#james potter thoughts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yrluvjane · 1 year ago

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𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒅

[old money] James x fem!reader

《 Summary - After a coincidental encounter, James takes interest in one of his employees. 》

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Who didn't know the Potters, especially when they owned everything. From banks, houses, and yachts to mansions, planes, and private islands. The family was known for its wealth and power. Almost ten generations have come since their fortune was assigned and now they’ve reached the point in being one of the richest and influential families in Europe.

And it wasn’t every day James Potter, the only living heir, walked into a diner where he would only be served greasy fries and pizza. His perfectly tailored designer clothes made him stick out like a sore thumb no matter where he sat.

Sat on a table at the far end of the room, with a relaxing book in his hands and a steaming cup of black coffee on the table; James Potter’s eyes wandered from word to word and line to line, finding peace in between the letters. His eyes would raise temporarily every time the hanging door bells jingled to check if his company had arrived.

Despite the loud noise of chatter, the diner was mostly empty, only six tables were taken. The sudden and loud laughs of a group of women disrupted his reading, and James involuntarily swung his head towards them, confusion and curiosity swirling in his eyes.

There, by the booths, sat a group of five girls all cheering loudly for their friend. James guessed that the woman they were cheering for was engaged, his eyes slightly squinted at the lady as she displayed her hand on the table for everyone to see.

It's not long before he realizes he’s not the only one looking at them; an elderly couple next to him, smiled fondly at the ladies and laughed together after a few short-whispered words.

“Mr. Potter,” He blinked, refocusing his attention on the voice. He raised his head and found himself facing a young man in a wrinkled suit and skewed slim tie who was staring at him with a disturbingly wide smile. “An honor to have you here, truly.”

“Thank you.” James responded blankly hoping to return to his book as quickly as possible without attracting unwanted attention from other diners, but it seemed as though the man did not comprehend James’ annoyance and instead decided to invite himself at James’ table.

“My name is also James,”

The Potter one sent the man a tight-lipped smile. “I own this place, it’s actually my dad’s but I managed to sway him into giving it to me. So, yeah.” At that, the man had finally stopped talking and stared at James as though he was expecting the man to hand him an award and at James awkwardly silent response, the man threw his head back and laughed loudly.

James narrowed his gaze at the man from behind his glasses and levelled him with a silent look of judgement. Though James did not speak any words his eyes expressed his feelings towards the man perfectly. And this time the man was able to clearly make out James' unpleasant impression of him. "Not a man of many words, got it.”

“I’ll leave you to it then!” The other James said hesitantly, “If you need anything, and I mean anything I am right here!” The manager stood up and winked at him as he left.

James sighed tiredly as the man’s voice faded and had finally vanished from his view. It was not that James was rude, it was the fact he did not appreciate people trying to sway him while he was having one of his very rare moments of peace.

His life has always been open to the public, from press conferences and social events to having people stalk him to his home. And though James would have seemed rude he didn’t think the twenty-something year old boy would have anything to say that was worth listening to.

James would rather have this limited time to hear his own thinking without having everyone train their eyes on him and bug him with their opinions of his every thought.

And not a few minutes later, the door swung open once more, ringing the bells and allowing a cold breeze to flow in. James’ eyes followed the jingles as he raised his cup of coffee to his lips and when his eyes trained on the silhouette he was met with a surprising feeling of familiarity.

His hold on his book loosened, and he gently put the cup back on the saucer. He leaned back on his chair and narrowed his eyes at the woman, trying to make out where he could’ve seen her. By the style and quality of her clothes, he doubted they had worked together. And even if she wore something less normal, there weren’t many acquaintances he knew that would step into anything like this diner.

He let his eyes follow the lady’s figure all the way to the celebrating group of women, all of whom started beckoning her over once they saw her. The closer she was to them the clearer she became. Under the small restaurant’s soft yellow glow, he could finally notice her blue jumper and black trousers. She waved to her friends and walked to them, a black coat hanging from her arm.

Once she took a seat, she scanned the place; freezing once she laid eyes on him. Her eyes widened, blinking owlishly, staring at him with parted lips. She recognized him, yet he still couldn't make sense of who she was. A reporter? An ex? Maybe an assistant? An employee? His mind raced with possibilities and theories trying to guess or at least sense where he’d met her.

As time passes at the speed of a turtle, he can feel the young woman’s gaze at him from afar. Every few minutes or so she turns to him as though she’s expecting something to happen; he doesn’t dare look back but he does catch her eye once. He turns to his side, slightly annoyed and faces her, staring unashamedly.

Her face of curiosity morphs into one of embarrassment, and James finds himself breaking their little contest when the door swings back open again and his friend walks in, waving at James from across the room. He shoots the girl one last look but this time, it’s her back that’s facing him.

A week later, James is sitting on a lounge chair by the pool, hoping to get some work done. The sun shone brightly above him, and despite there being cool winds breezing by, James’ clothes still stuck to his skin through a layer of sweat.

“Mr. Potter,” Anders, the Potter's head butler, calls. James faces him, scrunching his face against the sun's rays and smiles.

“Yes, Anders?”

“I have Miss Page on the phone.” He states with a sympathetic smile, handing him the black land phone. James sighed, getting up and taking the phone, he sighs one more time, this time at his assistant’s name on the small screen. “Margret?”

“James! I called six times!” She exclaims, and he can hear the distracting background noises of ringing phones, chattering and pointy heels undoubtedly belonging to the woman on the phone. ”My phone isn’t with me.” James says after shuffling some papers and looking for it. “Why? Why would you not have your phone around you at all times? I mean, what if an emergency happens? Do I have to wait for Anders to pick up the phone after four rings?”

“Marge? I’m kind of busy here, too.” He says into the phone, stretching his legs by pacing around the large pool. The sun shines on the water so brightly that James has to have on his sunglasses just to not be blinded by the reflecting sparkles of light.

“Well you should thank me. I had the meeting on Tuesday postponed to Thursday, just like you asked. Then, I have Patrick bothering me about Jackson Mills. Things are heavy James, especially now with election season so close.”

“I’ll call Jackson today—”

“Great!” She cuts him off before he can even finish his sentence.

James chuckles softly as she moves on to the next thing on her list. Margret was a wonder truly, but don't be fooled she was direct and pointed as her heels.

“You have dinner at 6:30 on Wednesday with Delilah’s parents,” and for the next few moments the line is silent, “I can always tell them you got into a car crash, if you’d like?” She suggests, her voice much clearer now as the background noises fade out. “No, no, my parents have been pestering me about this for weeks, I might as well get it over with. Marge, the report for the new expansion project is on my desk, have Carter send them to me, please.”

There's a sound of shuffling papers before Margaret's voice appears once more, "It will be with you in 30 minutes."

As she continues, James looks down at his shoes in weariness, sighing, before raising his head up once more; movements by the bushes catch his eyes. He walks over to the end at the end of the pool, where he suspects the gardeners are working, his brows furrowing as he gets closer.

And when he finally reaches the fence, his lips parted in amusement and chuckles at the scene in front of him.

“James?”

“Sorry, Marge, you were saying,” James says, barely listening. His arms are leaned over the black fence that separates the pool from the gardens. There, on the ground, sat the woman from the restaurant. Her uniform was all muddy and stained with dirt and grass, her hair was pushed up in a messy up-do that was somehow being held up with a fork.

James laughs.

“Marge, I’ll call you later.” He says, cutting her off as he ends the call and stares at the woman. At the sound of his amusement, the young lady faced him with a perplexed expression. “Mr. Potter,” She addresses, eyes wide and strands of hair falling over her face. She huffs and fails to push them back with her arm. ”I’m so sorry for bothering you.” She said, “I can leave if you’d like. I’m done anyway.”

“No, no, there’s no need to leave.” He states, his eyes focus on her uniform, a question forming in his head. “May just ask, why are you working in the gardens if you're supposed to be working in the kitchens?” He asked, and he watched her squint her eyes and shade her view with with her arm.

“Tony, the usual gardener, his daughter, got in an accident. And since I’m done with my work, l told him I could take over while he went to see her in the hospital. I do hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no. But why not just call another one of the gardeners?”

“I…didn’t think of that.” She said, biting her lips and narrowing her eyes. “Mmmh,” James hummed, “So what is it you're doing exactly?”

“Oh I’m just potting these!” She said, pointing towards a bush of pinkish flowers. “Looks great.” He commented blankly.

“Think so? I’ve never done this before.” She pointed, getting on the ground once more.

“In the end of the day it’s them being judged, not your…limited knowledge in gardening.” He said and studied the woman as she laughed. “Oh you should see the Gardenia’s they've put by the gates! They’re gorgeous!”

“Do you like Gardenia’s?” He asks and takes off his shades as the clouds begin to cage the sun. He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing back loose curls. “They are very pretty.” She notes, and James foresees the incoming 'but'.

“– But not enough to be your favorite?” He finishes and she looks at him and shakes her head smiling. “I can’t pick at all. They’re all so beautiful.”

“You seem to know a lot about flowers but so little of gardening?”

“When I was younger, my neighbor gave me a flower book. It had the names of the flowers and when they bloomed, and where they bloomed. That's all it said. ” She shares, "I didn't really have much to do as a child, so I took on reading. I enjoyed it for a while."

James squinted his eyes at her. Curiosity blooming in his chest. Taking a step back from the fence, he pointed towards his pool with his thumb. "What would you put here?" He asked.

"I'm sorry?" She asked, confused.

"The pool seems kind of bland, doesn't it? It's all plain and boring. We can do better."

"Oh," she asks and stands back up to look onto his side of the fence. James took the opportunity to clearly look at the woman as she dusted her knees and skirt of grass. She was pretty, that was quite clear. But it didn’t make that much of a difference to James; after all he’s had his share of beautiful women every now and then.

She walked forward and leaned on the fence, the smell of jasmine reaching his nose. It was a lot more welcoming and relaxing than the smell of chlorine the pool gave off.

His studied her face, her focused eyes, her bitten lips, and even the small hairs failing to be held up. "....You could go for the classics and pick some roses?"

He arched a brow at her, and she pursed her lips in response before facing the pool once more. "Angel's Trumpet?"

"Aren't they poisonous to the touch?" He asked, leaning back on the fence and giving her his most charming smile. "Right, I forgot about that." She mutters, biting the inside of her cheek, James smiles at her embarrassed expression.

She shifts from one foot to the other. James catches her fidgeting fingers and instantly feels bad for making her uncomfortable. He stands up straight as a frown takes on his face. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put this on you. It's not your job,"

"Oh no, it's fine, really. I... Oh! What about Daylilies?" She asked. James looked at her in thought, "What flower would be on all your top favorites lists?" She tilted her head in thought, her arms falling to lean on the fence as she fixed her gaze on the pool.

"Jasmine's." She stated as she looked at him. Suddenly aware of how their elbows are touching and how small the space between them is, James's smile turned to a light smirk.

It seemed that she noticed cause soon enough she coughed and took a step back, apologizing. "It's fine." James replied. His eyes wandered over her figure one last time before putting a hand out. "James."

She stared at his hand as though she believed it might bite her. She looked at him, then his hand, and took a step forward, pushing her hand out and introducing herself. “An honor.”

“The honor is all mine.” James says, holding her hand in care as he raised it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. He watched her face break into a smile before she bit the inside of her cheek and faced James with a raised brow. James only smiled in return.

He wasn’t sure why but this woman had definitely caught his attention. “I should probably get going.” She said and leaned down to grab the leftover equipment and gave a hesitant wave.

“Good Bye” James said, waving back and watched as she disappeared behind the greenery of the gardens.

The next day you woke up with a striking headache and the usual urge to fall right back into bed. It took at least 10 minutes to finally convince the rest of your body that it would be for the best to get up.

And you eventually did, after having a nice warm shower to soothe your back and warm you against the coldness of your bathroom, you dressed in your everyday clothes and quickly made your way to the local farmer’s market, in hopes of getting there early.

The most distinctive smell was that of Olive oil, it filled the air and the closer you got the easier it was to make out the strong scent of spices. It was 9:15, the farmers were set up and there was a respectful amount of families and people buying fresh groceries. It didn’t take long for you to grab your things, as you’ve been coming here for years you were practically a usual so most of your orders were pre-ordered and all you had to do is pick them up.

By 10 you were outside the large black gates to the estate, a golf car awaited your arrival as to drive to the main doors, you never really understood why there was around a mile from the gates to the Manor. “Thanks, Robert!” You said, grabbing the bags and running up the steps to the front doors of the service enterance. Anders swung the door open just as you reached the last step.

“Morning, Anders.” You greeted me with a smile.

“Good Morning, Miss —” He was cut off with four men entering the large foyer. You trailed your eyes over their uniform, a dirt-stained grey jumpsuit with a green flower logo on their chest. ‘Gardens?’ You mouthed at the older man, he nodded back. “Yes, Mr. Fretman, if you will follow me, please.”

You snickered at Anders' tone of exasperation as he guided the men out. You managed to side-stepped all the priceless furniture that was in your way to the kitchens and it was no easy task. It was more like an obstacle course, especially with your sense of sight being blocked off by overly filled brown paper bags.

Potter Estate was the definition of over the top.

The Manor consisted of 16 guestrooms, 24 bathrooms, 2 kitchens, an indoor pool, an indoor sauna and jacuzzi, a music room, 2 library’s, the theatre room, a sewing room, 4 offices, a wine cellar and an attic, with lord knows what in it.

The outside was even grander, there was the stables, the shooting range, the lake yards of grass and fancy gardens, the greenhouse (Which no one really sat in except Mrs. Potter whenever she visited), the outdoor pool, the garage and lastly the old stable house (Which, according to Anders, was turned into a "bat cave" by Mr. Potter Sr. for his son and his friends when they were younger.)

You made your way to the end of the west wing, pushing the large oak door open with your feet and sliding in. The evident silence came as a surprise, you would’ve expected to hear shouting, yelling, arguing, the sounds of slamming cupboards and chopping knives, something. But it was completely silent.

You placed the paper bags on the large kitchen island, which was three times the size of your bed and began sorting the fruits, vegetables and cheeses into the fridge and anything else in a cupboard. Once done, you threw the brown bags into a trash bin before washing your hands.

Your mind wandered away, wondering what might have happened to the rest of the crew. You huffed and wondered if you should look for them or not. Maybe they all got sick? But they were all fine yesterday. They were called somewhere else? Anders would have told you to join them. You took a look around and pushed your hair back with a headband and slipped on a hair net. You took one hesitant look around hoping someone would walk in but after a long and silent minute of you leaning on the marble table, gazing at the overly decorated door, you turned your gaze away from the entrance.

You shuffled from one cupboard, pulling all sorts of ingredients; flour, egg, sugar, vanilla , everything you needed to make a batch of cinnamon buns. And in a few moments you had already begun the first step, humming as you kneaded the dough, gently folding it between your hands and letting it rest for a while after you had declared it ready. You moved to preset the oven and a small red bulb lit up as you twisted the knob, signaling it was on.

You yawned and your vision blurred as your eyes teared up from sleepiness, you really needed to get a better sleep schedule. Brushing the tears away with your arms, you pushed yourself up, putting aside your weariness and walked back to your cooking station.

It was almost half an hour later, when the doors to the kitchen swung open and you smiled up at Anders as he walked over to you. You were practically done, he had walked in on you smearing the icing on the buns. “They’re fresh out of the oven! Try one!” You offered, cutting him a piece and plating it. “Here, you can top it with whatever you like.” You pointed towards the spread of different sauces and toppings on the table.

“Thank you very much, Miss L/n. And I do appreciate this but sadly I did not come here by my own means.” He says with a soft smile and you unconsciously wipe your hand on a cloth before facing the man with confusion. “Has something happened? Is that why everyone is absent? Does it have something to do with Tony’s daughter? Is she—”

“No, no, no. Mr. Willfard’s daughter is being treated for a broken arm and bruised sides, it’s been confirmed that she will make a full recovery.” He says and you smile gratefully, the worry inside of you lessening, still there but much more eased.

“And about the others, they were given a day off by Mr Potter.” He says and you freeze on the spot. “Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh.’ and since we are on the topic. Mr. Potter has sent me to inform you that he is expecting you by the pool.”

Your eyes widened and so did your mouth, silent movements of your lips were targeted at Anders out of shock. “Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter? As in James Potter?”

“Are you acquainted with any other ‘James Potter’s?”

“No.” You answered hastily as you your mind racked to why he would want to speak with you and at the top of your head, and like a blaring siren, yesterday’s events shone. “Was he happy when he asked you to call me? Did he ask it in a ‘I just want to talk’ way or more of a ‘I’m going to fire you’ tone.” You asked and you instantly felt smaller under the blank and unimpressed expression Anders gave you.

“If you will follow me – What are you doing?” Anders asks, his brows furrowing and lips frowning. “Plating these! They must be served warm or else they’re not as delicious.” You whisper, rushing around just as quick the thoughts in your head.

He sighs and leans his hands on the table, watching as you took your time to gently pick each roll and delicately place them on a large plate.

Once you're done you move the dirty trays to the sink and wonder if you could buy yourself some time as you scrubbed the pans and dishes.

“Leave those and follow me. I’ll assign someone to do them later.” Anders says and you can’t help but butt in, “But everyone took the day off! Except me.” You mutter the last part in a harsh whisper and sigh, accepting defeat. You grabbed one of the pastry-filled tray and angrily hand it to the butler before grabbing the others.

It almost feels like forever as you followed Anders, your fingers were nervously tapping the silver platter. You took deep breaths and purposely slowed your pace. Anders didn’t even bother to look at you as he led you. You looked around you trying to make out where he’s taking you too. It came as a surprise when you had passed James' office but now you were completely out of the Manor.

“Anders, where are we going?” You asked, Anders didn’t turn to you but did slow down. “To the pool grounds.”

He was going to fire you. You admitted mentally. Should've kept your mouth shut! It is a known, unspoken rule that you should never share your opinions with rich people.

You should treat them like kids, don’t talk to them, don’t get in their squabbles and don’t tell them the truth cause it will make them pissed and emotional and then you will be forced to deal with their tantrums.

However you completely ignored that rule yesterday, when you shared your opinions with Potter of all people. Before you even reach the pool, you hear loud noises and shouts coming from its direction. One very distinctive voice was that of James Potter.

“Miss L/n.” Anders addressed and motioned for you to step ahead of him. You sighed and masked your face before climbing the short stair in quick steps.

The first person you were met with was James. He stood towering over a large group of men that were scattered across the pool yard. James’ is dressed in similar attire to yesterday’s clothing and you almost smile back when he turns to you with a grin. “Mr. Potter.” You greet with a strained tone, placing the tray of buns on a nearby table with harsh clack.

“Oh, how lovely. Anders, please pass them to the workers, will you? And please call me James. How’ve you been?” He asks, still smiling and you're not so sure of what to make of the man.

Anders agrees in his usual formal tone and you watch him with the corner of your eye as he picks up your tray and walks down over to the working men.

“I’m fine?” You reply hesitantly and thankfully he doesn’t notice your questioning tone.

“Well I’m glad. I’m sorry to strip you of your day off, I assure you, you can have tomorrow for yourself.”

Your brows furrowed as you stared at the man, you're quite confused and to add to it you almost feel ridiculous while speaking to him with his sunglasses on. “Take off the shades.” You order in a blank tone and you see James’ posture change as he takes a step back and pulls the accessory off. Before he can get the chance to speak, you cut in, “Are you going to fire me?” You ask, the smile completely wiped off your face. You narrow your eyes at the man and watch as he speaks to you in genuine surprise. “Why would I fire you?”

“Then why am I here?” You asked, your confidence slipping. “I’m not here to fire you,” he laughs, “I just wanted to show you this,” He explains motioning towards the pool. “...I’ve seen the pool before.” You say, this time your confusion is clearly plastered on your face. “I mean this.” He says and he guides to the side of the pool, where three men are potting some Jasmine’s. “You picked Jasmine’s?”

“You said it was one of your favorites, right?” He asked, and you faced him with a look of surprise. “You picked Jasmine’s cause they were one of my favorites?” The older man blushed and he faced you with wide eyes, “No! Yes, but not directly, I just picked them because I guessed they’d have to have been really nice flowers if they were on your favorites list.”

“Okay.” You said, still confused but you sighed and brushed it all away. James watched your face soften as you took a step closer to them. “They are beautiful, aren’t they?” You ask, your eyes trained on the small, delicate, white petals of the flower. “Yeah…and they smell nice too.” You laugh, turning to face him as you lightly throw your head back. “Yeah, that too.” You agree watching a soft smile adorn his face.

“Here,” James says as he walks over behind a table, you watch lean down to grab something and your lips part in awe as he walks over to you with a pot of Jasmine’s. “Mr. Potter, I–” You’re in shock and happiness. They’re is a small sickening feeling in your stomach and you do your best to try and avoid it.

“A thank you,” He says. “And as I said earlier, it’s just James.”

《 NEXT PART 》

Tagging: @sssstarstruck @cloudroomblog @ietss

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reysdriver · 1 year ago

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James In December

headcanons of post-Hogwarts James in December and around the holidays

warnings: none :)

words: 0.3k

a/n: I literally JUST made one of these for sirius but as i was making that one, I kept thinking of james hcs so here we are

- Just to start with the obvious, he's super into Christmas and the whole month/season tbh

- A rich boy just like Sirius, so he gets into the gift giving aspect of the season

- But he does a lot of more personal gifts and acts of service, even tho he definitely has the money to buy everyone in his life a diamond necklace every day

- Is also the type to get crazy gifts like a whole dog or something

- Gets a new tree every year and absolutely loves the smell of the pine

- Loves how much baked goods he gets to eat around this season, but says that white people thing when he eats christmas cookies/treats like "oh those are dangerous, get those away from me haha"

- Makes a snowman posse in his yard of everyone in his life (him, his friends, his family, even throws in random people. think like a kid making Miis on their nintendo DS)

- He eats snow and icicles all the time, even though everyone tells him it's nasty

- Even tho he's a whole adult, he'll take christmas catalogues and circle everything he wants in them

- Will watch that yule log fireplace channel like it's a whole tv show and then snap out of his trance eventually and realize that he's been watching for an hour straight

- Cannot wrap gifts, he tries and fails every single year

- He'll either use magic to wrap gifts, or just stick things in bags/boxes and hand them out

- Loves christmas carols and all christmas music (even tho he's like the only one)

- Puts up mistletoe, but also one-ups that by carrying one on his person so he can whip it out whenever

- He consumes hot chocolate like it's nobody's business, especially when it's got all the toppings and extras

- James owns multiple ugly christmas sweaters

- And he wants to do matching pyjamas with everyone lol

- He hosts a christmas party for all his friends and family every year

- Is so excited to have a whole family that he can celebrate with

- Once December ends, he starts thinking about how it's gonna go next year

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter fanfiction #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter headcanon #james potter thoughts #christmas #december #marauders era #marauders fluff #marauders fanfiction #marauders headcanon

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inkluvs · 1 year ago

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have you forgotten anything?

okay this is actually the second / third blurb i've ever written? if i'm correct so my writing has defo changed since i posted this back in september <3 tw: pet names ; i have not read over this for my own sanity ; (0.7k)

james potter x reader

masterlist // taglist

The sun felt uncomfortable in James’ eyes as he woke up from his sleep. He didn’t try moving though, because you were clinging to him like a koala and that alone was enough reason to stay still.

He shifted his gaze to the clock on the bedside table which read, 6:15, 15 minutes left before his alarm went off. He reached over to switch it off before giving you a peck on your forehead and getting off the bed.

You, half asleep with your face pressed into the pillow, can feel the mattress shift while he gets up. Deciding to stay in bed a few more minutes, you turn around to look at James who’s heading towards the bathroom to get ready. As he feels your eyes on him, he turns around and says, “Hey love, sleep alright?”

Your voice is low with remnants as you reply, “Yeah, I did.” He nods and smiles before he turns back to walk to the bathroom. You can hear him turn on the shower faucet as you drift back to a peaceful sleep for a few more minutes.

Your alarm goes off, startling you as you check the time, 7:00. You get up and go to take a shower while James is already downstairs and making breakfast.

“Angel?” he called out to the empty living room hoping his voice would carry up the stairs.

It was a practiced routine, he would go off to work, and you would leave the house around 30 minutes later because your work was closer. You’d get home earlier too, usually taking care of chores to try and distract yourself from your husband’s absence.

“Yeah?” replied a voice, barely loud enough for James to hear. If James was guessing correctly based on the sounds of the blowdryer, you were still getting ready.

“I might be home a little late today, I’ll try to make it quick, is that alright?”

As much as he loved his job, he hated the fact that it took away his time with you. His boss had wanted him to train one of the new employees and he didn’t want to say no because, well, that’s who he is. And you loved him for it but all you could think about was that you’d have to spend another hour distracting yourself.

He always calls every few hours so you’d still get to talk to him, but it still wasn’t the same as actually being with him.

“Yeah, of course, love,” you said, slightly distracted by your thoughts.

James took note of that and replied, “Is something on your mind?”

Your blow dryer switched off and James could hear your footsteps on the wood floors as you walked towards the stairs. Your thoughts created a whirlwind in your head as you walked down the stairs to pause in front of James. He smiled as if to encourage you to say what you’re thinking.

“No, it’s nothing, it’s just…” you paused for a moment, trying to form an answer, “what am I supposed to do while you’re gone”

James looked confused but flattered as he said, “What d'you usually do while I’m at work.”

Heat rose to your face at this question and you mumbled, “Wait for you to get back mostly”

His eyes widened as he thought about you spending an hour waiting for him. He’d do anything to be there with you but for now, all he could do was assure you that he’d be in contact with you.

James’s cheeks went pink at your confession and he said, “I’ll call you extra today, okay?”

And you couldn’t suppress the grin that emerged on your face at his willingness to give you what you want even if you hadn’t officially asked him.

“Yeah, okay.”

As James turned to leave you noticed the keys on the counter. You picked them up and said, “Have you forgotten anything?”

He turned around, saying “Yeah, actually, I think I have.” Before quickly walking towards you and placing his lips against you in a soft kiss. Heat rises to your face once again as he pulls away slowly and gazes at you with a look in his eyes that can only be described as pure adoration for you.

You lift your hand to show him the keys and said, “I meant these, but thank you love.”

#ivy is writing !#james potter (ivy’s version)#marauderluvs #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter headcanon #james potter oneshot #james potter thoughts #james potter #james potter drabble #james potter fluff #marauders fanfiction #marauders #marauders x reader #userroma

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strgrlxox · 2 years ago

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james potter 100% cries when u cry

#he's so baby #james potter thoughts #james potter headcanon #james potter #james potter x reader

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spiderfunkz · 11 months ago

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rivals to lovers with james potter during christmas season, a season where everything and anything normal turns into a competition ( at least, for you and james ). a season where you can't just admire the snow peacefully without a snowball fight with james. where you 'accidentally' hit his glasses, leaving him tumbling directly in your direction, causing you to fall and for him to land on top of you. yet after all the rivalry throughout the years he still doesn't know how to control the blush appearing on his cheeks everytime.

a season where the gryffindor house host a small christmas party with competitions, something both you & james love. and after a few rounds it's just you and him left in a christmas lights competition, the small crowd of your friends and classmates cheer, excited to see who gets to win the basket of sweets.

after a bit of struggling and tugging the lights over and over, you managed to somehow get tangled in the lights.. with.. james potter. together. stuck. arm touching arm. and worst of all, your face is facing his, and you could see his cheeks grow pink.

another idea by @elderlune ily!!

#james potter #james potter blurb #james potter imagines #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter headcanon #james potter thoughts #marauders era #the marauders #the marauders imagine #the marauders imagines #prongs #marauders era fluff #james potter fanfiction #james potter fic #james potter drabble

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padsmoony04 · 1 year ago

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Oh, to be loved by him... What beautiful, fun, and unique feeling that would be...

#james potter #aaron taylor johnson #the marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #harry potter #james potter will forever be my wickedness #james potter fancast #james potter headcanon #james being james #james potter fanfiction #james potter x reader #james x regulus #james potter thoughts

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bruisedboys · 2 years ago

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underneath kitchen lights — james potter x reader

summary — james has a crush on you, lily’s shy and unbelievably sweet coworker. you nurse a crush of your own. (based on all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine!)

or .. you got a slurpee for free, I caught you looking at me, in the 7/11 under fluorescent lights. I spilled mac and cheese on my pants, and thought about kissing you underneath kitchen lights!

contains — shy!fem!reader, florist!reader, strangers-ish to friends to lovers, rugby player!james, modern au, flirting, mutual pining, fluff, james being a total sweetheart, sirius being a twat and a good friend, wolfstar because I couldn’t resist, kissing, lovesick!james, idiots in love tbh, and ummm lots of references to all my ghosts!!

notes — um I am very nervous to post this. but also please don’t let it flop.

fem!reader 8k words

James has an embarrassingly big crush on you. For someone he’s only met twice now, you’re very good at getting stuck in his head. It’s hardly his fault — you’re lovely. You always smell like flowers (which is kind of a given, he supposes. You work with Lily at Harriet’s, the florist’s down the road). You’re very pretty. You’re quiet and a bit shy but you’ve spoken enough that James at least knows you’re polite and friendly.

He’s talked to you a grand total of one time. You’d exchanged a few words and James had been very very quick to fall in love with everything about you. Your hands as you wrung them in front of you — a shy tell, he’d guessed. Your voice, pretty and soft, and how it’d sounded when you said his name. The way you dressed, your hair, the quirk in your mouth when he’d made a joke, the hitch in your breath when he’d shook your hand. He was a goner the second he’d met you.

“Prongs,” drawls Sirius, followed by a hard punch in the bicep. “You know you’re not as subtle as you think.”

James scowls in the general direction of Sirius’ voice. He’d been staring at you, he’s sorry to admit. You’re talking to Lily and you’re smiling about something she’s said and you just look so pretty.

He badly wants to talk to you properly, he has ever since the first time Lily bought you around to a party like this one, but he’s scared of embarrassing himself. He’s not exactly the best flirter when it comes to girls he actually likes. His tongue gets all tied and he can’t say two words without ultimately embarrassing himself. He’s not as much of a charmer as everyone thinks he is. He’s also scared you won’t like him, but he won’t get into that.

“Shut up,” he advises Sirius, rubbing his sore arm. “I don’t even know what you’re on about.”

Sirius, sprawled on the couch next to James, rolls his eyes and snorts. “Yeah, okay,” he says, all sarcasm. “S’not like you’re burning holes into Y/N’s face or anything.”

For a split second James panics. He whirls around to look at you so fast he almost snaps his neck in half. Have you heard Sirius? Do you think James is a total creep now? No — you’re still engrossed in your conversation with Lily. James breathes a sigh of relief but it’s cut short when he realises Sirius is laughing at him.

“Mate,�� he guffaws. “You’re hopeless.”

It’s James’ turn to roll his eyes. “Thanks a lot,” he says dryly.

Sirius grins with all his stupidly perfect teeth. “Y’welcome.”

James sighs and scrubs a heavy hand down his face. Maybe he is as hopeless as Sirius thinks. He’s certainly feeling quite hopeless right now. With you across the room and him sitting here unable to make himself get up and talk to you. As subtle as he can he twists to look over the back of the couch again to see what you’re doing. He’s just in time to see you disappearing into the kitchen by yourself, Lily now talking with the other girls by the ranch slider.

His heart rate spikes. This is his chance.

James is getting to his feet before he knows what he’s doing. He dodges another hearty punch from Sirius, pretends not to hear Lily when she asks him where he’s going, and follows you into the kitchen on clumsy feet like a puppy on a leash.

He stumbles into Lily’s kitchen and there you are. Standing with your head in the fridge, the bright white lights cast over your skin. And there’s a lot of skin to look at. Your shoulders, your upper back. There’s a beauty spot on your back, just next to your shoulder blade. Your dress floats just above the halfway point of your thighs. You’ve got really nice legs. James snaps his eyes back up to your head before he can feel too guilty and clears his throat.

You start and then whirl around, eyes wide as saucers, one hand curled around the fridge door.

“Oh,” you say, breathless. “James. You scared me.”

James is so busy melting over the way you say his name that he almost forgets to speak. “Sorry. Shit, I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to.”

You shake your head and your big dangly earrings jingle like bells. “No, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry.”

You smile all soft and pretty and James really thinks he might pass out. He steps forward and leans against the kitchen island as casually as he can, when really he’s using it for support lest he keel over.

You’re looking at him like you’re expecting him to say something. He clears his throat again.

“Um,” he starts lamely. He braves through. “I, um— you look really nice tonight. I wanted to tell you earlier but Lily’s been stuck to you like a leech since you got here.”

You blink at him and James worries he’s said the wrong thing. Maybe this was the worst idea he’s ever had. And he’s had a lot of bad ideas. But then you beam.

“Oh,” you say, shocked like you can’t quite believe it. Which should be impossible, really, James thinks. You’re beautiful. It’s hard not to believe it. “Thank you, James.”

James smiles back. Your shyness at being complimented only fuels him. “You’re welcome. Just don’t tell Lily I called her a leech.” At this, you giggle, and James stammers through his next words, dazed from your laugh. “So, uh— are you looking for a drink?”

He gestures to the fridge, which you seem to have forgotten about, the door hanging wide open under your grip.

“What? Oh,” you say sheepishly, and suddenly you’re embarrassed and staring at your shoes. “No, I’m…” You lift your head and blink at him under your lashes. “Promise you won’t laugh at me?”

James is perplexed, but he’s not gonna laugh at you if you don’t want him to. He licks his dry lips. “Yeah, I promise.”

You smile, then dip your head towards him like you’re sharing secrets. “I was cooling off,” you admit, sheepish. “It got too hot in the living room and Lily’s patio has mosquitos.” You hardly give him time to reply before you’re cringing, saying, “It’s weird, right?” Like you know he’s gonna think it’s strange.

He doesn’t think it’s strange. Well, maybe a little. But he’s been found in worse positions at parties. You look so embarrassed about it James is almost sorry he asked. Almost, because embarrassed you is adorable. You lean back and scrub your neck awkwardly, bracelets clanking on your wrist.

“No, I know,” he groans sympathetically, nodding vehemently. “Lily really needs a mosquito net or something, so we can open the damn door without getting eaten alive. Can I join you?”

You look baffled for a moment, and then shy all over again.

“You want to join me while I stick my head in the fridge?” You ask, an amusement to your tone that James adores.

James shrugs. “Why not?”

You smile outright then. “Okay,” you say, stepping aside so there’s more room in front of the fridge for him. “C’mon, then.”

James practically skips over to you. The moment he steps into your space he can smell your lovely scent. Flowery and sweet, something floral like hyacinth mixed with something sweet like honey. It’s intoxicating. He feels like he could drown in it. But there’s no time for drowning, not when your hand wraps around his elbow and pulls him into your side, your feet shuffling to accommodate him.

“Move closer,” you urge shyly. “You gotta get the full experience.”

James moves closer. So close his arm brushes yours and he could hold your hand if he wanted to. He very much wants to. He imagines your skin is as soft as it looks.

The coldness of the refrigerator washes over him and it’s actually really nice. Even though he can be a total party animal sometimes, he understands why you would be here instead of in there. It’s quiet in here. Nice and cool. No lingering scent of heavy wine. No Sirius to tease him and no Marlene to badger him with questions about his love life.

“This is nice,” he says quietly, over the gentle buzz of the fridge.

You giggle softly. James thinks he’d like to make you laugh a million times over. “Isn’t it?”

“Mm,” James hums. “I should do this at parties more often.”

You laugh again, delighted at his joking. “You should. Then I wouldn’t be so lonely when I escape to the kitchen.”

James laughs too. He can’t quite believe his luck right now, squished in front of Lily’s refrigerator with you, elbow to elbow, the rest of his friends and the party long forgotten.

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” he says, smiling big.

The next time James sees you, it doesn’t go quite as well as previously. To put it simply, it’s a disaster.

First of all, he’s late. Remus and Sirius are having a housewarming party at their new place and he’s had training all day so he’d forgotten all about it. It’s not until 9:30, an hour after the party was supposed to start, that he’s climbing in his car after training and his phone buzzes.

He picks it up, exhausted, expecting one of his teammates. Instead it’s a string of messages from Remus.

You’re late James!!!!

We started without u. Where r u????

Sirius is gonna wring ur neck

James scrolls through the messages with a mixture of confusion and dread. Confusion because at first he has absolutely no idea what Remus is talking about. Dread when he realises.

He speeds all the way home, showers at lightning speed, pulls on a rumpled shirt and a pair of jeans that he’s sure aren’t clean, and he’s out the door within ten minutes of getting home. Still, by the time he gets to Sirius and Remus’ place it’s almost 10. His hair looks a mess but it’ll have to do. He doesn’t even think about the fact that you could possibly be there. That is, until he’s finished apologising profusely to his friends and Sirius mentions you. James perks up from where he’d been slumping on the couch, feeling exhausted and sorry for himself.

“What?” He asks, too loud. He tries to tamp it down but honestly, it doesn’t really work. He’s still buzzing with nervous energy when he asks, “Is she here?”

Sirius grins, looking uncharacteristically cat-like. “Uh— yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. His stupid grin only grows and James thinks he’d quite like to punch his teeth out. “She came with Lily. Moons thought we should invite her. She’s a lovely girl, isn’t she?”

James knows he’s teasing but can’t quite bring himself to care — the prospect of seeing you has demolished all other feelings of pathetic-ness. He leaps off the couch and makes his way to the kitchen, guessing that’s where you’ll be, a barely touched drink in his hand and Sirius’ teasing following him all the way. He’s so busy fixing his shirt before he sees you that he doesn’t see you. He walks right into you on the threshold of the kitchen.

“James!” You gasp, stopping short.

James’ drink, to his horror, has spilt all down your front. His glass, previously full, is now half empty, the rest of it splattered all over your white top.

You barely have time to be surprised before he’s apologising.

“Shit,” he curses, mind blanking. His hands go to fix the damage before he realises he probably shouldn’t touch your chest, where his drink is now seeping into your top and showing no signs of stopping. He pulls his hands back lamely. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Y/N. Oh gosh. I’m so dumb, I—“

Your rush to forgive him is almost as quick as his apology. “No!” You shake your head and it’s awfully cute despite the situation. “No, it’s okay, James. I should’ve been watching where I was going.”

James grimaces. He tries not to look at the dark red stain that looks like blood on your white blouse. It is quite possibly the worst thing he could’ve spilt on you.

“It’s okay,” you say again, softer, reassuring, probably clocking the pathetic look on his face.

“Don’t, angel,” James says, shaking his head. “S’my fault.” He grabs your elbow gently and starts to pull you out to the living room, seeking Remus, who he knows will have a spare t-shirt that’s at least clean. “C’mon, I’ll find you something else to wear.”

“Wait, James. Wait.” You plant your feet in the doorway of the kitchen and James stops walking. He looks back at you, feeling guilty, hopeless, confused, and a bit endeared by you still, all at once.

“What?” He asks as gently as he can when he’s feeling like such a loser.

“I don’t wanna cause any trouble,” you say, biting down on your bottom lip so hard James is sure it hurts. You’re shy, he remembers. Quiet and polite. You probably don’t like people making a fuss over you, even though you should really. You’re pretty enough that people should be making a fuss over you all the time. “I think I’ll just go home, s’only a ten minute walk. I was going to leave soon, anyway.”

James frowns. “I can’t let you do that,” he says, shaking his head. He also can’t let you feel uncomfortable. He conjures a compromise. “Look, how about you wait here while I go ask Remus for a spare shirt? And then I’ll walk you home to make it up to you.”

He knows walking you home isn’t near enough to make up for ruining your top. But it’s the best he can do right now.

“But you just got here, didn’t you?” you say, frowning yourself.

James shrugs. That’s hardly a problem for him. “Don’t worry. I see those two asshats every day of my life, sweetheart.”

You still look unsure but James isn’t changing his mind. He’s going to walk you home if it’s the last thing he does. But first, something for you to change into. He leaves you in the kitchen and finds Remus, whom he asks for a shirt, to which Remus says, “What’s that for?” too loudly.

James explains what happened dejectedly. He’s not exactly surprised when Sirius laughs at him for it.

It’s a quiet walk to your place. You live close, which is both good and bad. Good because it means every time James is at Remus and Sirius’s, he’ll know you’re only ten minutes away. Bad … well, for the same reason.

James tries his best to fill the silence with easy conversation. It’s not hard, especially when you’re so sweet and kind and answer his questions so pleasantly. You’re easy to talk to. You don’t laugh at him when he slips on his words. You don’t make him wait for answers. You ask him questions, too, timid as you are about it.

James finds he enjoys your company even more than he was expecting. You’re like a breath of fresh air. You’ve got the radiance of an early spring morning and the softness to go with it.

It’s safe to say he’s disappointed when you come to a stop in front of your place.

“This is me,” you say, fishing your keys out of your purse. You’re in one of Remus’ band tees and James thinks you look much better than Remus does in it. As much as he loves Remus. He realises he’s staring too late, his eyes following you as you walk up your front steps.

You unlock your door and then look back at him, timid.

“Did you want to come in?” You ask, sweet in your shyness.

James would very much like to come in. He also thinks he might fall on his face if he spends much more time with you. He’s already dizzy on his feet and he’s been with you all of fifteen minutes.

“No, no, that’s okay,” he says as kindly as he can. “I should probably get back, or Sirius’ll have my head.” At least he knows where you live now. In a totally not creepy way.

He steps forward to take your wrist in his hand, his thumb pressing into your pulse point. He can feel your heartbeat. It’s not quite as fast as his feels but pretty close.

“I’m really really sorry about your top,” he tells you. He spreads his fingers over your forearm, your skin warm as late summer under his touch. “Can I do anything to make up for it? Buy you a new one?”

He wasn’t joking, but you giggle, your face lighting up, your eyes crinkling at the corners. James feels something akin to a mad swarm of butterflies in his ribcage.

“No, James,” you laugh, breathless and lilting. Your free hand lands on his forearm and his skin burns under your touch. “It’s okay, really.”

“Okay,” James breathes. His head spins as you squeeze his arm. Your skin is impossibly soft. You smell so nice. “But, seriously, let me know if there’s anything I can do. It was such a nice top, it looked lovely on you.”

You flush like James knew you would. He’s slowly discovering he likes making you flustered more than he’ll admit.

“Thanks, James,” you say, and James imagines if he touched your face you’d be burning. “But, really, it’s okay. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah. See you around, angel.”

It’s only after you close the door and James is at the bottom of the steps that he realises he should’ve asked for your number. He really is as hopeless as Sirius says.

James Potter is on your mind most of the time. You can’t help it. You’re not above admitting you have a crush on him. You are above admitting how big said crush is.

He’s really one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. Sure, you don’t meet a lot of people. But you’re sure if you did he’d still be one of the best. He’s kind, he’s funny, he’s unbelievably charming. He’s a bit awkward sometimes and you like that, it makes you feel better about your own social ineptitude.

It also helps that he’s very very handsome. You would look at him all day if you could. He’s all dark, velvety skin, inky curls that you’ve imagined weaving your fingers through more times than you can count. Deep brown eyes turned bright with his ever-present smile. Thick eyelashes, a lovely sloping nose, a quirk to his mouth that you think you could get drunk on. He dresses well, too, though you’re sure he’d look just as good in a hoodie and sweatpants. Or nothing at all. You’d squashed that thought before it could go any further.

You don’t even mind that he spilled wine all over your nicest top. Sure, the stain is never gonna come out. It’s sitting in your closet, ruined. Embarrassing as it is, you smile every time you see it. James had made up for it tenfold anyway, walking you home and telling you he was sorry about a hundred times. It would be hard to not forgive him.

“Y/N?”

There’s a call of your name from the office door. You’re in here on your lunch break, not really eating more than you are thinking about James. Margaret, the older lady who owns Harriet’s but only comes in Thursdays and Tuesdays, is poking her head through the door.

“Hi, dear,” she says. “Sorry to disturb you, but there’s a customer out here asking for you? I can tell him to come back later, if you’d like, but he seems quite insistent.”

He. Of course, your mind flies straight to James. Which is ridiculous, you know, but it was already parked and idle at James, anyway.

“He’s asking for me?” You ask, perplexed. You don’t usually get personally requested by customers. And if it is James, you’re sure he’d ask for Lily instead.

“Yes, dear,” Margaret smiles, and she looks amused.

You get up because it’s your job, not because you’re hoping like hell it’s James. You put down your barely-eaten sandwich, brush past Margaret with a small ‘thank you’ and emerge into the shop.

There, standing at the counter, is James Potter.

“Y/N!” He says as soon as you emerge. He’s bouncy. Frazzled. You would even say excited. “Hi, lovely. I’m really sorry to barge in on you like this, were you on your break?”

“Oh, um, no. It just ended,” you lie. You still had a good ten minutes left. Not that you’re gonna tell him that.

James’ smile makes the lie worth it. “Perfect. ‘Cos I need your help.”

You think you physically perk up. Like a cat when it smells food is near. You hope he doesn’t notice.

“Okay,” you smile. You’re happy to help if it’s James you’re helping. “With that?”

James explains that he needs a bouquet, your best work, better than a boring one you can get at the grocery store because he really really needs this person he’s giving it to to like it. Your smile fades at this. At the fact that he’s getting flowers for someone else. He won’t tell you who this someone else is. He also won’t tell you why he’s giving it to them. You’re sorry to assume it’s a girl he likes. Possibly Lily? Maybe that’s why he asked for you and not her. You wouldn’t be surprised, they’re close and she’s gorgeous.

Of course, you help him anyway. You recommend flowers that last the longest, colours that go together, which ones smell the best. He’s asks you what your favourites are and ends up going with those, saying he trusts your judgment.

You have to admit it’s all very endearing. And you have so much fun helping him that by the time he leaves, arms full of a huge bouquet made up of all your picks of flowers, you’re beaming. Despite the daunting fact that he’s walking out of your shop with a bouquet for someone else.

Margaret appears once he’s gone. She’s got this big smile on her face that you can’t quite make sense of.

“He’s a handsome one,” she muses. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Your cheeks go redder than the roses on the shelf behind you.

Much later, you’re in the comfort of your small home, a bowl of steaming hot mac and cheese in your lap while the TV drones on. It’s some sort of romantic comedy that you can’t say you’re very interested in. Despite the lead male being very attractive. You’re about to change programmes when there’s a knock on your door.

You start. Nobody ever comes over. You don’t have many friends, and the ones that you do have, you tend to go over to their places, rather than the other way around. You’re so busy worrying about who it is that you haven’t even stood up before there’s another knock.

You get up off the couch, mac and cheese forgotten on the coffee table. You give your outfit a once over. You’re in sleep shorts and a hoodie that’s too big for you. Not your best work, but it’ll have to do. You fix your hair with little to no care and then open the door.

It’s James. You gape. You definitely should’ve paid more attention to your hair.

“James,” you say.

He beams right back, seemingly unaware of your sleepy appearance. “Hi, sweetheart.”

You stare at him. He looks pretty as ever. It’s only just going on sunset, and the colourful sky casts streaks of orange and golden yellow over his pretty face. The last bits of sun tangle themselves into his curls and drown themselves in his eyes. He’s dressed casual, but he still manages to pull it off, like you’d thought. A hoodie and jeans, a pair of beat up converse. He’s hiding something behind his back and you think you hear cellophane crinkle when he moves.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he’s saying. He doesn’t have your number. But Lily does. Is it crazy to think he’s maybe asked her for it? “Is this a bad time?”

His kindness reminds you how to speak. “Uh— um, no. S’not a bad time, I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Are you— um, did you want to come in?”

You’re rambling, you know. He hasn’t even told you why he’s here and you’re asking him to come in.

James smiles kindly and it makes it all better. He’s good at that. At making you feel okay for being a bit of an awkward loser (your own words, not his, of course.)

“I’d love to come in,” he says, all smiles. “But first, I have something for you.” He pulls whatever he’s been hiding out from behind his back and offers it to you between your chest and his. “To say I’m sorry about your top.”

You blink. It’s a bouquet. It’s the bouquet. The one you’d helped him put together. The one that has all your favourite flowers and colours and smells because despite you thinking it was for someone else, you’d still wanted the best for James. You blink again.

“James,” you say, a little breathless, a lot speechless. “They’re for me?”

James laughs and you feel dizzy for a moment. He’s got a really nice laugh. “F’course there for you, sweetheart. Who else?”

He makes you take them from him, one of his hands guiding yours around the stalks. His skin is warm and sets yours on fire. You’re surprised the bouquet doesn’t go up in flames when you take it from him.

“I-I don’t know,” you stutter. “I thought …” you don’t finish your sentence. You’d thought they were for some other girl who’d caught his eye. You change tactics mid sentence, “They’re lovely, James.”

“I know they are, dove. You picked ‘em out.”

You giggle then. He’s the sweetest boy on the planet, you decide. He let you pick out your own flowers, and you didn’t even know it. You’ve never properly been given flowers before, despite working at a florist’s. It’s a new feeling. Like a star burning in your chest that doesn’t seem to want to go out. It hovers in you ribcage and stays there, buzzing madly.

“Thank you,” you say, lifting your eyes to his. You find he’s already gazing right back at you. There’s a rogue curl falling over his forehead that you’d love to push out of the way. “Really. I love them.”

James flashes you a boyish grin. “Good, ‘cos if you didn’t, I’d have to have a word with the girl who chose them.”

You’re still beaming when he comes inside. He follows you into the kitchen, where you find a vase for the flowers. You set about taking them out of their packaging, cutting the stalks and putting them gently in the glass vase filled with water.

James watches you and you can tell he’s trying to be nonchalant about it all, about being in your space, but his eyes scan your kitchen like it’s a map he’s trying to figure out. Your mismatched mugs on the counter. Your magnets and Polaroids and receipts on the fridge. Your overgrown plants on the windowsill.

You carry your flowers to your small living room and put them in the dead center of your coffee table. The bouquet is so big it would block most of your view of the TV if you sat on the couch. You hardly care. You’d rather look at them than the TV, anyway.

Setting the flowers down, you spot your half eaten mac and cheese and hope James doesn’t take you for a slob. You’re lucky he didn’t catch you on a Friday night. You’d be drowning in ice cream, probably.

“Are you hungry?” You ask him, half hoping he’ll say no, because who in their right mind asks their crush if they want macaroni and cheese? It’s so lame, but you can’t take it back now. “I have mac and cheese, but that’s about it, sorry.”

You cringe and wish you’d held your tongue, but James beams.

“I’d love some mac n’ cheese,” he says. “Unless it’s boxed, that shit tastes like cardboard.”

You get him some mac and cheese, glad you made it yourself, gladder you haven’t resorted to boxed food just yet. The two of you sit in the kitchen on your tall kitchen stools under your golden lights and eat. James is easier to be around than anyone you’ve ever met. He makes you feel special but not to the point where it’s too overwhelming. He’s kind and he’s golden, he acts like you’re the only person he ever wants to talk to.

Watching him eat in your home is more of a pleasure for you than you’d like to admit. He compliments your cooking. He says he likes the bowl he’s got, which is a white one with pink flowers all over it that you bought at a market ages ago. He gets a string of cheese dangling from his lip and makes a dorky face trying to get it into his mouth without using his fingers. You think you’d like to kiss him. His lips all puckered and eyes crossed as he attempts to scoop the cheese into his waiting mouth.

You’re so busy laughing at him that you don’t notice your own bowl balancing precariously on the edge of the counter. When you go back to take another spoonful, your hand knocks the bowl and it goes tumbling. Right into your lap.

“Shit,” you curse, gasping when a dollop of hot pasta lands half on your thigh and half on your shorts. The sauce spreads like wildfire over the fabric of your sleep shorts. Why do things keep spilling on your clothes when James is around? It’s becoming a theme. Your horror grows when the bowl clatters to the floor and while it doesn’t smash, it spills mac & cheese everywhere. “Oh, shit, that’s embarrassing. Um.”

You bend to clean up your mess but James beats you to it.

“Here, let me,” he says. He slides off his chair and is quick to start scooping up the ruined pasta.

“Sorry,” you stutter, standing helplessly as James cleans up your mess for you.

“Don’t be,” James shrugs and looks up at you, his cheeks dimpling as he smiles kindly. “Go change, I’ll sort this out.”

You feel an overwhelming rush of gratitude and affection for him that makes you want to kiss him stupid. You don’t. Instead you go down to your room and find something to change into. Seeing as he’s already seen you in your sleep shorts, you suppose your checkered flannel pyjama pants aren’t really much worse. Nothing can be more embarrassing than what’s just happened, you decide.

By the time you’ve changed (plus spent a lot of extra time staring at yourself in the mirror, practicing your smile), James has cleaned up the spill and is washing your bowls in the sink. You decide then and there that you like him a lot more than you’d initially thought.

You emerge into the kitchen on light footing. You feel like a magnet being drawn to him like this. It’s bizzare, how much you want to be around him, no matter how shy he makes you. It’s something you’ve never experienced before. A rip in the ocean calling your name. You know of the danger but you don’t really care. You ignore the signs because he’s James and you don’t think he has a mean bone in his body. The warning signs basically don’t exist.

“Thank you, James,” you say, standing on the threshold of the kitchen.

James flashes you a big smile, up to his arms in soap and suds, scrubbing away at a bowl. He looks like a house husband. It’s almost more than your heart can take. “That’s okay. Hey, nice pyjamas. Y’look good.”

You can tell by his tone he’s not teasing. He’s being genuine, which is somehow worse than if he’d been teasing. Your smile is so big it hurts.

James is gonna kiss you tonight. He’s sure of it.

So far, all of his advances have gone well. Perfect, even. Unless you count the drink-spilling incident, but if it hadn’t been for that he’d probably never have found the courage to get you alone again.

He’s taken you out to lunch once. He’s been into your work twice, not including the first time. He’s invited you to his rugby game tonight, to which you’d said yes more enthusiastically than he’d expected. It’s not exactly a date, per say. But he’d wanted to see you today and he had a game and his coach would blow his head off if he’d missed it for a girl. No matter how lovely said girl is.

He’s waxed poetic about you to Sirius and Remus more times than he can count. He’s yet to kiss you. Sirius thinks this is beyond absurd.

“So you haven’t even kissed her yet?” He asks, incredulous. He’s in his rugby kit, hair up in braids, chugging a Gatorade though the game hasn’t even started yet. “What’s the hold up, mate?”

James groans. Sirius is yet to understand that some people don’t like to jump into the deep end before they’re ready. “I don’t want to scare her off,” he explains, straightening up from where he’d been tying his laces.

“Oh yeah, you’re reaaally scary, Prongsie,” Sirius drawls, dripping in sarcasm. He rolls his eyes and then clasps James’ shoulder. He’s surprisingly and uncharacteristically genuine when he says, “Look, I think she likes you enough that kissing her won’t scare her off.”

James blinks and looks up at his friend. “You think she likes me?”

Sirius makes a face. “Are you kidding? What other girl would want to watch you eat shit in a field with a dozen other sweaty guys?”

And he’s back, James thinks. Trust Sirius to be a sweetheart one second and as asshole the next.

Soon enough James is out on the field and he wants to say his mind is on the game and not you but he’d be lying.

For the first five minutes he’s distracted trying to spot you in the stands. Then the next ten minutes are spent trying not to stare at you. You’re with Remus, whom James is hoping isn’t relaying anything he’s ever said to him about you.

You look as though, to James’ extreme delight, that you’ve dressed up for this. In a pretty dress and a jacket that borders on being so big on you it swallows you up. Sure, you’d still looked pretty drop-dead in your pyjamas the other night. But this is another level of gorgeous.

The first chance he gets he bounds over to you, ignoring his coaches instructions to ‘stay with the team’. Most of the team has scattered for half time, anyway. James makes a beeline for you.

“You came!” He shouts as soon as you’re in shouting distance.

You grin and wave at him, brilliant and dazzling and so damn pretty in the early evening sun. You’re not far up the stadium and James is grateful he doesn’t have to climb too many steps — though he’d definitely climb all the way to the top row to see you if he had to.

“Hi, James,” you say, looking happy as a clam to see him.

James beams back. He wonders vaguely if he looks as lovesick as he’s feeling. He can’t even bring himself to care if he does. He’s lucky Remus is nowhere to be seen — probably loving on Sirius somewhere.

“Hi, angel,” James says, smiling around his words, which come out all sticky-sounding and fond. “I’m so glad you came.”

You beam and rock on your heels, looking one part shy and two parts delighted, your hands clasped in front of you like you’re not sure what to do now.

“Can I give you a hug?” James asks. “I’m so happy to see you, I might explode if you say no.”

He’s joking, of course. Or maybe not so much. You nod, a tad vehement, James notices smugly.

“Yes, please,” you say, breathless.

James steps into your space, heartbeat a mile a minute. You smell like flowers again. Lavender, he thinks. He definitely doesn’t smell anywhere near as good. “You’re sure I’m not too sweaty and gross?”

You shrug. “I don’t care, James.”

“You should. You look lovely.”

You make a noise that sounds half pained and half pleased and it makes James’ heart skyrocket.

“Can you just hug me?” You ask, a hint of desperation in your tone that’s actually much more than a hint but James is trying to be a gentleman. “Please?”

James thinks if you keep this up (by this, he means, acting as though maybe you like him as much as he likes you), he’ll die on the spot. He hugs you. For his own and your sake. Wraps you up in a big strong hug that’s so passionate he accidentally lifts you off the ground slightly. You don’t seem to mind. Your arms weave around his neck like they were meant to and you hook your chin over his shoulder and go all melty.

James almost moans. He can’t believe how perfectly you fit in his arms. How your body melds into his so nicely. He’s big and firm and loud and you’re quiet and small in your own way. But it works, and James is so glad it does.

“How was work, lovely?” He says into your hair. Your hair, which smells like coconut and something sweeter.

“It was okay.” Your voice is quiet but you sound just as pleased as he does to be wrapped in each other’s arms. “Lily says good luck.”

“Hey!” This is Sirius, jogging towards the stands and the, for want of a better word, lovefest. “Why don’t I ever get hugs like that?”

James releases you but keeps a good hold on your waist, twisting to meet Sirius. “What? You want one too, Pads?”

He lets go of you and holds his arms out for a hug, half joking but also half serious.

“Not from you!” Sirius scoffs, backing away from James like his hug will give him an incurable disease. “From your pretty cheerleader over there.”

Sirius plants his hands in his hips and nods his head towards you where you’re standing behind James. James doesn’t need to look to know Sirius has probably made you embarrassed.

“She doesn’t want to hug you,” he says dryly, in an attempt to save you from his obnoxious friend. “Where’s your boyfriend? You can hug him instead.”

Sirius scowls but it doesn’t last long. You brush past James and it takes him a second to realise what’s happening.

“I’ll hug you, Sirius,” you’re saying sweetly. “C’mere.”

And to everyone’s surprise, you hug Sirius. James finds it both endearing and highly annoying. Annoying because Sirius is smirking at him over your shoulder, his hands on your lower back. Endearing because it’s apparent you’re trying to make friends with James’ friends and he couldn’t be happier. The hug doesn’t last quite as long as yours and his, though. And Sirius doesn’t quite lift you off the ground like James did.

James watches, reluctantly fond, as Sirius pulls away and smiles at you all kind and un-Sirius-like.

“Thank you, m’lovely,” he says, swooping down to kiss your cheek. James shouldn’t feel jealous, because Sirius kisses everyone on the cheek, but he does anyway.

His jealousy quickly fades when you practically skip back over to him, all smiles.

“Sorry about him,” James says quickly. He’s very used to apologising for his friends.

“No, that’s okay,” you shake your head and then take James’ forearm in your hand unthinkingly. Heat licks all up James’ arm.

“Y/N,” he says, sounding more confident than he feels. “Do you—?”

The shriek of his coach’s whistle cuts him off. Time to get back on the field, it says. James groans, long suffering, throwing his head back like he’s been resigned to the worst fate in the world. You giggle and it makes it all better.

James’ team loses the game. It’s embarrassing and then it’s not, because you bound up to him afterwards and give him a hug even better than the one at half time, gushing about how good he was, telling him it doesn’t matter that he lost because he played amazing, anyway.

He sure feels like a winner as he walks with you to the parking lot, his duffel bag swept to his wrong side so he can walk as close to you as possible.

“I didn’t know you were so good.” You’re still gushing and James thinks he’s never blushed more in his life. “I mean, not that I didn’t expect it. You just never told me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not Sirius,” James murmurs, feeling overly feverish.

“What? What’s that mean?”

James gestures vaguely with his hands. “I don’t go around bragging, is what it means. And I’m not that good. We’re just a local team, babe.”

It’s your turn to flush. Head to foot you go all shy. He thinks it’s the pet name that did it. And maybe the fact that he’s pointed out your gushing.

“Right,” you say to your shoes. “Well, I think you should play for the country, is all I’m saying.”

James laughs, delighted and a bit startled at your joking, but mostly just sick as a dog in love with you. “Really? Wow, you should tell my coach that, sweetheart. I think he’d totally agree.”

You pick up on his sarcasm and burst into giggles that make James’ chest want to explode. He realizes you’ve almost reached his car and puts his plan into action.

“Hey, did you drive here?” He asks.

You look up at him and James thinks he sees an inkling of hope in your pretty eyes. “No, I caught the bus. Why?”

“Did you want to go get Slurpees with me? I saw a 7/11 near your place the other night.” Then, because he really wants you to say yes, “I’m paying.”

Maybe it’s James’ wishful thinking but he’s pretty sure you light up like a Christmas tree. He really thinks if you keep doing things like this his head is gonna get too big for his body. You beam, looking like an angel on earth in the last fragments of sunlight, skin painted in an array of bleeding golds and pinks and oranges.

“Yeah, okay,” you nod. “Except you don’t have to pay for me, James, I have my card.”

James shakes his head, grinning as he fishes his keys from his bag. “Nah, don’t worry. Pretty girls get slurpees for free.”

He’s ninety-eight percent sure you freeze up like a block of ice as he unlocks his car. He has the generosity to not mention it.

The drive to the 7/11 closest to your place is quiet. But good quiet. James puts on the radio and is delighted when you start humming along like he’s not even there, your fingers tapping along the window where you’ve rolled it down, the wind brushing over your pretty face. He can’t quite get enough of you. Even just driving in silence with you feels like cloud nine. He’s enamored. Totally lovelorn. He’s surprised he can even drive straight.

When you get there he parks the car and then tells you to wait so he can open your door for you. He holds your hand to guide you into the 7/11. It feels like walking on air.

You both greet the guy at the cashier, you much more shyly, but James is learning you’re nothing if not polite. It’s practically empty inside, which James is glad for. How is he supposed to kiss you if there’s a bunch of strangers around? He leads you over to the slurpee machine with the excitement of a kid in a candy store.

“What flavour do you feel like?” He asks, grabbing a cup for you.

“Um,” you lick your lips and James wonders, not for the first time, how it would be to kiss them. “Grape, I think.”

“Grape?” He wrinkles his nose in pretense. “I’m more of a cherry guy, but I’ll let it slide ‘cos I like you.”

You giggle and flush, to James' extreme delight. He lets go of your hand to fill your cup for you, all the way to the top. He pops on a lid and a straw and passes it to you, cold condensation dripping over his fingers like raindrops.

“Thank you,” you say softly, taking the cup from him, your fingers soft as they brush his.

James gives you a big smile in place of a you’re welcome, then preoccupies himself with filling his own cup. He can feel your eyes on him all the while. Practically burning holes into the side of his face. His face, which feels like it’s on fire. He finishes filling his cup and shoves a lid on.

“Have I got something on my face?” He asks without looking at you, definitely teasing but he thinks you can take it.

You groan and punch him in the arm. Punch isn’t really the right word. It’s more of a brush of your knuckles. James hardly feels a thing. “James.”

James laughs, delighted at your reaction. “What?” He chuckles, picking a straw and turning to look at you. “You were—“

But you’re gone, turning into the candy section just in time for James to see the back of your jacket disappear. He follows you, grinning like mad.

“Y/N,” he says, sing-song.

“James,” you copy, with half the enthusiasm but twice the sweetness. He can almost hear you rolling your eyes.

James can’t help it, he snags your jacket in his fingers and pulls. You squeal as he twists you to face him, his hand coming to hook around your waist. Your slurpees get crushed in between your chests. James can feel the coldness of his soaking into his shirt but he hardly cares. You’re so close he could kiss you. He’d like to. It’s what he’s been trying to do all evening.

You’re gasping, breathless from the closeness and his sudden attack. “James,” you say again, panting. “What are you doing?”

James shrugs. “Nuthin’. Did you want some candy?”

You swallow and adjust your grip on your cup where it’s pressed to his chest. You’re staring at his lips. He’s staring at yours, too.

“No,” you say, your pretty eyes flickering from his eyes to his mouth and back again. “I don’t want candy.”

James licks his lips, partly because he thinks he’s about to kiss you, but mostly to tease you. “Then what do you want?”

Your eyes follow the slow movement of his tongue. “Um.”

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asks, softer now. Less taunting. More sincere.

You stare at him. “We’re in the middle of a 7/11, James,” you chastise. But you don’t turn him down.

“So? There’s no one in here but us.”

He inches closer. His slurpee is probably spilling over with how much he’s squashing it but he can’t bring himself to check. He’s too transfixed by you, the hopeful look on your pretty features, eyes blown wide, lips slightly parted.

“Okay,” you breathe, hardly a word at all.

“Okay, what?” James says back, just as quiet. “I can kiss you?”

“Yes,” you nod once. Your hand ghosts over James’ elbow and he hopes you’ll grab it when he does finally kiss you. “Please.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing than that. He kisses you, and the very first thing he thinks is that he’s bitten off more than he can chew. Thrown himself in the deep end, chum for the sharks. Because it’s glorious. It’s better than he ever imagined, better than anything he could’ve conjured up in his mind. You taste like grape slurpee, sugary and sweet. You’re tentative like you always are, but it doesn’t mean you hold back. You let him kiss you as hard as he pleases, tilting your head up to meet him, gripping his elbow with your free hand like you never want to let go.

He kisses you firm but careful, passionate so you know how much he likes you but soft enough so you know he’s okay to go slow if you need to.

Soon enough the moment is ruined — James shouldn’t have expected anything less. The guy at the cashier is wondering aloud if James is planning on ever paying for the Slurpees now dripping condensation into both of your clothes and hands.

James sighs and goes to pull out his wallet, but not before pressing another kiss to your smiling mouth.

feedback and reblogs are very very appreciated! please please lmk if u liked it (but not if u didn’t ahahah) xx

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daenysx · 4 months ago

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for your sleepover, i was thinking about James x r on her period. Not only is he muscly and perfect for cuddling, but i feel like he’d always be warm. So im thinking him putting his giant hands on r’s stomach to help the cramps 🥹

just thinking of james who knows the possible dates of your period by heart (and he can understand it from a simple look you give). he also pretty much knows everything that makes you feel better. but i think he goes a bit mad, trying to make you endless cups of hot drinks, bringing you a heating pad, constantly asking if you want anything, just going insane over your pain.

when you tell him he doesn't need to do anything extra, that you only need him close, his heart takes a leap and he gets you in his arms. one of his hands rubbing the numb muscle of your thigh, the other one secure on your belly. he runs hot and you practically use him as your personal heating pad, he loves it. he loves how you get closer, how he's the one who's able to make you just a bit better. he kisses your pout off whenever a cramp hits badly, keeps massaging your back and your belly to ease off the pain.

you give him little kisses on his neck when you can. he holds you in his arms. there you go, pretty girl. does it hurt when i put my hands here? tell me if it does, please, don't let me hurt you.

sad girl sleepover ♡

#sad girl sleepover #james potter #james potter thoughts #marauders #james potter x reader #james potter x you #daenysdreams

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hyperfocuscentre · 6 months ago

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James would 100% procrastinate normal, everyday things. Need to pee? He’ll wait till the last minute because he’s too busy playing quidditch. Stomach rumbling? He forgot to eat because he was too busy reading a quidditch magazine, and now he’s too deep into it to stop.

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cosmal · 2 years ago

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james constantly wearing those like super soft t shirts (like cotton but soft and smells nice) and soft hoodies that you can hide under and being like such a boyfriend in boyfriend clothes with boyfriend dimples idk if this is unhinged but omg! thinking thoughts

god im just imagining his chest. and ugh his biceps!!!! pls jesus fucking christ. he is the most boyfriend material to ever exist.

he constantly smells good. like a cologne he knows is your favourite. and strawberry shampoo and conditioner. if one of his hoodies isn’t on him, it’s on you. a purple one that eventually then just starts to smell like you instead. james acts like he doesn’t care. though he does. cares a lot because he thinks it’s amazing!!! a little bit of you he gets to carry if he ever gets a chance to steal it off you.

when you’re around him, especially in winter, you’ve got your hands up his hoodie. pressing your fingers into his soft, squishy belly. tugging him closer until your arms are around his torso. if he’s talking to someone he pretends it’s no big deal. just let’s you wrap yourself around him and he just talks over your head. with his chin or cheek on your head and a hand in your hair.

i’m a firm believer in beefy james. so he’s 100% just so fucking squishy and soft and ugh. he’d be the best a hugs and an even better big spoon. like fuck.

okay im sorry.

#james potter #james potter thought #james potter thoughts #james potter x reader #aerial answers #mwah

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yrluvjane · 1 year ago

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𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝐈𝐈𝐈

[old money] James x fem!reader

《 Summary - It's the day of your date with James and it turns out better than you had hoped, Sirius and Margret confront James on who the secret mystery woman is and an unexpected surprise leaves James in worry of what it may cause. 》

Series List

The days dragged on, each hour an eternity, as you struggled to focus on anything but him. You knew it wasn't healthy, but with this fixation, you couldn't help yourself - you were caught in a whirlpool, and he was the eye of the storm.

And yet, for reasons you could not quite understand, you found yourself unable to reveal your true feelings to anyone, not even yourself. It was a conundrum of the heart, torn between desire and honour. You knew that letting this - whatever this was - would only lead to heartbreak and pain, but the game was too great to resist. James Potter may have been nice to you but that doesn’t have to mean he finds you that interesting; so you hid your emotions away, praying that hopefully this was nothing more than a crush and someday it would simply fade.

You step out of the bathroom, feeling refreshed. Your hair is damp, and you take a moment to wring it out before setting about styling it. You reach for your curling iron, curling and curling your strands until they are loose and wavy. Then, you apply your makeup, starting with your skin - foundation, concealer, blush and then a sweep of highlighter to give your face a glowy finish. You finish off your look with a splash of lipgloss and then your signature lipstick. You take a moment to look at yourself in the mirror, and you definitely look different, you can’t remember the last time you’ve looked so…put together. It almost feels like a dream or a distant thought when you push back some of the curls that sat on your shoulder.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. You glance at your watch - it's a little after 6:00 PM, and the sun is sinking low in the sky. You walk over to the door, your heart racing with anticipation and nerves. You take a deep breath, you look through the peephole and James is standing there, looking as handsome as ever. As the door creaks open, you catch sight of James, his striking face and well-tailored suit looking more attractive than ever. The beautiful arrangement of flowers in his hand makes you smile.

“Hey,” You say, your hands are fidgeting and you're curling your toes from the storm of awkwardness you’re feeling. “Hello.” He says smiling as he takes in your form, "You look absolutely stunning," and the warmth in his tone makes your cheeks flush with heat.

You thank him and compliment his attire, feeling a flutter in your chest and when he offers you his hand; you take it eagerly, feeling a surge of excitement and anticipation as you step out of your apartment and join him. You feel your heart racing as you step out of the building, the cool air brushing against your face.

He looks at you with a smile that reaches his eyes, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You settle into the passenger seat, feeling the soft leather underneath you. As he starts the engine, you take a deep breath and try to steady yourself. Tonight was going to be either special or a disaster - you can feel it in your bones.

As you sit in the car next to James, you feel a sense of both excitement and trepidation wash over you. You've spent the past week getting ready for this moment - practising your makeup, trying on different outfits, and preparing yourself mentally. Now that the moment has arrived, you find yourself wishing you could freeze time, just for a moment, so you could savour every detail of this experience. You take in the familiar scent of the leather seats and the soft glow of the streetlights outside blending in with the setting sky.

Once you've arrived, you stare dumbly at the restaurant that's even more extravagant and luxurious compared to anything you've ever experienced before. The entrance alone is enough to take your breath away - the gleaming gold doors, the elaborately carved marble pillars, the gleaming black-and-white marble floor. You feel a sense of anxiety and anticipation as you approach the entrance. This place seems so different from anything you've ever known, and you can't help but feel a little bit out of your depth, when James opens the doors for you and links your arms together as he walks you in.

The smile James sends as he pulls back your chair for you is absolutely irresistible, and you feel a warm rush wash over you. His expression radiates a genuine kindness that makes you feel safe and look up at him, trying to think of something to say that doesn't sound like babbling. You sit down in the chair, feeling James' warm and muscular shoulder brush up against yours. His smile is incredibly charismatic, a mixture of confidence, playfulness and a touch of arrogance. You can't help but feel your heart fluttering slightly as you meet his gaze, the butterflies in your stomach intensifying as he takes a seat in front of you.

James begins the conversation by asking about your day, but you can't help but notice that he's looking at you in a way that makes you feel both nervous and flattered all at once. He leans in a little closer, and you can feel his eyes tracing over every inch of your face as though it was a portrait he wished to memorise.

Or looking for flaws. A sickening voice whispers in your mind.

"So, tell me about yourself, Y/n." Your heart rate quickens, and you begin to feel a little lightheaded. Taking a look around, you can feel the nerves starting to set in. You’ve never been to a place like this before, and the prices on the menu are making you feel very out of your league. You can't help but feel insecure and unsure of yourself as they placed the menu in front of you.

The restaurant was grand, with tall ceilings and elegantly dressed waiters flitting about. The diners were equally well-dressed, many of them sporting expensive jewellery and clothes that could probably buy your entire street. You feel very out of your element as if you didn’t belong here.

You don’t. The voice says once more.And this time you truly feel sick.

But James, gentle and understanding, read your mind. He seems to sense your discomfort, and he flashes you a warm smile. "Don't worry about the prices," he says, reaching across the table to take your hand. "I just want to treat you to a nice dinner." His words are reassuring, and your nerves start to calm down but you also can’t help but wonder if he’s doing this out of pity.

"I just want to treat you to a nice dinner." He said. Does this have something to do with you getting sick? Did he feel as though he was obliged to treat you out as an apology? Maybe guilt? Politeness? Were reading this completely wrong?

The thoughts hit you like a speeding train and it’s almost as if you can feel the acid in your stomach. Your mind is questioning every little thing, every little move and micro-expression, raising your stress and anxiety with each passing second.

You take a deep breath and start to tell him a little bit about yourself, about your childhood, your interests, your likes and dislikes. You find yourself drifting off on a tangent about your favourite book, and he looks at you with interest, encouraging you to keep going.

James leans back in his chair a little, his eyes meeting yours. There's a sparkle in his eye while you find yourself leaning forward slightly. It's almost like the two of you are in your own little world right now, and nothing else matters.

When he places your orders his voice is confident and sure. The server nods and hurries away, and the two of you sit in comfortable silence for a moment before James speaks up again. You can't help but be impressed by James' confidence and assurance, both in the way he speaks and the way he carries himself. He seems to know exactly what he wants and is not afraid to ask for it; it's a quality that you're sure served him well in life and it only adds to the attraction you feel towards him.

You're so caught up in the moment that you don't realise how much time has passed, and before you know it, the sun has set over the horizon. It's a moment of pure magic, and you feel like this is something truly special.

You look up from the table and see the waiter approaching with two plates of food - one for you and one for James. You watch as he sets the plates down, the food is absolutely delicious, and you let out a sigh of satisfaction. "This is incredible," you say, taking another bite.

James chuckles, smiling at you as though you were the moon itself. “I’m glad you like it.” He says softly and you can’t help but feel something at his tone. It makes you falter for a moment, utensils frozen mid-bite. “T-thank you?” You try and the laugh he lets out is enough to break whatever just happened a few seconds ago.

James listens attentively, nodding and asking questions as you speak. It was like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, and you felt grateful for his company, for the comfort he provided, and for the opportunity to forget about the world for a moment.

You stare in disbelief as the food keeps coming, each plate seemingly topping the previous one. The service is impeccable and the food is absolutely delicious. As you continue to chow down, you can't help but be a bit self-conscious - you don't want James to think you're a gorger.

"Do you remember your childhood, James?" You asked, putting down the fork and knife. "What was it like growing up for you?"

"It was... interesting," James replied with a smile on his face. "I spent a lot of time outdoors, playing with friends and exploring the woods around our house. My father taught me how to hunt and fish, and my mother taught me how to paint and play piano."

"That sounds lovely," You said and he nodded, his eyes lost to distant memories. "I also loved to go exploring, even though my parents warned me not to. It was dangerous, but the excitement was just too much to resist."

"We grew up quite differently," You state, the smile on your face as you utter these words is a complete opposite to the spiders crawling in your chest.

"But that's a good thing.” James said, lifting his glass of water for a sip. “We can learn from each other's experiences and grow as people. That's one of the things I love about life – there's always something new to explore and discover…and wonderful new people to meet." You can feel the heaviness of his last words, his eyes gaze at you with a smile adorning his face. You tilt your head to the side and run your hands down your face as you laugh.

The conversation continues, with the two of you sharing stories and finding common ground as you get to know each other. You both feel a little more connected and a little closer. "I’ve been on hikes before but it didn't end very well. We – my friends and I – we always do everything together and we decided to go on a hike." James states, a smile on his face.

“It was fun, I presume?” You ask and he laughs, nodding his head, “The word I would use if unforgettable. We forgot one of us and didn’t even remember him until 12 hours later!”

You laugh, imagining the scene. It's easy to imagine James, the life of the party, surrounded by friends who were probably just as lively as he was. "I bet it was quite the adventure," you say, still smiling. "What happened then?"

James doesn't miss a beat as he continues the story. "We had to retrace our steps, which took hours, but we finally found him. He was still asleep, and when we woke him up he looked so lost as to why we were all watching him so we just didn’t tell him what happened! It was pretty funny, actually.”

He laughs again, and you find yourself starting to feel more at ease in his presence. There's something about him that's so easy to talk to, so natural to be around, whatever worries you had before have all turned to forgotten ash by now.

It's so silly and relatable, and it's nice to know that even the most charming and regal people can be just as clumsy and forgetful as the rest of us. It makes James feel more human, more like someone you could see yourself being with. You don't dare to hope for too far, but you can't help but dream.

Sirius stepped out of the elevator, his shoes tapping out a rhythmic beat on the polished marble floors of the office. With an excited stride, he made his way toward Margaret’s office, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the otherwise quiet halls. As he reached the door, he took a deep breath, mentally bracing himself for the conversation to come. He didn’t bother with pleasantries, simply swinging the door open and marching in with a dramatic flair.

“Margaret, you won’t believe it!” Sirius burst into the room, eyes wide and voice full of disbelief. “James is dating someone?!”

Margaret looked up from her desk, her face a portrait of shock and surprise. “What? Since when?” she asked, her voice rising in pitch as she tried to process the bombshell.

Sirius flopped into one of the leather chairs opposite her, throwing himself dramatically as if wounded. “How could you not know? You spend like ten hours a day with Prongs, and you don’t know he’s got a secret girlfriend?”

Margaret’s face turned a shade of pink as she stared at Sirius, utterly perplexed. “Are you sure you’re not messing with me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

Sirius leaned in closer, his expression serious despite the playful glint in his eye. “I’m dead serious. James. Is. Dating. Someone.”

Margaret’s eyes widened even further as she absorbed the news. “Are you absolutely sure?” she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Sirius nodded enthusiastically, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “I heard it straight from the source—Mum’s the word. He’s been keeping it under wraps, but I got the scoop from my mum.”

Margaret’s initial shock began to fade, replaced by a look of admiration. “Wow. That’s... amazing. Good for him!” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. “Do you know who it is?”

Sirius shook his head, his grin widening. “No clue. But don’t worry, we’ll find out.”

Margaret’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “I’m dying to know who it is now. Any guesses?”

Sirius chuckled, leaning back with a theatrical sigh. “With James, it could be anyone. An artist, a secret agent, or even... you-know-who.”

Margaret burst into laughter, the tension breaking as she relaxed. “Oh, please. If it were you-know-who, we’d have a much bigger problem on our hands.”

Sirius joined in her laughter, shaking his head. “Yeah, you’re right. But seriously, James is so terrible at keeping secrets. He’ll spill the beans sooner or later. We just have to wait for him to crack.”

Margaret grinned, shaking her head in amusement. “Yeah, James is definitely not the best at keeping things under wraps. It’ll be fun to watch him squirm.”

Your heart races as you step outside into the cool night air. The moon casts a gentle glow over everything, and as you glance over at James, you notice the way his eyes sparkle in the moonlight. You want to say something, but the words get tangled up in your throat. The silence stretches between you, feeling like an eternity, until James finally breaks it.

“I had a really good time tonight,” he says, his voice soft and warm. “I hope you did too.”

You nod, feeling a smile spread across your face despite your lingering nervousness. “I had a great time,” you reply, your breath coming in slightly uneven puffs. The evening has left you exhilarated and a bit flustered. You want to say more, but the words escape you, leaving you standing there, hoping he feels the same way.

As you walk towards James’s car, you take a deep breath, savoring the crisp night air. James opens the door for you, and you slip into the seat, feeling the warm leather envelop you. The engine hums to life, and you close your eyes, letting the vibrations soothe your tired muscles. “It’s a shame the night has to end,” James muses. “I’d love to relive it all over again.”

A blush warms your cheeks as his words sink in. “Same here,” you whisper, feeling your heart flutter. The stars above seem to shine brighter, and you wish you could freeze this moment forever.

You hesitate, your mind racing between the excitement of extending your time together and the fear of potential rejection. But as you look at James, his eyes full of warmth and his smile reassuring, you gather your courage. “Who says it has to end?” you suggest, trying to keep your voice steady. “There’s a public park a few streets away. How about a late-night walk?”

Your heart races as you wait for his response, your hand resting nervously on his arm. It feels like an eternity before James finally speaks, his voice calm and inviting. “Okay,” he says, and you can almost hear the smile in his voice. “Let’s go.”

Relief washes over you as you settle back into the seat. The car makes a few turns, and soon you’re pulling up to a small, secluded park. It’s dark and still, and a touch of anxiety flutters in your chest as James parks the car and switches off the engine. “You’d better not stand me up,” he jokes as you both get out of the car, and you laugh in response.

The park is enchanting—the stars are scattered like diamonds, the air is warm and fragrant, and the stillness of the night sets a perfect mood.

You take James’s hand, feeling his warm grip, and he leads you down a path into the night. His hold on your arm is firm but gentle, and the warmth of his body next to yours sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. Despite the risk of what you’re doing, the excitement of being with James overshadows your nerves.

As you walk, James’s hand rests around your waist, pulling you closer. You let out a happy sigh, tilting your head back to gaze at the stars. The night seems endless, filled with potential, and a deep sense of joy envelops you as you stand there with James, surrounded by the night sky.

“Tell me something most people don’t know about you,” you say, wanting to draw closer and understand him better. “Something you’ve never told anyone.”

James ponders for a moment before speaking. “When I was a kid, I used to spend hours with maps. I loved learning about places, tracing rivers and mountain ranges with my fingers. I always wanted to see those places for myself, but life had other plans.”

You look at him with curiosity. “Why didn’t you get to see them?”

James gives a sad smile. “Work, mostly. There’s always a conference, a gala, reports to review. It’s a never-ending cycle.”

You nod sympathetically, trying to imagine the constant demand on his time. “That sounds tough,” you say, reaching out to squeeze his hand. James returns the squeeze, his fingers warming yours. “It can be,” he admits, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “But I try not to complain. I’m grateful for the opportunities.”

A silence falls between you as you both contemplate his words. “But sometimes,” James continues softly, “I wish I could just stop. Take a break from all the noise and demands. Go somewhere where nobody knows me and just... be.”

As you listen, a pang of envy and understanding strikes you. A life like James’s, where every need is met and yet every moment is filled with pressure, seems both enviable and overwhelming. You wonder what it’s like to be constantly in the spotlight, where you’re always defined by your roles and responsibilities.

“Yeah, I can see that,” you say thoughtfully. “It’s like you’re always juggling flaming swords or something. Not that you don’t handle it well, but even superheroes need a break.”

James chuckles, a warm sound that makes your heart flutter. “Flaming swords, huh? I’ll have to add that to my résumé.”

You laugh, feeling the tension ease. “Definitely. ‘Expert at juggling flaming swords while looking fabulous.’”

James grins, clearly enjoying the playful banter. “Well, in that case, you should put ‘master of witty comebacks’ on your résumé.”

You playfully nudge him. “I think I’ll leave that off. Don’t want to make anyone too jealous.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you shake your head. "I guess it's just... I just never thought I'd be doing something like this, you know?" You pause for a beat, searching for the right words. It’s James that speaks next, "Ever since we met, I just can't get you out of my head. I know it sounds silly, but..." You let the silence stretch out between you, unsure of what he is going to say next. You chuckle softly, a smile spreading across your face. "It doesn't sound silly at all," You say warmly. "In fact, I think…I think I've been feeling the same way."

James lets out a small laugh, feeling a surge of relief rush through him. "I guess we both felt the same way," you say, looking up at James. "I'm just glad you finally said something about it cause I would have been too embarrassed to say anything."

A small laugh shakes out of James as he leans down, his face inches away from yours. "And I'm glad I did," he says, his breath ruffling your hair.

With that, he leans in, his lips pressing softly against yours. The kiss is slow and sweet, and you feel like you're floating on a cloud of happiness. You can't quite believe that this is really happening, that James is really kissing you - and yet, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. As the kiss comes to an end, you look directly into James' eyes, feeling like your heart is about to burst out of your chest. "Thank you," you say softly, the words barely above a whisper.

James just smiles, a twinkle in his eye. "Thank you, too," he says, his voice dripping with affection.

James stands in the empty kitchen, holding a piece of bread mid-bite. He’s just about to savor his sandwich when Margaret and Sirius burst through the door, their faces lit up with mischievous grins.

“So,” Margaret begins, her tone teasing, “who’s the mystery girl, James?”

James freezes, his hand still in mid-air, sandwich poised to take a bite. He looks at Margaret and Sirius with wide eyes, clearly caught off guard. He appears to be weighing the pros and cons of revealing his new relationship to his best friends.

Sirius steps forward with a grin that could rival the Cheshire Cat’s. “James, we’re not here to judge. We just want to make sure you’re happy. And if she makes you happy, then she makes us happy too. So, who is she?”

James swallows his bite, a smile slowly spreading across his face as he glances between Margaret and Sirius. “How did you even find out about this?” he asks, a mix of excitement and nervousness lacing his voice.

Margaret chuckles, leaning against the counter with an air of casual superiority. “Let’s just say we have our sources,” she says, her eyes twinkling with mischief. James raises an eyebrow, looking at her with a mixture of amusement and suspicion.

Sirius sighs dramatically, pressing his palms together as if in prayer. “Mom told us,” he reveals with a theatrical flair. “She’s one of us, after all.” He nods towards Margaret, who rolls her eyes but can’t suppress a proud smirk.

Sirius takes a few more steps toward James, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Come on, spill the beans. Who is she? We’re practically family.”

James takes a deep breath, a laugh escaping his lips. “Alright, alright. Her name is Y/n, and she works here in the kitchens.”

Margaret’s eyes light up with excitement, and she steps closer to James, practically vibrating with curiosity. “We need to know all the details. How did you meet her?”

Before James can answer, the phone starts to ring loudly, cutting through the conversation. James looks momentarily flustered, glancing between Margaret and Sirius before heading out of the kitchen to answer it. His face grows serious as he speaks into the phone, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper.

Sirius and Margaret exchange a concerned look, their eyes fixed on James as he speaks intently into the device. They can’t make out the words, but the seriousness of the conversation is palpable.

James’s expression turns darker, his lips curving into a frown. He glances over his shoulder, his gaze briefly meeting theirs before he hangs up the phone. He steps back into the kitchen, his face lined with worry.

“I have to go,” James says, his voice tinged with anxiety. “Something’s come up. I’m sorry.”

Margaret’s face pales slightly, her concern deepening. “Is everything alright?”

James looks at her with frustration and sadness etched into his features. “I’m not sure. I’ll let you know when I know more.” With that, he exits the kitchen, the door closing softly behind him.

As the door clicks shut, Sirius’s phone buzzes in his pocket. Margaret, ever the curious one, quickly rushes to his side. They both glance down at the screen, their faces a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Sirius hits the speakerphone button, and Remus’s voice crackles through. “Have you heard? Have you seen the news?”

Remus’s tone is strained and urgent, and Sirius’s brow furrows as he listens intently. “What’s going on, Remus?” Sirius asks, his voice thick with worry.

Remus takes a deep breath before delivering the news. “It’s Delilah,” he says, his voice low and intense. “She’s back.”

Margaret’s eyes widen in shock, and she looks at Sirius, whose expression has grown grim. “Delilah? As in the evil wicked witch of the west Delilah?”

Sirius lips tug and he grins at Margaret. “Yeah, the one and only. This isn’t good.”

Margaret takes a deep breath, her face pale. “What does this mean?”

Sirius glances at Margaret, his expression serious. “It means things are about to get complicated. We need to figure out what’s going on and what we’re going to do next.”

Margaret’s gaze shifts back to Sirius, and she nods, determination settling on her face. “Alright. Let’s figure this out. But first,” she adds with a wry smile, “can we finish the sandwich before all hell breaks loose?”

Sirius chuckles, the tension in the room easing slightly. “You know, I think that’s a brilliant idea. Can’t let a good sandwich go to waste, after all.”

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