#james potter x self insert

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Bed Hopper

Bsf!James Potter x Bsf!Reader

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

Wc: 1k

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

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

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

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

His jaw dropped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[deatheaterv]

ENDEARING

pairing : james potter x fem!reader

genre : fluff

summary : james potter teases you ALOT

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

but then he ramped it up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it didn’t stop there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the next day, he upped the ante.

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

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

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

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

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

you rolled your eyes. “please stay away.”

“sure, but a kiss first?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“oh, merlin,” lily muttered.

“y/n, will you do me the honor of..”

“potter, i swear to god—“

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

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

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

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

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

[moonstruckme]

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

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

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You tense. “Okay…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re really filling!” 

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

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

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

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

James isn’t having it. “And what?” 

“Nothing.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You really don’t have to.” 

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

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

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

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

[sun-kissy]

espresso | j.p

james potter x sunshine!reader

summary: james sees you at a cafe, and is enamoured by your brightness. you pay for his drink, and he can't help falling in love.

cw: fluff

James Potter could count the number of times he’d been told he was bright with both hands – what a ray of sunshine he was, how he lit up the room with his smile – and he still wouldn’t have enough fingers. 

But one look at you made him question every such compliment he’d been given. If he was sunshine, you were the whole goddamn sun. 

So close, yet so far; you stood just a few feet in front of him in the queue to the café counter. And he was lying if he said he wasn’t already enamoured.

James thought the word pretty must’ve been made to describe you, all soft curves, sweet smiles, daisies in your braid and little white dress. You were laughing brightly, phone clutched to your ear. He felt a small pang of envy for not being the one to elicit it. 

But he felt lucky to even be able to see you like this — in all your beauty and light and gentleness. It wasn’t even winter, and he’d gotten so close to warmth. What a great day.

You step forward for your turn, and James shamelessly gazes at you. He sees you beam at the barista and order your drink, before jerking your thumb backwards. He steps forward curiously.

“... yeah, I’d like to pay for the person behind me, if that’s okay,” you smile and nod. 

His heart does a little somersault in his chest, and he feels the affection pool like honey in his throat. So you didn’t just look the part, you really were sweetness personified.

James steps up to order next, clearing his throat. You’re stood beside him, patiently waiting for your drink as you type away on your phone. Maybe this is his chance.

He clears his throat and looks at the barista. “Hi.” Loud. Too loud. “Um… I’d like to get an espresso, please.”

“Okay, anything else? Your drink’s been paid for by the person in front of you.”

“Oh, wow,” he tries to look surprised, nervous fingers going to rub the nape of his neck. “Wow, that’s… that’s really nice. Um, I’d like to pay for the person behind me too,” he says slightly louder than he would’ve. 

You hear, just like James wanted you to, and turn to give him a small smile. He feels like doing a victory lap around the block.

That’s until a confused Sirius pokes his head out from behind James, giving him a strange look. “Prongs, weren’t you gonna pay for me anyway?”

James internally smacks his palm to his forehead. Instead, he turns to glare at Sirius, hoping it conveys everything he wants it to. Sirius just blinks.

He sighs and turns back to the barista embarrassedly, hoping you hadn’t noticed.

He’s about to open his mouth to wave it off when he hears you giggle, and swivels to look at you. It’s like everything in him instantly softens, seeing the sparkle in your eyes and the bashful way you press your hand to your mouth. You’re looking at him like he just said something really funny. He thinks maybe he’d be the butt of every joke if it meant getting to see that smile.

James mindlessly pays for his drink before eagerly stepping towards you. His heart feels like it’s going to start doing jumping jacks, or maybe he might, to get rid of this insane amount of anxiety. “Hi.” He hopes he doesn’t sound as nervous as he feels.

“Hi,” you smile sweetly, slurping on your drink.

“You owe me one,” he blurts out.

“Huh?”

God, now he’s really messed up. “No, no, I meant –” he runs his hand through his hair, “– I owe you one. For, you know, the coffee?”

“Oh,” you laugh softly, easing up a little. He releases the breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “No, you don’t. That was the whole point of it.”

“Let me take you out.”

He almost lets out a squeak after having said that, immediately pressing his palm to his mouth like he’d just revealed a national secret. What was wrong with him? He watches your reaction carefully.

You smile, and turn the loveliest shade of pink he’s ever seen. “You don’t even know me.”

“I want to know you.”

His tongue seemed to be speaking of its own accord. Maybe he’d give it a tongue-lashing later, but for now, he’d let it get him a date.

You consider him for a while, smile widening slightly. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he exhales with a grin, running his fingers through his curls again. “Okay, sunshine. I’m James.”

You blush at the term of endearment. “Hi, James. I’m Y/n.”

“Hi,” he mumbles. “Hi, Y/n.”

You both stare shyly at each other for a moment, like you’re taking the other in. Getting to know them, even though you weren’t, really. Maybe that’s how it had always been; the sun knew of its sunshine even though it couldn’t see the rays itself.

You clear your throat bashfully. “I have to go.”

“Oh, um – okay, wait –” James scrambles in his pocket for his phone before holding it out to you. “Your number?”

Your face lights up as you take it and type your number in. You hand it back to him. “Does tomorrow work?”

He nods enthusiastically. “Yup, tomorrow works. Same place?”

“Same place.”

“Okay, then,” he exhales, unable to stop the smile on his lips. “Bye, sunshine.”

“Bye,” you grin shyly and wave, pressing your straw to your lips as you turn around to leave.

A daisy falls out of your hair, landing softly on the wooden tiles. James picks it up and tucks it into the shirt pocket next to his heart.

[novvabee]

Training for the Ballet Potter?🩰

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

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

word count: 2.6K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She groaned but opened her door and slipped out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, yeah.” James replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your little crush.” Marlene said plainly.

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

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

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

taglist 🍓: @navs-bhat

[allllium]

✿ Best James Potter Fics on Tumblr ❀

> Fluff <

Sunday-Side-Up

Tattoo

↳ [ @dearharriet ]

Insecure ~ [ @moonlightspencie ]

Heart Chaser ~ [ @empress-simps ]

Flustered ~ [ @maraudersmyloves ]

I have a girlfriend ~ [ @moonstruckme ]

A Quick Kiss ~ [ @fourmoony ]

Love Letters ~ [ @amiableness ]

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

Post Nap Hug ~ [ @inkdrinkerworld ]

What Girlfriends do ~ [ @wzrd-wheezes ]

> Hurt/Comfort <

First Choice ~ [ @fourmoony ]

> Angst <

Gold Rush ~ [ @pretty-little-mind33 ]

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

I Want to be Loved First ~ [ @livinginshambles ]

[cowboylikemac]

LOVE NOTES | J.P

“ love’s a game, wanna play? ”

james potter x reader

including : fluff

word count : 1k+

Valentine’s Day at Hogwarts had always been an over-the-top affair. Professor Flitwick charmed pink and red paper hearts to float lazily through the corridors, Madam Pince enforced an even stricter no public displays of affection in the library rule (which never stopped couples from sneaking into the Restricted Section), and Peeves delighted in dropping flower petals—or sometimes actual ink—onto unsuspecting students’ heads.

It was ridiculous. Excessive. Completely overdone.

And yet, it had never mattered much to you—until now.

Because for the first time in your life, you had a secret admirer.

The first note had appeared in your Potions textbook, folded so neatly it was clear whoever had left it had taken great care. The parchment was slightly crinkled, as if it had been held too tightly before finally being placed inside.

“A smile like yours could rival the sun—lucky for us, you don’t burn as bright, or I’d be blinded every time you walked by.”

At first, you assumed it was some sort of prank. Maybe Sirius Black was up to his usual nonsense, or perhaps some lovesick Hufflepuff had gotten the courage to anonymously express their feelings. Either way, you dismissed it as a fluke.

Until the second note arrived.

This one was slipped into your robe pocket between Transfiguration and Charms, folded once with the same careful handwriting:

“If kindness had a sound, I think it would be your laugh.”

The third note came the following morning, waiting for you at breakfast beside your goblet of pumpkin juice:

“I swear the library is quieter when you aren’t there. Even the books miss you.”

By the fourth note, which had been tucked into your favorite quill case, you were officially flustered.

Who in Merlin’s name was doing this?

Who was noticing these small things about you?

And, more importantly… why did it make your heart pound so much?

The answer, of course, came in the form of one James Potter—who, much to your amusement, was not handling the situation well.

“What do you mean someone is leaving you notes?” James demanded, sitting across from you in the Gryffindor common room, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His hazel eyes, usually filled with mischief, were narrowed in something suspiciously close to jealousy.

You raised an eyebrow, casually twirling the most recent note between your fingers. “I mean exactly that, James. Someone’s been leaving me love notes.”

James’s scowl deepened. “But who?”

You resisted the urge to laugh. “If I knew that, they wouldn’t be a secret admirer, would they?”

Sirius, who had been lounging beside James, smirked in amusement, clearly enjoying his best mate’s unraveling. “Merlin, Prongs, you sound jealous.”

James scoffed, waving a hand in frustration. “I’m not jealous—I’m concerned, love.” He gestured wildly. “What if it’s some creep? Some bloke with terrible intentions?”

You shot him a look. “James. Someone who writes poetry about my laugh doesn’t exactly scream dangerous.”

James ran a hand through his messy hair, looking properly exasperated. “I just don’t like the idea of you getting all these notes from some anonymous git who can’t even sign his name.”

Sirius snorted. “Big words coming from the bloke who’s been carrying his love letter around for two weeks without delivering it.”

James immediately stiffened.

You blinked.

“What?” you asked slowly, turning to James.

James spluttered, his face immediately turning scarlet. “I—I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

Sirius threw his head back, absolutely delighted at the turn of events. “Oh, come off it, Prongs! You’re the worst secret admirer in history.”

You stared at James, your heart hammering in your chest. “Wait.” You sat up straighter, gripping the note between your fingers. “You wrote these?”

James didn’t respond right away. Instead, he let out a quiet groan, dropping his head into his hands. When he finally spoke, his voice was muffled. “Maybe?”

Sirius was howling with laughter now. “Oh, this is bloody fantastic! You’ve been ‘jealous’ of yourself this whole time!”

James groaned again, refusing to lift his head. “I hate everything.”

You, meanwhile, were trying very hard not to laugh.

“James,” you said, reaching out to gently pry his hands away from his face. He peeked up at you through his fingers, looking so embarrassed that it was almost endearing.

You squeezed his hand. “You’re an idiot.”

James exhaled sharply, finally meeting your gaze. “I know.”

“But,” you continued, a small smile tugging at your lips, “you’re a very sweet idiot.”

James perked up ever so slightly. “Sweet enough for a Valentine’s date, pretty girl?”

You hummed, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. Maybe.”

James straightened. “Maybe?”

You grinned, enjoying the way his face lit up. “I might be more convinced if you write me one more love note.”

James groaned dramatically, though there was no hiding the dopey, lovesick smile spreading across his face.

And when Valentine’s Day finally arrived, a final note appeared on your bedside table, written on slightly crumpled parchment in familiar, loopy handwriting:

“I may have been late to the game, but if you’ll let me, I’d love to be the only one writing you love notes from now on.”

And something told you that he would be.

happy valentines day from yours truly, mac <3

masterlist!

tags: @lydiascabinsix @lydiasfalling @laufeysvalentine

[elegantlyeva]

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

DAY TWO

Unfairly Balanced

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

Word Count: 0.4K 

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

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

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

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

He shrugged. “I’m a quick learner.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[writtenbymoonflower]

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

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

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

735 words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[foodiegoogie]

he gets me so high

james potter x fem!reader plot: a modern high school marauders au where it’s the 21st century, and everyone is alive and well. james potter is a varsity student athlete in basketball, and you’re president of the school photography club. cw/tags: title is from beabadoobee’s song. muggle!au, kinda crack, everyone is in their senior year, lots n lots of highschool clichés, the usual trigger warnings (i.e. blood, food, etc), incredibly self-indulgent,, and just a whole lot of innocent romance and fun :) WARNING - this won't be regularly updated since im a busy person and a slow writer ;) but i'll try my best to update asap! also will be accepting requests from this universe <3 drop some when they're open :D

⤷ this is a non-chronological blurb series! but they'll be separated into three phases: pre-dating, dating, and a few time-skip blurbs :3

O1: handy fan

...more blurbs to come!

[ailoda]

Hi baby!! How are you?? I hope everything’s well🫶🏻

I just have been looking for a fic these past couple of days, but just can’t remember the name nor the author! That’s why I thought of you, you maybe could know what I’m talking about?

It’s a James x reader series where reader is apart of the golden trio era, but then because of a time tuner I think ends up in the past with the marauders. I think it has 6 parts of something? Not sure lol.

It’s okay if you don’t know what I’m talking about!! Just thought I’d ask :) I’m a big fan of your service babe😌🫶🏻

Lots of love 💗

hi, my lovely! i’m doing good :) i hope you’re having a good morning/afternoon/evening/night 🫶🫶

so, the first one that popped into my head was Time Warp by @astonishment. it is 10 parts however, so if it’s not then please let me know as i’d be happy to take a deeper look to see if i can help.

on the off chance you haven’t, i’ve found making a post detailing everything you remember about the fic really does wonders! as general or obscure as you can recall—anything helps!

and thank you for the kind words too, my darling. at your service 🫡

so many hugs and kisses <33

aimee x

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Why Couldn't It Be Us

James Potter x Lestrange!Reader

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

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

WC:3.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

James felt his stomach drop.  

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

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

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

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

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

Then the booth erupted in cheers.  

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

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

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

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

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

But inside, he was breaking.  

That should be us.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wasn’t about him, he reminded himself. 

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

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

He was fine. He was always fine.

“Hey, you alright?” 

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

She looked a hell of a lot like you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he said yes.

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

He felt normal.

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

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

He didn’t think about you.

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

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

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

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

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

Lestrange Manor.

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

The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. 

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

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

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

Then, slowly, he turned the pages again.

Avery Manor.

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

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

And then, it answered.

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

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

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

But he couldn’t. 

“...James?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“James, are you- are you drunk?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d hung up.

[moonstruckme]

As promised: more roommate!james

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

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Thunder crashes. A branch from the tree outside smacks into your bedroom window, making you jump. You smile a little at your reaction, and a frisson goes up your spine, giddy. 

You’re kind of in a euphoric state tonight. 

The storm came in early, darkening the sky hours before its time and bringing torrents of rain down upon your home. Immediately, your windows had been opened, your candles lit, and you were curled up on your bed with a book in your hands. 

Downstairs, you can hear the familiar buzz of the TV playing one of James’ sports games. The whole apartment smells like the cookies you made earlier, which you have a small plate of next to you and which your roommate had moaned as he’d bitten into upon you offering some to him. Sweetheart, keep spoiling me like this and you’ll never get me to leave. 

Suffice to say, you’ve been having a fairly good evening. 

Your book is just starting to pick up when the TV quiets. Everything quiets. There’s a thud, followed by a hissed curse. 

You laugh a little. Pick up your phone. 

Alright down there? You text James. 

More thudding sounds. You think about picking your book back up, but decide to wait.

If I were bleeding out on the living room floor, do you think I’d be able to text you back?

A moment later: If you wanted to do a thorough job of seeing I was alright, you should have come and seen for yourself.

Then: And I heard you laughing.

You smile to yourself, a quiet chuckle escaping you. Sorry, can’t, you reply. Too cozy. 

You hear his heavy footfalls coming up the stairs, and you have only a few moments to brace yourself before he’s swinging open your door. 

Lately, your body has been doing this thing where he looks at you and it’s like the ground softens beneath you. Luckily, you’re already on a bed, so it’s not really possible this time. 

James shuts off the flashlight on his phone, looking around your room with the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“Woah. Are you having a seance in here?” 

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way the candlelight plays prettily over his features. “You’re just jealous that I was prepared for the power to go out and you weren’t.” 

“It looks like you were hoping for it.” James grins. He starts to cross the room, and you’re like a sunflower to your light as you tilt to face him. 

He lays down next to you on your bed, on his stomach with his forearms propping him up. It’s a somewhat tight fit, but James doesn’t seem to mind the way his hip and shoulder are touching yours. His shampoo smell wraps around you like a hug. 

You pick up your tea as an excuse not to look at him, blowing softly before taking a sip. James watches you consideringly. 

“You really are thriving in here, aren’t you?” he teases softly. “Look at you, you’ve got your fuzzy socks on, your tea, your book. You’re in paradise.” 

You smile sheepishly as you set your tea down on the floor. “Sorry you couldn’t finish your game.” 

“Oh, it’s alright.” He nudges your shoulder with his. “I’d rather hang with you anyway.” 

You feel your brows furrow, a confusing mass of emotions knotting in your chest. “Don’t say that,” you tell him softly.

You can feel James’ gaze warming the side of your face. His voice is just as quiet. “Why not?” 

You look over, and his eyes don’t flit away like a sane person’s would. They’re steady and warm as the flames around you. Instantly the room feels too small, him a little too close. 

James’ smile is almost tentative. “Look, I know you drew the short stick with this roommate agreement, but I plan to soak up as much roomie time as I can get. Sorry.” 

“I did not,” you murmur. 

“Didn’t what?” 

“You drew the short stick.” Your face burns. You know James too well to think he’d be making fun of you, but it’s difficult to imagine an alternative. He can’t really think you don’t like having him as a roommate after all the ways he’s been a friend to you, the times he’s stepped in to help, when you’ve only been a burden and a drag. “Not me.” 

His eyebrows twitch closer to each other, and his lips tilt bemusedly, as though they’re unsure of what else to do. The lenses of his glasses reflect the candlelight, brown eyes molten behind them. 

“I’m inclined to disagree,” he says. The air between you feels thick and sweet. Your heart seems to know something you don’t, quickening its rhythm in your chest. Then, because it’s James, he flicks up a brow. “Truce?” 

You laugh quietly, turning your face down towards your book. There are goosebumps going all down your arms. “Sure,” you say. 

“Good,” he murmurs. “Glad that’s settled.” 

You don’t respond this time. You’re not sure you can. The words on your page blur by, unnoticed and unimportant.

Lightning cracks outside. You gasp and turn to see it, and James’ lips meet you there. 

You should have known he would be soft like this. You’ve kept yourself from thinking about it, but you could have guessed. The first gentle, warm press of his mouth is so lovely you get lost in it, but when it lasts for too long and he starts to draw back, you remember that you can move, too. 

He takes in a tiny inhale when you part your lips for him, his hand finding your waist and his body curving over yours. Your arm falls out from under you, and James follows you down. He tastes sweet and familiar, like home. 

You bring your hands up to his face, one resting tentatively on his cheek while the other toys with the idea of slipping its fingers into his hair. The sky rumbles outside. Your heart pitters. 

“It’s okay,” James mumbles. His voice buzzes against your lips. “It’s okay, sweetheart, please.” 

You grasp at the roots of his hair, palm settling more surely on his cheek, and James makes a sound low in his throat. He breaks the kiss to pull off his glasses. You take them from where he sets them on the bed, placing them more carefully on the floor where they’re not so likely to get crushed. His lips curve over yours. You think that if you were to detour to either side, you might find a dimple in his cheek. 

“James,” you murmur. 

“Oh, it’s James again now, is it?” 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He kisses the corner of your mouth. “What is it?” 

“Are you sure?” 

It’s a nonsensical question, but in fairness you think all the blood that’s supposed to be in your brain has gone to your lips, and James seems to get what you mean anyway. 

He chuckles quietly. “I am, yeah.” He makes a sound that’s almost like a sigh, hand climbing up your back until it’s trapped between your shoulders and your bed. “I don’t ever tell you how lovely you are, but I’ve…I’m sure. What about you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I think so.” 

“That’s okay.” James kisses your chin, the curve of your jaw. 

“You’re lovely, too,” you tell him somewhat desperately. His lashes tickle your cheek. Your fingers are still burrowed in the hair at his nape. “I never tell you. I like when you’re here.” 

You feel his smile bloom against your skin. “I like you too, sweetheart,” he says, voice light with teasing. 

You frown, wishing he would take you seriously. “I do. I really like you.” 

“I think I like you more.” 

You scoff. He nips at your jaw, surprising a laugh out of you. “You can’t always win,” you say. 

James makes a happy humming sound. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

[sun-kissy]

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

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

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

james potter x reader

tw: fluffy fluff, james is a flirt <3

“Hey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Use your words, pretty girl.”

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

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

“Reading, huh?”

“Mhm.”

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

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

“You don’t know what you’re reading?”

“No, no! I do, but um…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really am sorry, I –”

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

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

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

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

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

“Um… a little.”

“C’mere.”

You blink at him. “Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you mumble.

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

“Is this alright?”

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

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

san's christmas sleepover

[fictional-magic]

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

[sun-kissy]

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

Everything to Everyone

James Potter x fem!reader

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

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

Summary: you can’t keep doing this

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

<>

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You return the kiss eagerly and James chuckles.

“Ready for the game tonight?”

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

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

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

“See you at the game, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why, why, why, why, why?

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

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

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

“Angel, you gotta breathe for me.”

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

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

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

“Angel can you take a deep breath?”

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

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

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

“Like this.”

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

“That’s my girl. You’re doing it.”

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

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

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

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

Your body trembles and you nod appreciatively.

“Do you want a hug?”

“Y-yeah.”

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

The world starts to come back to you.

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

His smell, a mixture of cologne and sweat.

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

His red jersey smushed against your face.

The remnants of your salty tears on your lips.

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

“What’d you say, angel?”

“I can’t keep doing this, Jamie.”

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

“You can’t keep doing what?”

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

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

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

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

He pauses thoughtfully.

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