#q1wjames potter x reader

[whorediaries-09]

Hi! if you still taking requests I'd love to make another one about the love of my life, James Potter.

I know it might be super cliche but I was thinking about professor! James forgetting his lunch or maybe reader is a sweetheart who brings lunch to him and everyone at Hogwarts it's obsessed with them because they're sooo cute and they're like their cool school parents

Please and thank u, muak right to youuu.

ugghh this is so cute!! i loved writing this one!! i hope you like it!

labyrinth;

pairing- professor!james potter x professor!reader warning(s)- fluff. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- i literally changed a lot but it's low-key similar?? i'm sorry though i hope you understand, my brain could only come up with this.

little train.

' you would break your back to make me break a smile you know how much I hate that everybody just expects me to bounce back '

'good morning students! i hope you've got your models ready for today.' you say, walking into the class. the curtains have been rolled up perfectly by your plethora of eager art students, who chant a good morning, staring at you as your steps fall into the classroom. they know you like to work with the sunlight.

they scramble around their canvases and models, the soles of their shoes rubbing against the newly polished tiles. they look at you with eager faces, waiting for your model to appear. you raise your hands, addressing them.

'okay so this the first class is for realism - which annoys a lot of people over here, i know. but everybody has to pass these few assignments okay? i've to send them for supervision to the higher authorities so that they can ensure i've put on the correct grades according to the quality of the work.'

'because unlike you, they don't care about the creativity,' the political science professor enters the classroom, wearing his dazzling white smile. the students turn their heads, watching him enter the room. among the few students who know both him and you, there's rumbling. and among those who know you, there's questions rising of the cause of the sudden rumbling.

'quieten down kids, no more talking. this is a very important class. you'll learn the basics and the importance of this branch of art. mr. potter,' you look him in the eye. he visibly tones down his raised arms and shoulders, 'i need you to bring me two tools and a canvas.' he nods.

*-

james is sitting directly under the rays of the sun. they are golden, reflecting upon his beautiful dusky brown skin. it hits him in the eye, but he's still, letting you take your sweet time while you explain the theories and the basics of the art.

he likes how patiently you teach them the correct ways and methods while also consoling them by reminding them every other artist has a unique style and shouldn't be bound by some rules. you stay to teaching them the outlines of color theories, which couldn't be modified much when this art style was practiced.

he's also never felt this nervous and giddy. he's usually a very confident man, but within your presence, a few ties of his uptight confidence break, and all hell loses free. he's turns into a puddle right under your piercing gaze, which is unusual for a man like james potter. he would still remember the day you'd asked him to model for you. he'd gone home and giggled into the pillow like a high school high on hormones.

'hi, mr. potter,' you'd whispered behind him. he'd been talking to sirius. he'd been taken aback by your sudden appearance- and sirius' lack of reaction, considering he'd been sitting facing james.

he turned around, and by habit ruffled his already messy hair. he smiled, trying to hide the pleasant shock behind his eyes. he felt his cheeks warming up with the way you looked at him. sliding him a paper cup, you stood, twiddling with your thumbs.

'this is?-'

'chai! masala chai! consider it a bribe for the awkward question i'm about to ask.'

'nothing is awkward james, love. i think you'll be fine.' sirius said. he slipped his fingers within the crook of his jacket that had been hanging on the edge of the chair. he smiled, a mischievous uplift of his lips. 'but just in case,' he said, walking out of the room, leaving you and james alone. james gulped, following his friend's silhouette.

'so...'

'yeah, uhm so i was wondering whether you'd model for me? only if you're comfortable though!' james was sure the red hot blood rush into his cheeks was extremely was visible. he felt his nerves turn mush and stomach flip with giddiness.

'i don't particularly mind it no,' he said. he took the burning cup into his grip, taking a slow sip. he only hoped it wouldn't be too spicy.

'so you're up for it?' you asked. he saw the tension from your back literally lift up, and a glee float in your eyes.

'i am up for it,' he said taking another sip of the tea. 'but you need to tell me why me,' you rubbed the back of your head, laughing nervously.

'uhh... i think you've gorgeously complicated features which would allow me to teach my students with enthusiasm because i teach the best with complicated features. i don't mean it in a harsh way, i also think you're beautiful so...' he nodded letting your words sink into his brain and stop himself from taking you by your neck and press his lips onto yours.

'is it any good? the tea?' you asked, breaking the awkward tension and the lack of his response. you wondered whether you made him uncomfortable with your answer.

'it's perfect. the sweetness and the spiciness.'

it was not.

*-

'okay so carefully outline your vision for the model, and let your brains take over your mind! this has been a boring class i realize but please submit your homework by the deadline so i'll suggest ways for improving your work-'

'-because this is extremely important for your grades students. now the kids over here who are also in my class, i'll deduct grades if you all don't take her words seriously.' james completed for you, cracking his back and rolling his shoulders. the students booed mockingly. one of them, a fiery person too raised her voice,

'you're barely serious in your own classes!' james knitted his eyebrows.

'are you questioning my abilities of teaching?'

'no, i'm not. i'm saying you're not serious in your own lessons sometimes- and you're a pretty much of a goofball yourself.'

'that's fine, i can be a goofball and be a good professor too. ms. grace, please mind your tone, or i'll be obliged to turn into an insufferable old prat.'

'okay come on let's not create an unnecessary drama over here, you have theatres and mr. pettigrew to help with that.' you said, trying to calm down bubbling waters. the students picked up their bags, walking away. yet again, leaving the both of you alone.

james helped you put on your coat. he wondered whether his part was done. he wondered why he cared so much about whether his part was done or not. the question lingered at the tip of his tongue before he spat it out.

'is my work done now?' he asks. you linger, your back faced towards him. he feels a wave of heat from your body crumple over his senses. you turn around, facing him. the remnants of the sun rays surround him, filtering out his outline. there's something in his eyes. a string of vulnerability you've never seen in his eyes. a string of vulnerability he's never felt within his.

'no.' you say. your breath is hot, which falls on his lips. he gulps, noticing how close you are. somehow it feels natural. in your piercing gaze he feels his beating heart stop. it's as if your features are one hell of a drug, reeking him into a spiral of things he's never felt before. your beauty is surreal, captured within his memories and his heart. he wishes he'd capture the way he sees you onto the canvas.

'are you bored of me, james?' you ask. you've never said his name before. it sets his senses on fire, a creeping hotness melting onto his nerves.

'no,' he says. he moves closer, his mouth so close to yours. he wants to touch them, get drunk upon the reminiscent taste he's never tasted before.

'are you sure, james?' you ask, your eyes falling onto his lips. he nods, unable to answer. in your eyes, he sees his portrait in a beauty he's never seen before. his fingers slips into yours, and he feels them.

and he wonders, when your fingers work on the canvas, how you conceive him, how you decipher him. all he's sure of is that he's the most beautiful when you portray him.

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