It’s like a dam breaking loose, a flood of emotions overcoming you. Sadness smashes into you like waves, guilt grips your throat tightly, choking you, anger heats your face, and self-loathing broils in your stomach. You can’t, can’t, can’t, can’t, can’t.

Why, why, why, why, why?

You’re so tired of giving, giving, giving. Being everything to everyone and nothing to yourself. Your body is a storm of emotions but your heart is the eye of the hurricane- silent and hollow.

You curl in on yourself, grabbing onto your legs tightly, trying to grip any sense of reality you have left. But your body shakes and your hands slip. It does little to ground you and you’re lost in another dimension, another reality. You can’t breathe, nothing feels real, and the world feels like it’s ending.

Nothing, nothing, nothing, everything, everything, everything.

“Angel, you gotta breathe for me.”

A voice breaks through your fog but you can’t focus in on what it’s saying.

“Baby, my love, look at me. You gotta take a breath.”

Through your shaking and tears you barely make out James’ figure. And when your eyes clear a little you see his eyes. It’s the first real thing you sense again, and you grasp onto it desperately. His hazel eyes stare at you, so calmly, and you get lost in them.

“Angel can you take a deep breath?”

You try to breathe but fail, only spluttering out short, shallow breaths.

“Not quite, my love. Here, match my breathing.”

James grabs your hand and puts it on his chest. You feel him breathe in deeply and hear him blow air past his lips.

“Like this.”

Still shaking aggressively, you try to inhale. Your breath is harsh and unstable, but at least longer and deeper. You purse your lips and blow, just like James does.

“That’s my girl. You’re doing it.”

You continue to breathe in and out. Each time, your breath slowly gets better. Stronger.

“Good, good. Can you tell me what happened?”

You try to think about all that’s happened and your breathing picks back up again. Tears prick at your eyes and you shake your head.

“No, no, no. It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m sorry, we won’t talk about it.”

Your body trembles and you nod appreciatively.

“Do you want a hug?”

“Y-yeah.”

You’re too weak to move towards him, so James reaches out and draws you into his lap. You bury your face in his chest and grip onto his jersey sleeves tightly. His hands rub soothing circles on your back, soft, slow, and repetitive. He intermittently places kisses to your hair, mumbling words of praise and encouragement in between.

The world starts to come back to you.

The soft sounds of James’ breathing and the whoosh of your shirt material under his hand.

His smell, a mixture of cologne and sweat.

His hot breath on your ear as he whispers to you.

His red jersey smushed against your face.

The remnants of your salty tears on your lips.

“I- I can’t keep doing this,” you mumble out. It’s barely audible, your voice hoarse from your meltdown.

“What’d you say, angel?”

“I can’t keep doing this, Jamie.”

He pulls you away from his chest and looks deeply into your eyes, his own so filled with concern.

“You can’t keep doing what?”

“Being everything to everyone all of the time. I- I can’t. It’s too much. I give and help and say yes when I can’t. But, but I can’t do it anymore.”

“Oh, my love,” James sighs, hugging you impossibly tighter, “you don’t have to, not anymore. You don’t have to be anything to anyone besides yourself. They’ll love you regardless. I promise.”

“But what if they don’t?” You whisper, your voice thick with tears.

“I’ll love you regardless. You’re my light, my love, my life just because you’re you.”

He pauses thoughtfully.

“You don’t need to be everything to everyone when you’re already everything to me. And hopefully soon, you can be everything to yourself.”

[moonstruckme]

summary: when James moves into your apartment, you need a bit of an adjustment period

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

You go downstairs the way a meerkat pokes its head out of its burrow. Cautious, watchful. When you spot James standing over a sizzling pan in the kitchen, it’s a bit of effort not to sigh, but you go anyway, hunger temporarily taking priority over solitude. It’s just going to have to be another quick meal.

“Hey.” James looks up from a recipe he’s reading on his phone, grinning at you. 

You press your lips together in a smile of response. The girl who’d occupied James’ room before him wouldn’t have bothered to acknowledge you, and frankly, you’d liked her for that. You’d had a mutually ambivalent relationship; you’d both paid your rent, ignored the other’s food in the fridge, and gone about your days as if you each had the apartment to yourself. She had to move out because the maintenance crew tattled on her for having a pet, and though James only moved in a week ago, he’s invited you to hang out with his friends every time they’ve come over. Which is often. (He’s at least considerate enough to always ask first, and you always say yes. Partially because they don’t make huge messes and partially because you don’t know how to reply to a yes/no question any other way.) 

You go to the fridge, tearing the aluminum foil off a half-empty can of beans and shaking it into a bowl. You put it in the microwave. James reaches to turn down the stove, and, like a frightened animal, you flinch away from him. He doesn’t seem to notice, only retreating to the opposite counter to give you more room. 

“How’s your day going?” he asks, leaning back on his forearms. 

“Not bad,” you say. Another thing about James is that in addition to his relentless geniality, he’s ferociously attractive. It takes all of your willpower not to let your eyes dip from his face to where his short sleeves conform to his biceps when he leans that way, but your face heats regardless. “Yours?” 

“Pretty good, actually.” He smiles easily. “It’s gorgeous out, have you felt the weather?” 

You shake your head. “I haven’t been out yet.” 

James nods like he knows this already, humming noncommittally. You think you spy a bit of judgment in his look, but you can’t be sure. “So,” he says, “I have something to ask you.” 

You tense. “Okay…” 

“I know you value your privacy, and I totally respect that, but I feel like as your roommate it’s my responsibility to at least ask.” 

You feel your eyes narrowing as you nod for him to continue. 

James schools his face into seriousness, a frown on his lips that looks like it doesn’t belong. “Do you not eat?” 

You laugh, relieved and bemused. “Of course I eat.”

The smile he gives you is strained, clearly for your benefit rather than his. “You sure about that? Because this morning I just saw you have one—one—piece of toast for breakfast, and then for lunch you had…what?” 

You shy, more because of his notice than anything else. The microwave beeps and you use it as an excuse to turn around. “Some cheese and crackers.” 

When you pivot with the steaming bowl, James is looking at you incredulously.

“They’re really filling!” 

“That’s a snack, love, not a meal. Both of those are snacks. Did you have anything else?” 

You hold up the bowl in your hand. “I’m about to have some beans.” 

His laugh is monosyllabic. Appalled. “You’re not serious.” 

You roll your eyes at him even as your face heats. “Listen, it’s not my most nutritious day, but I’ve been in a rush, and…” You were going to say more, but decide against it. “Anyway, there’s protein in the beans, so.” 

James isn’t having it. “And what?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Something.” He raises his eyebrows at you. “C’mon, spill, or I’m going to call your mum and tell her about your big day of—“ He draws quotes in the air, full lips curving he does “—beans and crackers.” 

“And toast,” you joke. James’ smile is small and short-lived. Does he really have your mum’s phone number? He can’t possibly. 

You sigh. “Okay, it’s nothing to do with you, but I…I’m a bit weird about being in the kitchen at the same time.” James’ thick eyebrows meet in the middle, and your shoulders hunch instinctively but you force yourself to finish explaining. “I just want to grab whatever is quickest and go before I make things awkward, or something. But I know it’s stupid.” You shake your head. You could burn the apartment to cinders with the heat from your face. “I don’t own the kitchen. You have every right to be here, and I’ll get used to it eventually. It’s just that you’re new to me right now.” 

James' expression clears. “Oh, you’re shy.” 

You must look even more embarrassed at that, because he hurries to say, “That’s alright, it’s good to know how you feel about things. And now I don’t have to call your mum.” He grins, and it widens when you make a tiny effort to reciprocate. “I don’t mind stepping out of the kitchen so you can cook every now and then.”

“You really don’t have to.” 

“It’s no trouble.” He waves you off. “Honestly, it’s too small for both of us to comfortably use at the same time anyway. Careful by the way, that pan’s hot.” 

You glance behind you, and you’ve backed yourself nearly into the stove. You move away, squeaking out a thanks. 

James’ smile softens. “I do hope you're right about getting used to me eventually, though.” He gives you a kind look, and you have no idea how he can maintain eye contact with that much sincerity in his big brown eyes. You envy the skill. “I’d like to get to be friends, but we’ve got time for that.” 

You’ve no clue how to respond, some deer-in-the-headlights instinct taking ahold of you, but James doesn’t seem to be expecting one. He reaches out to squeeze your shoulder, taking back his place at the stove. You take that as your cue to go.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Bed Hopper

Bsf!James Potter x Bsf!Reader

Summary: After creating a tradition of cuddling James before bed, you'd think you'd have the path down by now.

Wc: 1k

Cw: Nothing really, reader is asleep for most of this. Just fluff.

It was late, the boys' dorm. Peter’s soft snores filled the room and remained the only audible sound. James was half-asleep in his bed, waiting for you. He wouldn’t admit that was why he hadn’t fallen asleep yet- he’d convinced himself he was just restless- but the second he heard the soft creak of the dormitory door, his heart leapt like a Quidditch snitch.

You shuffled in, rubbing your eyes and muttering something incoherent about Marlene snoring too loud in your own dorm. Your steps were quiet, soft enough to wake none of the other boys. None except James, whose heart was thudding in anticipation.

But then, to his growing horror, he watched as you padded straight past his bed and crawled into Sirius’s.

His jaw dropped.

Sirius, who had been sprawled out half-asleep, cracked one eye open, taking a moment to register your form now curled up against his side. Then, with the unmistakable glint of mischief in his grey eyes, he smirked.

“Well, well, well,” Sirius whispered, just loud enough for James to hear. “Looks like I’ve been promoted to favorite pillow.”

James shot up, his duvet falling to his lap as he gawked at the scene. “What the-! Oi, what’re you doing?”

“Me?” Sirius replied innocently, though his smirk widened as he ran a hand through his messy hair. “I’m not doing anything, mate. She climbed in all on her own. Guess I’m just irresistibly comfortable.”

“Sirius,” James growled, shoving his glasses on his face and throwing back his blankets. He was out of bed in an instant, standing over Sirius with a look that would’ve been intimidating if not for the undeniable flush creeping up his neck. “You know that’s not- she’s just-”

“What? Sleeping? She looks bloody adorable, doesn’t she?” Sirius teased, lightly brushing a strand of hair from your face. Cooing sweetly when your nose briefly scrunched up at the contact. “Reckon I could get used to this.”

“Don’t you dare,” James hissed, his fists clenching at his sides.

Meanwhile, you, blissfully unaware of the brewing chaos, let out a soft sigh, burrowing further into Sirius’s chest. James’s glare darkened, and Sirius, the devil that he was, had to bite back a laugh.

“What’s the matter, Prongs?” Sirius drawled, his voice low and teasing. “Jealous?”

“No,” James lied immediately, his voice cracking just enough to betray him.

Sirius arched a brow, clearly enjoying himself. “Right, so you won’t mind if she stays here, then? I mean, I wouldn’t want to wake her up. Poor thing looks exhausted.”

James’s hazel eyes darted to you, still sound asleep, your fingers curled loosely against Sirius’s jumper. His stomach twisted at the sight, a wave of something hot and uncomfortable washing over him.

“Sirius,” he said through gritted teeth, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Move.”

“Fine, fine,” Sirius said with a dramatic sigh, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “But don’t blame me when she wakes up and wonders why you’re the one who smells like me.”

James ignored him, carefully sliding his arms under you and lifting you effortlessly from Sirius’s bed. You stirred slightly, blinking up at him with sleepy confusion.

“James?” you mumbled, your voice thick with drowsiness.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he murmured, his voice soft as he carried you back to his own bed. “Go back to sleep, love.”

You hummed in response, your head lolling against his chest as you drifted off again. James settled you onto his bed, tucking the blankets around you before climbing in beside you, his heart still pounding in his ears- it was almost deafening.

“You alright there, Prongs?” Sirius called from his bed, his voice laced with amusement.

“Shut it, Pads,” James muttered, but there was no real bite to his words. His attention was already back on you, your face peaceful in sleep as you curled against him like you always did.

And just like that, the jealousy melted away, replaced with the familiar warmth that came with having you close. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his chest aching with something too big to name.

Sirius gave one last parting shot before settling down himself. “Merlin Prongs, you've got it bad.”

James barely heard Sirius’s last quip, his ears buzzing with the sound of your soft, even breaths. His glasses had slipped down his nose as he lay back, the dim light of the room casting a golden glow across your face. Every little detail of you- your slightly parted lips, the way your hair tickled his arm, the weight of you pressed against his side- flooded his senses, overwhelming him with a wave of tenderness so fierce it almost hurt.

He exhaled slowly, trying to steady the pounding in his chest. Merlin, Sirius was right. He did have it bad. But it wasn’t something new; James had felt it for what felt like forever, buried beneath layers of friendship and denial.

But now, as you nuzzled closer in your sleep, mumbling something incoherent against his chest, the feeling clawed its way to the surface. It wasn’t just affection; it was something bigger, something didn't want to name but had always known was there.

James swallowed hard, his arm tightening around you instinctively as if holding you any closer might somehow ease the ache in his chest. It didn’t. If anything, it made it worse. How could something so simple- so innocent- feel so utterly consuming?

He tried to remind himself that you were his friend, his best friend, and nothing more. That’s all it had ever been. That’s all it could be. But the thought felt hollow now, especially with you curled up against him like you belonged there.

“Prongs, you still with us over there?” Sirius’s voice broke through the haze, quieter this time but still teasing.

James didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Instead, he pressed his lips to the top of your head in a gesture so soft it felt almost ghosting. His heart gave a painful lurch as he pulled back, his hazel eyes lingering on your face.

“Yeah,” he finally murmured, more to himself than to Sirius. “I’m here.”

But as he lay there, watching over you with a look that could only be described as lovesick, he knew deep down that wasn’t entirely true. Because some part of him- some overwhelming, unrelenting part- was completely, hopelessly, irrevocably yours. And that part of him? That part wasn’t coming back.

[sun-kissy]

Hi my love!!

I’d LOVE a scarf for Christmas.

Can I do James Potter and “please forget all the times where i complained about you being a hugger.”

Maybe where reader is not really a touchy person most of the time (cuz I’m not either lol).

Thank you! Love you!!!

here’s your scarf, lovely mk!!🧣thank you for the request, love you loads <333

phone | j.p.

— “Please forget all the times where I complained about you being a hugger.”

james potter x reader

summary: there’s a creep, and it’s cold outside. fortunately, james lives nearby

tw: creepy guy, protective james <3, sorry i know i said that most of the sleepover drabbles would be christmas themed but the only christmasy thing about this is that the weather’s cold 😭

“Make sure she gets home safe!” you yell to Mary over the din of the club, steering a very drunk Lily into her arms. She grins and flashes you a thumbs-up as you turn around to leave.

Your tipsy friend’s high-pitched giggles can be heard as you make your way out, your heart jumping on beat to the music. It’s not just loud, it’s booming, and paired with the blinding disco lights, acutely overstimulating.

When Mary had first suggested this place, you definitely had your reservations — more often than not, you spotted drunkards stumbling out with either bruises on their faces or girls on their arms. But you decided to tag along. Admittedly, it had been fun. Now you were more than ready to go home to the warmth of your bed.

You’re about to push the door open when you realise you’ve left your coat back at the table. You swivel back around to find Lily swaying side to side, bent over.

She lets out a bulky groan, and your lips curve into a slight grimace in anticipation. You open your mouth to warn somebody but it’s too late; she hurtles forward, throwing up over everything in a one metre radius — your coat included.

You turn back to the front door and swing it open with a barely concealed sigh, heels clicking against the pavement as you step outside.

Cold wind hits you like a slap in the face. You’re pretty sure that your shudder is audible, rows of teeth clacking against one another as you curl into yourself. 

The mini dress your friends had picked out for you does nothing to help. You tug the ends of it downwards, squeezing your thighs together and wrapping your arms around yourself in a desperate attempt to keep warm.

You glance at the road, frustration starting to nip at you. There seem to be no taxis in sight, demand raging high on a Friday night. Walking home wasn’t an option — it was way too far away and freezing was an understatement for how you felt right now. 

James’ house was nearby, but you had been pulling out all the stops to avoid him for the past few days. Not that you didn’t like him — on the contrary, you really, really liked him. A friend from high school had introduced you to him at a party and you were immediately smitten. He asked you out, and you’d been seeing each other for a couple of weeks. He was everything you could’ve wanted in a man, more than what you’d ever hoped for. You just spent a lot of time worrying you were going to screw it all up — hence never called when he asked you to, made up excuses not to meet when he wanted to. James deserved better.

“Darling!”

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the sudden voice, rough and sultry from behind you. You whip around, instinctively taking a step back as your eyes land on the long-haired man staggering around in front of the club. His face is tilted downwards, staring into his empty liquor bottle almost… sadly.

But then he looks up at you. His eyes are dark with desire, mouth curving into something vile. It scares you. “Come here, darling. Come here.”

“Go away.” You try to sound unafraid. It comes out on a shaky breath, betraying the anxiety clogging up your throat. You take a few more cautious steps backwards, eyes darting between the man in front of you and the path behind you.

Your hand is already reaching for your phone in your pocket as soon as he starts stumbling towards you. Your fingers feel heavy, turned to smudge as you switch it on and desperately click on James’ contact.

“I asked you,” the man growls, “to come here!” He takes bigger, unsteady steps towards you, liquor bottle smashed to the ground without a care in the world.

Your heart feels like it’s being roped out of your throat, mind turned to mush in your head. You press your phone to your ear, turning around and mustering the quickest steps possible in your 6-inch heels. The cold is all-consuming now, tearing at your skin like wild dogs to prey. But all that’s on your mind is getting home safe. 

You’re barely a few rings in when James’ voice cuts through. “Hello? Y/n, is that you?”

“James!”

“Y/n, sweetheart. God, have you been ignoring me? I was so worried, and thought you hated me, and — “

“James.” The panic in your voice must be really palpable, because he shuts up immediately. “Yeah?”

You glance backwards for a split second as you walk ahead, seeing that the man has sped up. His arms are outreached towards you, and he’s spewing dirty lines you’d kill never to hear again. The smirk on his face widens by the second.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” James’ concerned voice comes through again, and you snap your head forwards and exhale shakily.

“You know that club really close to your place, the one with the um… the huge statue of a horse outside? I’m near there. Could you please walk over and fetch me? There’s a creep, and it’s cold, and —“

“Hold on, there’s a creep?” His worry is obvious. You hear the rustling of fabric and the flipping of switches on his end. “Are you safe?”

“Not really,” you croak honestly, sparing another look behind you to find your stalker doubled over, spilling his guts out onto the side of the road. You fasten your pace.

You can almost hear the frown in James’ voice. “Be careful, sweetheart. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

You hang up and pocket your phone. Your nose is running, you can’t feel your fingers where they touch your cheek. You’re numbed.

You force yourself to keep walking, chanting James’ name like a desperate prayer in your mind. Your train of thought is interrupted by the creep once again. You squeeze your eyes shut as his voice hovers by, dangerously close, bracing yourself for what’s to come.

“You stupid girl, you better turn around or else I’ll —“

“You’ll what?”

Your eyes crack open immediately to find James jogging over to you, eyes locked on the figure behind you. It’s like your prayers have been answered. His gaze drifts to you, and in a second he’s got his arm wrapped around your back as he pulls you into his chest. 

“I’m asking you again, jerk. What do you think you’re gonna do to my girl?” You feel yourself melting into him with relief, letting your eyes flutter shut as you absorb the vibrations of his chest with each word he pushes out. His voice is hard, strained. A tone you’d never associate with the sweet boy holding you, but love does silly things to people sometimes. Maybe he loved you.

Your stalker mutters something unintelligible, along with a very loud, “Fuck you!” before staggering away.

James’ attention is on you instantly. He pulls away slightly to grip you by the shoulders, looking you over with a worried frown. “Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

You shake your head, teeth chattering too rapidly to give a straight answer. Your shivering doesn’t go unnoticed. He conjures up a jacket from seemingly nowhere, draping it over the back of your shoulders.

You can tell he’s trying to hold back for your sake, one hand rubbing circles into your shoulder while the other brushes strands of hair off your face. You’ve never been the type to want to be touched. But it’s exactly what you need right now, the gentle warmth of a hug that’s been wanting to be given, waiting to be received.

You lean forward and make your intent clear, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his chest. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it, immediately pulling you in and tightening his hold around you.

“You good, hon?” he says into your hair, face tilting downward to rest on the top of your head.

“Yeah,” you mumble, feeling the tension start to dissipate from your joints. You cling to him like a vice. “Please forget all the times where I complained about you being a hugger. Boy, did I need this.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle and starts to gently draw his hand up and down your spine. “You did? Well, I’m always glad to provide it.”

“Mhm,” you murmur, legs curling around his like you’re trying to hug him with every part of you. He stamps a kiss to the top of your head before slipping his hands under your thighs, hoisting you up till you’re wrapped around his waist. 

It earns a soft grunt from you before you’re relaxing into him, warmth seeping into your skin. He holds you with all the tenderness he would a baby.

“Your dress is lovely, by the way,” he mutters as he readjusts the jacket to cover your exposed ass. “You look absolutely lovely.”

“Thank you,” you mumble with a shy smile, tilting your face to rest it in the crook of his neck. 

He carries you back to his apartment, telling you all the things he’d wanted to say these past couple of days when you weren’t here for him to say it to. You decide that James is too lovely to let anxiety push away. You’ll probably phone him again sometime soon.

san’s christmas sleepover

[sun-kissy]

awhhh this was so adorable <333 james really knows how to make a woman fall more in love with him (and herself) 🫶

snowflakes, sweaters, and soft whispers

james potter x reader who's insecure about her post pregnancy fat

↬ word count : 803 words ˎˊ˗

↬ warnings : mentions of post-pregnancy body image struggles, mild angst, lots of fluff ♡

↬ author's note : hi starshines 🤎i wanted to start 2025 on a comforting note, so here it is. remember, you are so loved and enough just as you are. take care of yourselves, okay?

navigation┆james potter masterlist┆request here 𝜗𝜚

The fireplace crackled softly in the Potter living room, its warm light casting a golden glow across the cozy space. You sat on the couch, curled up in one corner, your knees pulled to your chest. The sound of Harry’s baby gurgles came faintly from upstairs, where he had finally drifted off to sleep after a long day of teething woes.

But despite the peace of the moment, your heart was anything but calm.

You glanced down at yourself, your oversized sweater bunching awkwardly around your middle. You tugged at the fabric, trying to make it lie flat, but it only seemed to emphasize what you had been avoiding all day. The baby weight you’d gained during pregnancy still clung to your frame, and no matter how many reassurances you received, it was hard not to feel... different.

Less you. Less attractive.

The sound of the front door opening and closing made you straighten slightly. James’s cheerful whistle carried through the hallway before he stepped into the room, shaking snow off his jacket. His unruly hair was dusted with flakes, and his cheeks were flushed from the cold. He grinned the moment he saw you.

“Love, you’ll never believe the snow outside! It’s like someone let Santa loose with a charm.”

You offered him a small smile but didn’t say much. James paused, his sharp hazel eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your hunched posture and the distant look in your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked gently, setting his things down and coming to sit beside you. His hand found yours immediately, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your skin.

“Nothing,” you said too quickly, looking away. But James Potter wasn’t one to be fooled so easily.

“Liar,” he said softly, his tone teasing but warm. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. James waited patiently, his gaze unwavering. Finally, the words spilled out before you could stop them.

“I just...” You exhaled shakily. “I don’t feel like myself anymore, James. I feel... big, and tired, and not at all like the person you fell in love with. It’s like my body doesn’t belong to me anymore. I mean, look at me.”

Your voice broke on the last word, and you tried to pull your hand away, but James held on, his grip firm but gentle. His expression softened, his eyes filling with something that made your chest ache—love, pure and unshakable.

“Look at you?” he repeated, his voice low. “Alright, let’s look at you.”

He shifted so he was kneeling in front of you, his hands coming to rest on your thighs. He gazed up at you with such intensity that it made your breath hitch.

“I see the woman who carried our son for nine months,” he began, his voice steady and full of conviction. “The woman who endured sleepless nights, backaches, and cravings that sent me halfway across the country for treacle tart at three in the morning.”

You couldn’t help but let out a watery laugh at that, and James smiled, his thumbs stroking your skin.

“I see the woman who gave birth to the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “The woman who loves him so fiercely, who stays up with him when he’s fussy, who sings to him even when she’s exhausted. And I see the woman I’ve loved every single day since I first laid eyes on her.”

Tears blurred your vision, and James reached up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing away the drops that spilled onto your cheeks.

“You are beautiful, angel,” he whispered. “Every curve, every mark, every single part of you. And if you can’t see it right now, that’s okay. I’ll remind you every day until you do.”

A sob escaped your lips, and James pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. His hand cradled the back of your head as you buried your face in his shoulder, his scent grounding you.

“You’re more than enough, love,” he murmured into your hair. “Always.”

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, his steady heartbeat a soothing rhythm against your ear. Slowly, the knot of insecurity in your chest began to loosen, replaced by the steady assurance of James’s love.

When you finally pulled back, James pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before tilting his head with a mischievous grin.

“Besides,” he said, his tone light and teasing, “you know I’m utterly weak for you in oversized sweaters. It’s a wonder I survive every winter.”

You laughed, swatting at his chest. “Prat.”

“Your prat,” he said smugly, leaning in to kiss you, and for the first time in days, you let yourself believe it.

You were enough. And you were loved.

[singmyaubade]

Growing Pains

poly!marauders x female!reader

summary: you are in desperate need of a job, and the marauders are in desperate need of a babysitter, what's the worst that could happen?

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ | age gap between marauders & reader (not heavily identified) | reader is 21 + | mature language.

author's note: hello everyone! so i have multiple poly!marauder fics going on at this very moment (i know) but this was something that came to me and i thought it would be so cute to write since i never really dip my toes into this kind of normal au's. but please enjoy!

! divers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics !

Being unemployed right out of university was not part of your plan.

You knew that it wasn’t unusual to be unemployed after attending university, but you also had high expectations for yourself.

Originally, you were going to intern at your father’s law firm for a while just to get on your feet, while living in your own studio apartment, which he would pay for—his reward for you ‘stepping up’ straight out of university.

After that, you planned to gain some experience and then be able to work at an actual law firm—not just intern—and pay off your studio apartment on your own.

But, as usual, you and your father had gotten into a blown-out, heated argument about your future. All you had said was that you ‘wanted to do some writing on the side’ during dinner, and everything blew up when he claimed that ‘writing is unreliable and wouldn’t get you anywhere in life,’ which only pissed you off.

It ended with you saying some things you didn’t regret, but maybe should have, and him cutting you off financially, retracting the offer at his law firm.

Instead of groveling, you let your stubbornness take over, storming out and having to find somewhere to live as soon as possible.

Thankfully, your cousin, who had graduated a few years before you, was openly looking for a roommate and wasn’t charging a high rate. You took the offer immediately, but finding a job was a real pain in the ass.

Every place you tried to intern at said you didn’t have enough experience or was in competition with your father’s law firm.

And every place you applied to—whether it was as a barista, waitress, assistant, etc.—rejected you.

For no reason, might you add.

You were growing hopeless and severely depressed. Mary was finding it quite hard to comfort you lately, especially since you were holed up in your room, refusing to leave.

She didn’t even think you went out to use the bathroom.

So eventually, when you came out of your room for your 8 PM coffee, she confronted you.

“Y/N,” She sighed, looking at you as you wrapped yourself in a blanket, dark circles under your eyes. “I love you a lot, but I need you to bloody get it together!”

You groaned. “What do I have to live for if no one will hire me and I’m just unsuccessful?” You sulked. “I mean, I’m going to be living with you until you and Lily have kids!” You screeched, horrified.

Mary looked spooked. “I pray not,” She replied, walking over to you and cupping your cheeks in her hands. “You just need to have more faith in yourself—and maybe a little boost,” She said, letting go and sitting on the counter. “Which is why I got you that little boost and got you a job!” She said excitedly, grinning as you looked at her in shock.

“Wait, what?” You responded. “Doing what? And how?” You asked nervously as her grin widened.

“Well, it’s a full-time babysitting gig,” She said happily, swinging her legs.

“So, a nanny?” You asked, sounding a bit deflated.

“Well, unfortunately, I don’t think you’ll be living with them, but yeah, kind of,” She said, as you hummed.

“And you know the parents?” You asked hesitantly.

“Oh, like the back of my hand,” She said calmly as if your question was ridiculous.

“I mean, should I text them or anything? Or at least let them get to know me before I start babysitting for them?” You asked nervously.

Mary waved you off. “They’re really chill, they’ll love you,” She said happily as she hopped off the counter.

“Wait, but—” You tried to speak again, but Mary wasn’t having it.

“I’ll send you their address. You have to be there at 10 AM!” she yelled before heading to her room.

That wasn’t very informative.

You were never this nervous. You really didn’t want to mess this up. Your palms were sweaty, and you were worried they'd think something was wrong with you, maybe unfit to handle kids if you were this nervous over meeting the parents. And Mary hadn’t even bothered to give you any info about the family—no names, no details about their children.

What made it worse was that you couldn’t decide what to wear. You wanted something casual but presentable, something that said 'I’m approachable, but not a slob.'

You were pretty sure the wife wouldn't appreciate anything too scandolous, and a single dad might misread it.

You ended up choosing a red and green Christmas sweater, mom jeans, and Mary Jane’s—comfortable enough, you thought, to handle kids.

Unfortunately, your timing didn’t match. Without a car (since your dad had cut you off), you had to bike there. And to make matters worse, you’d burned your toast and didn’t have time to make more. You were late, pedaling as fast as you could, praying your GPS was right.

You finally arrived at a beautiful suburban house—exactly what you imagined when you thought of a family of four. The house had a neat front yard, a doormat, and was surrounded by well-kept homes. Taking a deep breath, you rang the doorbell and quickly checked your reflection. Your hair was a mess, but you didn't have time to fix it before the door swung open.

A man with black hair, a black button-up shirt, and tattoos on his arms greeted you. He was strikingly handsome with a charming smile. And.. great, you were already crushing on the dad.

"Hey, you must be Y/N, the babysitter Mary recommended," He said with a grin, extending his hand. "We were expecting you—come on in."

The house felt warm and homey, with photos of kids everywhere and Christmas decorations all over. Toys were scattered on the living room floor but not in a messy way—just lived in.

"Sorry about the mess," The man said, laughing and running a hand through his hair. "You’ve arrived during morning madness."

"Oh, it’s fine," You replied, feeling flustered. "The decorations are lovely."

"They kind of went overboard this year," He chuckled.

Before you could say anything else, another man entered the room—a tall, broad figure with light brown hair, wearing a white button-up shirt and brown slacks. Scars marked his face, but they somehow added to how pretty he was.

“Sirius,” The man grumbled, “I told you to tidy up an hour ago,” He sent an annoyed look his way,

"Remus," The new man said, extending a hand. "Apologies for the chaos. It’s never this untidy."

"Yes, it is," Sirius teased. Remus shot him a look, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

"It’s nice to meet you both," You said with a smile. "Your home is beautiful. It reminds me of my family’s place."

Remus looked relieved. "We’re glad to have you. Can I get you anything? A glass of water?" He asked.

"I think I’m fine," You answered kindly as Remus led you to the couch.

Sirius sat next to you, creating a situation where you were sandwiched between the two men. You felt a little nervous, but they looked extremely comfortable.

"So, Mary didn’t tell us much about you," Remus started.

"She just gave us your last name and I didn't think it would be kind to search you up," Sirius added.

You laughed nervously. "Yeah, she can be a bit mysterious for no reason."

Sirius noticed you fidgeting and put a hand on your knee. "We’re just happy to get to know you ourselves," He said with a kind smile.

"Well, ask me anything," You said, trying to calm your nerves.

"Anything?" Sirius asked with a teasing smile. You flushed, and Remus shot him a warning look.

"How old are you?" Remus asked.

"21," You answered.

"Ah, the responsible age," Sirius joked, "How has it been?" He asked, trying to make you more comfortable.

"It’s been good," You replied. "More responsibilities now, its been a bit hectic."

"Out of school?" Remus asked.

"Yeah, just finished," You said with a smile.

"What did you study?" He continued.

"Criminal Justice with a minor in Creative Writing."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Remus here is a bit of a writer himself."

You perked up. "Really?"

Remus chuckled. "Just write novels here and there."

"Which ones?" You asked eagerly, looking at him in excitement.

"Probably haven’t heard of them," Remus said, shrugging. "The Idea of the Unknown was one that was popular for a bit," He added casually, and your eyes widened.

"Wait, you wrote The Idea of the Unknown?" You asked in disbelief.

He laughed. "Yeah, that’s me."

He seemed completely nonchalant as he mentioned one of the books that had shaped your entire view on life. You were amazed by how humble he could be about it.

And then it clicked,

He was one of your all time favorite authors.

You almost fainted. "You’re the Remus Lupin?" You asked, excited.

"Surprised you know my work," He said. "I didn’t think your age group read my books."

"I love your books!" You exclaimed. "The story between Ophelia and Duke had me crying for weeks after the ending."

Remus smiled warmly. "I spent fifteen years perfecting that ending. Glad it made an impact."

"But we're glad you love his work," Sirius teased, a sly grin painting his face.

You blushed, mortified. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to turn this into a meet and greet. I swear I’m not a stalker."

Sirius laughed. "Honestly, this just makes us more sure about you. At least we know you have taste." He nudged your shoulder jokingly.

You felt a bit guilty for not asking more about their kids. "So, what are their names?"

You pointed to a picture of two kids—a boy with dark hair and hazel eyes, and a shy-looking girl with long brown hair. They were both in front of the Christmas tree with matching Rudolph pajamas as the boy smiled confidently in front of the camera and the little girl hid behind him.

"Harry is almost four—he’s a bit of a handful, but he’s brave. Ruby’s shy, but she’s a clever little thing." Remus says, "And don't be fooled by either of them, they love to prank people and be up to no good,"

"They’re both adorable," You said. "I’m sure I’ll love them."

Remus checked his watch. "Actually, they should be back from their walk about now."

And just as he said that, the door opened, and in came a tall man with glasses and black hair that was shorter than Sirius's, carrying Ruby on his back and with Harry hanging from his leg.

Yet another handsome man.

"Okay, go to your daddies," The man said, setting Ruby down. She rushed over to Sirius, while Harry went to Remus, peppering him with questions.

The man turned to you. "And who’s this?" He asked with a grin.

You felt your heart race. "I’m Y/N, the new babysitter," You said, extending a hand.

"James," He said, then surprised you by pulling you into a hug. "Nice to meet you."

Sirius laughed. "He’s a hugger." He picked up Ruby as she pulled on his long locks of hair, earning a pained groan from him as he put her back down, "Not nice," He jokingly pouted as he rubbed his head.

You were too busy by James's embrace to be fully locked on to the kids as his scent infiltrated your nose. James smelled like maple syrup and firewood, and it almost made you dizzy.

When he pulled back, he grinned. "We’re glad to have you."

"Yeah, we need a new face around here," Sirius added as Ruby shyly hid behind his legs.

"Come on, Ruby, say hello," James coaxed, looking at the little girl and nodding his head to you as she went towards you in a shy manner, "She won't bite," James added, trying to help.

You kneeled down to her level. "Unless you want me to," You joked, making her giggle.

"My name’s Y/N. What’s yours?"

"Ruby," She said quietly.

"That’s a pretty name," You said. "You’re pretty too."

Ruby smiled shyly, and you stood up to find a little Harry already approaching you.

"Do you have cookies?" He asked, looking up at you with wide eyes.

"Not yet," You laughed.

"Bwoo," Harry pouted, moving over to James as he picked him up.

"Looks like you’re going to be a good fit,"

[elegantlyeva]

Hi! I saw that you were taking request for Harry Potter characters and I was wondering if you would do something with James potter and hufflepuff reader? Maybe he sneaks into her dorm after a tough day and she just comforts him? Thank you!!

Sour Mood, Sweet bed

a/n: thank you for the request honey I loved writing this! For the sake of the fic we’re gonna pretend the boys could get into the girls dormitories

Photos are from Pinterest!

Word count: 510

James was trudging through the castle halls after curfew with his head down and hands in his pockets, his usual golden retriever aura dampened after the day he had. He had woken up late and opted to skip breakfast so he would be on time to class, but he ended up arriving five minutes late and got a mouthful from the professor.

The rest of his classes went relatively smoothly, but almost all of them decided to assign essays due around the same time. Then, when he really just wanted to blow off some steam by going out to the field, his Quidditch practice had been pushed back to the next day.

And to add to all that, you had been talking to some sleazy boy from your house. James couldn't recall the name of the boy, but he could hear your laughter from the Gryffindor table, and that alone was enough to make him frown.

Worst of all, you didn’t seem to notice James’ sour mood all day. Sure, you waved to him in the hallway in passing, but it was hardly enough attention in his opinion.

Now, hours later, James had snuck out of his own dorm in favor of visiting yours. He saw some first-year Hufflepuffs in the common room who knew well enough not to snitch on him unless they wanted to end up with itching powder in their beds.

He knocked on your door softly, three taps of his knuckles in a pattern that only you would recognize. He hoped you’d answer the door and not one of your roommates.

And despite James’ bad luck earlier in the day, you are the one to open the door.

“Jamie?” you whisper, rubbing an eye as his figure becomes clearer.

The boy nods, and the pout he’d had for most of the day lessens at the nickname. He gently pushes your hips back so he can slip into your room. “Missed you,” he says, climbing into your bed. You’re still half asleep and a little confused by the (welcomed) intrusion. You turn around, shrugging to yourself and going back to bed.

You snuggle up next to him, letting your head rest on his chest. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze, but you two make it work. Your eyes quickly dart to your sleeping friends, and once confirming they are still asleep, you ask, 

“Are you okay?” Your tone is warm like a cozy blanket, and it causes James to sigh.

“Rough day,” he mumbles, shifting himself so he’s the one on top of you. He rests his head on your chest and keeps nudging you until you put a hand in his hair to massage his scalp. “It must be karma for tricking Sirius into dyeing his hair.”

You smile fondly before pressing a kiss to his left cheek and wrapping your arms tighter around him. “I’m sorry,” you whisper softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

James shakes his head ‘no’ and takes one of your hands to squeeze it gently.

“This is enough.”