#old money!james potter

[yrluvjane]

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝑰𝑰

[old money] James x fem!reader

《 Summary - James deals with feelings, and you fall ill after hearing the rumours spread about you of the day before, leaving you under his care.》

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

As James sat in his office, surrounded by a sea of paperwork and reports, all waiting for his signature, he couldn't help but think about you. Despite the relentless pressure of the approaching deadline, you kept popping up in his mind like a persistent siren, demanding his attention. 

There was something about you that James found intriguing, something that made him want to get to know you better, to understand what it was that made him feel this way. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something about you that kept drawing him in - a spark, perhaps, or a certain sparkle that shone through in everything you did.

Maybe James was hallucinating, maybe it was just the rays of the sun shining over you but even then, he had met many beautiful women throughout his life, but there was something about you that set you apart, a certain inner light that made you special and captivating. 

James had always felt like he was a passenger in his own life, watching the days and weeks and months go by with no real sense of purpose. He tried to go with the flow and make the best of what he had, but deep down he knew it wasn't enough. He longed for something deeper and more meaningful, but was too afraid to take the risk and step out of his comfort zone.

He was stuck in this limbo of uncertainty, unsure of what to do and who to be. The only thing he knew for sure was that he wanted something more, something different, something like you.

He remembered how your eyes shined in the afternoon sun, and the connection that he felt to you that he couldn't quite put his finger on. James' thoughts drifted off, lost in the memory of that day in the garden, feeling a twinge of regret for not pursuing things further. 

He wondered what could have been, if he had been braver and taken a chance on you and he couldn't help but smile to himself, imagining what could have been, but before he could fully indulge in his thoughts, he registered the clicking sound of heels approaching his door. With a groan of resignation, he prepared himself to entertain another one of Marge's ramblings. 

As the door opened, the noise of the crowded office poured in, threatening to disrupt the peace and quiet of his own space. With a deep sigh, he took a deep breath and listened.

“It’s your dad.” She says. 

"Hello?" He says, a big smile spreading across his face. "Dad!" He says, his voice overflowing with joy. "How are you?" He asks, his mind already racing with all the questions he has for his father. James listens intently as his father speaks, taking in every word and relishing in the sound of his voice. 

His father is always there for him, no matter what, and that feeling of connection and security is indescribable. Even now, when he is older and wiser, James can't help but feel grateful for his father's constant love and support, and he knows that he's lucky to have someone who has been such a guiding force in his life. 

And so James decides to share his moment with you with his father, feeling a sense of relief as he does so.

The moment his son is done talking, Fleamont turns to his wife, full knowing she will be very interested in what he’s about to say. “What is it, Fleamont? Is he alright?”

"I think James fancies someone." he whispers, looking at her in disbelief. Euphemia's expression immediately softens and she breaks into a joyful grin. This was the first time Fleamont had witnessed his son developing a romantic interest, and it was a sight to behold.

Yes, James has had intimate relationships with women before but even though James didn’t admit to feeling something for this girl. Fleamont knew better, he can’t recall a time in his life where James had described someone in such a picturesque way.

"She's like a sunrise on a cold winter morning - she just lights up the whole room. Though very direct and sharp, definitely not someone you'd want to go head to head with."

"Ever smelled Jasmines before? Bloody irresistible. It's like she's walking around with a bouquets of them,"

Euphemia, not one to be kept out of the loop when it comes to her son's love life, immediately grabbed her phone and began to pester Sirius for information. She was eager to know who this girl was and how long James had been keeping her a secret. She knew that James held a special place in his heart for Sirius, the raven-haired boy who had been a constant presence in his life and was a brother to him and a son to her. 

She was sure that if James were to confide in anyone about his romantic interests, it would be with Sirius. So you could imagine Euphemia’s surprise  when she found out that Sirius was just as clueless as she was. Who was this girl that had caught James' attention? She wondered.

However, on the other side, James was completely oblivious to the fact that his previous actions would have an impact on your life. He never considered the consequences of his gestures, which would rather sooner than later turn your world upside down, leaving you to get burned and pick up the pieces.

The next day, you tried to downplay the whole thing when your friends had asked about him. They had seen the flowers and had immediately assumed that something more was going on between you. You had spent the better hour of an afternoon denying they were nothing more than that, Flowers.

They grilled you for hours, probing for any “juicy” detail they could get, and you truly did your best to avoid the topic. They continued to pester you about the man who butted himself into your life and you couldn't help but feel a sense of irritation.

In the end, you were left feeling exhausted and vulnerable, as though your personal boundaries had been completely trampled on by the curiosity of your friends. Your feelings towards James were a complex web of emotions, neither good nor bad, neither right nor wrong. 

James was a charming and charismatic man, and so it was natural to feel a deep and intense attraction towards him, but at the same time, there was a sense of apprehension, a feeling of uncertainty that you couldn't quite shake. Your friends' incessant questioning only served to inflame that feeling of confusion and frustration.

And for some inexplicable reason, it felt as though James was a deeply private matter, and one that you, yourself, didn’t quite understand and would only be revealed on your own terms, when you were ready.

It felt as if they were pressuring you to make sense of something that wasn’t really there. So, you did the only thing you could think of - you changed the subject, or else found a way to distract them long enough for the topic to be forgotten. 

The day after, when you walk into the kitchen, ready to start your shift, you can feel the tension in the air. There's an awkward silence when you enter the kitchen. You keep catching your colleagues exchanging looks and whispering to each other, but no one seems to want to talk to you and dismissive when you try to start a conversation.

No one speaks to you.

They avoid your eyes and whisper to each other in hushed tones. You try to break the silence with a cheerful, "Hey, good morning," but no one responds.

All they do is mutter and shoot you dirty looks and it may be the dramatic side of your brain talking but it almost felt like the whole world was against you, and you don't know what you did. 

You move towards Tina, who was one the first people you met when you first started and as such you considered her a dear friend. She’s standing over the cutting board, busily preparing carrots.Her hair is pulled up in it’s usual tight bun.  "Hey,," you call out quietly, hoping to avoid the attention of others, "Do you have a minute?" She looks up at you, her eyes cold. 

"I’m busy." she replies, her tone sharper and more clipped than the pins used to keep her hair in place.. Your heart sinks, and you try to ignore the disappointment rising within you. Trying to keep your head down and do your work, but it's difficult to focus when everyone around you seems to be avoiding you like the plague.

It's like you're a ghost, invisible and repelling all forms of life.

You feel like you could scream. Why is everyone treating you like this? 

All you want is some answers, and it seems no one is willing to give them to you. Feeling desperate, you decide to approach a more level-headed colleague, Mary. You approach her and try to appear confident, even though you feel anything but. "Hey, Mary," you say, trying to sound casual. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Mary turns to look at you, her eyes lighting up with kindness. "Of course, what's up?" She sends a soft smile at you, warm and welcoming a contrast to how everyone has been to you.

“Is it me, or does everyone seem a bit..closed off?” You try. And subconsciously take a step back when you see Mary’s smile falter for a second. Her brows furrow and it takes little convincing to pass off the look she gives you as pity. She looks at the rest of the crew who all seem to be eyeing her from the corner of their eyes, sending her warning glares like pariah’s eyeing their lunch. And in a fight or flight manner, you snap towards everyone with a glare, daring them to say something. Most go back to focusing on their own work, the minority left have the courage to look back at you and meet your stare. 

“Need help with something?” You offer. If your voice was once a warm fire that encouraged laughs and jokes then now it was an icicle, just as cold, just as sharp.

Mary's expression softens as she sees the concern in your eyes, when you turn back to her. She takes a deep breath and tries to maintain a calm demeanor, even as her own worries begin to surface. "It's not just you," she says softly. "I think–" Her eyes seemed to lock on something and you watched her bite her lips. “Come with me.” She says, her eyes boring into yours as she sends a heated glare to someone behind you.

You notice the tension in Mary's expression and you start to feel a pit forming in your stomach. Her tone is crisp, and you can tell that she has something urgent to say. You take a deep breath as you follow her out through the corridor, away from the others. Her pace is quick, and you almost struggle to keep up with her as she marches ahead. "What's going on, Mary?" you ask, feeling a sense of unease washing over you.

“Yesterday, Mr. Potter gave you flowers.” She says and your eyes widen in shock. How did she know that?  You wondered, it was definitely not the answer you had expected when you walked out here and when your lips parted so you could voice your thoughts, she spoke again, answering your question as though she read your mind.

“There are words going around,” she explained. “Some are saying you and Mr. Potter are…” Mary paused for a moment, “having affairs..” Her eyes are watching you carefully, as if searching for a reaction.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your composure, and you look at Mary with a mix of emotions written all over your face. "Having affairs?" you scoff, your voice barely above a whisper. Mary pauses, her eyes locked on yours. After what feels like an eternity, she finally speaks, her voice soft and almost whispery. "They say that he favors you in an...intimate perspective." Her eyes seem to bore into yours with that, as though she's trying to see into the depths of your soul.

 A strange fusion of guilt and fear wash over you. You can't even imagine what it would be like to be intimate with Mr. Potter, but the thought alone sends shivers down your spine. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and you hold her gaze, trying to be as calm and composed as possible.

"That’s bullshit," you say breathlessly, it almost comes out like a silent whisper, "Nothing happened. The flower pot he gave me was a leftover from the stock bought to decorate the pool."

You feel yourself getting more and more agitated as Mary continues to talk. You don't know why, but the idea that people are talking about you and Mr. Potter, saying that you're having affairs? Who says “having affairs”?! and even…you can't even bring yourself to finish her sentence in your head. If word gets out about this, that dream of getting fired might just come true.

At that you start getting dizzy, your heart is beating faster and faster, and you feel like you're about to pass out. Calm down. Take a deep breath. Everything is going to be okay. You tell yourself, trying to steady your shaking hands. In and out. In and out. You breathe in deeply, then let your breath out slowly, trying to calm yourself down. In and out. You don't even realize that you've started chanting those words to yourself, trying to ground yourself in the present moment.

"Mary, what are they saying?" you manage to say, your voice weak and hoarse. You know that they're talking about you, you can feel it. You can feel their eyes on you, their judgement weighing heavy on your shoulders. You’ve heard it once but you have to hear it again. It’s like your mind refuses to acknowledge this truth. You don’t want to believe this, you don’t even want to go anywhere near it, it’s like a nightmare. One you wish someone would wake you up from.

"What are they saying?" you repeat, this time a little louder, a little stronger. Mary squeezes your waist gently, as if to comfort you, and you hear her speak. "They're saying that you're having an affair with Mr. Potter," she says softly, as if it hurts even to say the words. 

So you heard it right.

You feel a cold chill run down your spine, and you're not sure if you can handle this. You're not sure if you can handle this. The shame, the embarrassment. W-what would your mother say if she heard about this? You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "It's not true," you say this time louder. "I-I mean -They're lying!"

“I know.” She says softly into your ear.

You try to steady yourself, but the world is spinning around you and you feel as if you're going to collapse. Your vision is blurred, and you can barely see anything in front of you. You struggle to take a deep breath, but you feel as if you're suffocating. Mary’s voice rings out in your ears. You feel her arms wrap around you to help keep you standing.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, everything goes black, and you lose consciousness.

You blink your eyes open, and you feel a sense of disorientation as you try to adjust to your situation.

You lie in silence for a moment, drinking in your surroundings. You notice the large and well-appointed room. It was a beautiful room, with ornate wood paneling and large windows that overlooked a beautiful landscape.

The sun was low and shining through the windows, casting a warm and inviting glow onto the room. The bed is made with crisp white sheets, and the AC hums quietly in the background, cooling the air to just the right temperature.

You take a deep breath, feeling your shoulders relax for the first time in ages. You start to wonder where you are, how you got here, and most importantly: who brought you here? You sit up slowly, letting your eyes adjust to the soft lighting in the room as your brain tries to catch up to what's going on.

You're brought back to reality by the feel of a hand on your shoulder, and you jump, startled. You turn to find Olivia, standing next to you, her face a mixture of concern and relief. "You're awake!" she exclaims, and you smile, feeling a sense of warmth settling over you. “What happened?” You asked, clutching your head to try and prevent the brewing headache threatening to occur.

"Are you alright? Do you remember anything?" Olivia's voice was soft, her voice calming. She squeezed your shoulder. "You're awake, which is good. You've been unconscious for a little while, you passed out. Mary caught you before you hit the ground and Anders told us to move you here." She spoke with a comforting tone, her hand rubbing your shoulder reassuringly. “I should probably go and call for him.” She said, 

You blinked owlishly as Olivia quickly excused herself, her pace brisk as she left to go and call the butler. Just as she closed the door behind her, you heard a knock on the door, and you looked up to see Anders enter the room.

“Hey, um...where am I?” You asked, getting up and lying back on a bunch of huddled up pillows. "You're in one of the guestrooms," Anders replied. "Mr. Potter asked to relocate you here after he heard of your fall. I must say, it was quite disturbing to see you like that."

You felt a sense of embarrassment at the thought of fainting in front of everyone, "Thank you for uhm-..helping me," you said."It's no problem. We're just glad to have you back. Are you feeling better now?" he asked, the concern clear in his voice and unintentionally reminding you that everyone is still talking behind your back and your little fainting spell would be like trying to dow out a forest fire with gasoline.

“Just tired.” You responded, laying a hand on your forehead and closing your heavy eyelids; hyper aware of how soft the sheets are and the warmth of the duvet draped over you; a sense of peace settling in.

You hear a soft knock on the door, and you groan and yawn as you roll over to your side, stretching like a cat as you rub the sleep from your eyes. You couldn't help but feel the usual sense of tiredness as you slowly started to rise; your body feeling sluggish and tired. You looked at the clock and realized that you had slept again and this time for hours and it was already the evening. “Come in!” You say, eyes trained on the ticking clock as you jolt up.

In walks Mr. Potter, tray in hand and look of concern etched on his face. His eyes softened with a sheepish smile, "I've brought you some tea and toast—not much, I know, but it hopefully will help you feel better." He sets the tray down on the small table by the bed, his manner warm and comforting.

"Take a bite. It might lift your spirit," Mr. Potter suggests, his deep voice carrying a tone of genuine concern. He hands you the steaming mug, his eyes locked on yours, awaiting your answer. You take the mug less out of politeness and more out of fear.

"How are you feeling? Are you okay? Do you need me to call a doctor?" 

Your words come out weak and hoarse, but you manage to get the message across. "No, I just... I feel dizzy, and my head hurts," you say, closing your eyes, hoping for the room to stop spinning.

He rushes to your side, helping you sit up, before gently stroking your hair back from your forehead, "Can I get you anything? Some water, maybe?" You can't help but feel a warmth spread through your chest as his hand brushes the hair away from your face. His cologne is strong and masculine, filling your nostrils with an addictive and sophisticated aroma.

Oh my God, stop it! You chastise yourself.

You sit up a bit, taking a sip of the tea and nibbling on the toast. The toast is warm and buttery, and the tea is soothing and calm. The warm brew soothes your throat and warms your insides, bringing a sense of calmness that you desperately need. 

James smiles back, "I'm glad to hear that. Would you like anything else? Some fruit maybe, or some more tea? I just want to make sure you're comfortable." 

"I’m good," you say, smiling awkwardly. "Thank you."

"Are you sure everything is alright, darling?" he asked, his eyes locked on yours. You felt your heart skip a beat at the nickname and of what he was going to ask. "Sure, of course," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. 

He raises a brow, unconvinced with your answer.

"Just some work-related stress." 

James's gaze was focused on you, his face a picture of concern. "Well, if you ever do need anything, I'm here for you," he assured you, his voice soft and comforting. 

“Thank you, Mr–”

“James...please. Call me James.”

"Thanks, James," you replied, a small smile crossing your face. "That ...means a lot." James smiled back, "Of course," he said. The sound of the ticking clock abruptly shattered the stillness of the room, causing you to gasp as you suddenly remembered the passing of time. "Shoot!" you exclaimed, frantically throwing the quilt aside and hastily placing the tea on the nearby tray. "I've got to go!" you added, your voice laced with urgency.

James stood up, bewildered by the sudden change in your behavior. “Why? Is something wrong?” he asked, worry clearly etched on his face. “It’s eleven! Why didn’t you wake me?” you exclaimed, eyes wide with shock as you began frantically running around the room. Scrambling to find your shoes, James watched with wide-eyed confusion, asking, “What’s going on? I’m so lost.”

"It's eleven! Everything is probably already closed now!" you said, desperation and panic evident in your voice as you searched for your shoes. Suddenly, you noticed that James was holding them, and you immediately let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank you so much." you said, taking them from him.

"Is Anders still here?" You asked as you hurriedly put your shoes on. The sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears, drowning out the sound of James taking a nervous step forward. “Uhm no, he usually leaves at ten,” James replied, his voice barely above a whisper. You sigh in defeat and throw yourself back on the bed. “Can I ask why?” he continued, taking another step closer, his eyes searching your face as you covered it with your hands. “I was going to ask him if he could give me a ride,” you answered, your voice muffled.

"I told Anders you could stay for the night." James stated, a slight edge to his voice as he backed up a step. You bolted upright, eyes widened in horror. "No!" you cried, your words tumbling out in a panicked rush. "No, no, no, no! I can't stay here. The others, they..." Your words trailed off, the image of their judgmental frowns dancing behind your closed eyelids, threatening to send you spiraling into a coma before you could even finish the thought.

Despite your protests, James stood firm, "You're staying here," he insisted, his tone brooking no argument. Taken aback by the suddenness of the force of his tone, you froze, your mind racing as you tried to guess at his intentions.

With a heavy sigh, James continued, his voice softer now as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Look, I understand that this isn't ideal. But I promise you, you're safe here.”

"I- I’m fine," you stutter out, your voice barely louder than a whisper at his words, at the sweetness of it at the concern stretched between his eyebrows. James' brows furrow in discontent as he takes in your words, and for a moment there is a tense silence between you. But he quickly recovers, and his expression becomes determined.

"Then at least let me drive you home."

You are struck dumb by these words, and you don't move for a moment as you try to process what is happening. But before you have a chance to respond, you have given James your arm and you watch as he leads you rapidly towards the door. He's not waiting for an answer, he's making a decision for both of you.

And less than five minutes later, you find yourself standing outside, feeling the cold air brush against your skin. The night is quiet, truly silent. You can’t even hear the sound of traffic with how far you are from the town. You look up at the sky and at the stars, how they’re sprinkled like splattered paint over a black canvas. The sound of an engine in the distance breaks your trance and you look down squinting your eyes at the bright light shining from the car’s headlights.

The sleek black car glides into the driveway, its exhaust leaving a faint smell of fuel in the air. You watch as James climbs out of the driver's seat and walks up to you. He has his hands placed under both your arms, steadying you as though he was afraid you would roll down the stairs without his support. You mentally scoff, you maybe a klutz but even you won’t embarrass yourself to that degree.

He walks you to the passenger side of the car and opens the door for you. Your gaze is pulled back to the car itself, and you can't help but marvel at its beauty - probably at the cost of your entire apartment building itself. James seems to notice your fascination, and he gives you a small smile.

“It’s cold.” He whispers and you snort as you bow your head, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you as you enter the car and close the door behind you. The car's interior is warm and comfortable, and you sink into the soft leather seats with a sigh of relief. James enters, sending you the most adorable welcoming of smiles, as he pulls away from the extravagant driveway. You watch the streetlights fly by through the window, getting a sense of disorientation as the world around you blurs.

"Are you ok?" James asks, breaking the silence. His voice is low and concerned, and you can hear the worry in his words. You ask that alot you want to say but opt for a nod instead, not trusting yourself to speak, and he reaches across the car to pat your leg reassuringly, giving you a gentle squeeze. It's a small gesture, but it makes you feel a little better. You sit in silence as James drives, the only noise coming from the hum of the engine and the occasional click of the turn signal. 

The tension between you is palpable, and you wonder what James is thinking. Is he as nervous as you are? Is he trying to work out what to say to you?

James seems to sense your unease, and he breaks the silence with a sudden question. "So... What really happened today?" he asks, his voice low and curious. STOP asking! You want to yell, but you can’t really do that when the man is driving you home. You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts.

"I don't know," you reply, your voice wavered. "I found out about something and I just…" James nods at your silence, as if he understands. "I can understand that," he says, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Sometimes life can be a little overwhelming, can't it?" 

You watch him through the reflection on the window and nod, feeling a sense of thankfulness towards him for not pushing. "Yes, it can be. Sometimes it feels like everything is just a little too much."

"I know what you mean," James says softly. "But you need to remember you're not alone. That there’s someone there, y’know. And if you ever feel overwhelmed you can come to me." You pull your head away from the window and face James with parted lips. His eyes seemed to be just as shocked as you are as he stared at you. He quickly faces the road once more and pulls in a deep breath. 

“Thank you.” You say into the silence. It's a small comfort, but in that moment, it means the world to you.

Half an hour later, you find yourself pointing towards a building in the distance. The street is quiet and lifeless, with only a few distant lights to break the darkness as James parks the car in front of the tall building. You're not sure what to say, how to express the feelings that are swirling inside you. 

"Come on," he says, "Let's get you inside." You want to object but the warmth from the touch of his hands is addicting. It has you leaning on him as he leads you towards the building. “Do you want me to help you up?” He asks and you stare at him with furrowed brows, parted lips and eyes heavy with sleep. You nod and James doesn’t even hesitate to have his arms wrapped around you as he helps you up each step, patient and alert as he guides you up the stairs and carries your weight.

However, he seems awkward now that you're outside the door to your apartment, it’s silent, and there’s no other sound than the rattling of your keys as you turn them and unlock the lock. “Wait here.” You say, and James blinks for a moment in confusion, tilting his head to the side before nodding, watching as you walk in and leave him outside. He’s nervous and sweaty, and he reeks of anxiety as he bounces his leg, rehearsing what he’s trying to say. When your door opens once more, you’re in a robe and holding a small transparent box of what looks like doughnuts.

“A thank you.” You say and James involuntarily smiles at the gift, shaking his head. “Can’t take it,”

“Why not?” You ask and there is a dopey smile on your face as you lean against the door frame. “Don’t deserve it.” He says and you snort, rolling your eyes and you push the box between his hands. “If you don’t take it, you’re practically insulting me and I don't think you can be mean to someone who was sick.”

“You passed out, out of stress and not illness.” He says grinning and you feel butterflies fluttering or biting in your stomach as he leans a hand on the door, so that his face is much closer to yours. “Same thing. Take the doughnuts, Potter, and say ‘thank you’. It’s not that hard.” You respond, taking a step closer and matching his smile. 

James takes your hand and places a gentle kiss on the back of it, “Thank you.” He says and you immediately feel all hot and fluttery. It’s like you're wearing hundreds of layers of clothes on the hottest day of the year.

“You’re welcome.” You breathe out and even though the conversation is over, you both still stand there like birds on a traffic stop waiting for the other to say or do something.

For a moment, the silence is awkward, and you're not sure of what action to take. But then, James breaks it.

His voice is low and somewhat unsure, his previous confidence as solid as water as he stands tall once more; but he still speaks clearly and directly. You subconsciously stand straight as well, feeling as though this conversation was going to be serious.

"... I've been thinking about you a lot lately. I don't know why, but for some reason, I just am"

You listen intently, trying to process what he's saying. He leans down, placing the treats you gave him gently on the ground and You have no idea what's coming next, but then he surprises you by taking your hand in his. Your eyes grow wide and you can’t help but feel dumb and speechless as you stare at your joined hands. James looks at you, his expression serious and determined but there is a nervousness hiding behind his glasses. He takes a deep breath and then asks, "Would you go out with me?...On a date that is."

You're taken aback by the suddenness of the question, but you find yourself nodding slowly. "I'd like that." You can see the relief and happiness spread across James' face, and he gives you a warm smile. "I was hoping you'd say yes. You’re off on Tuesday’s, right? Can I pick you up from here at 6?" He asks and you nod again, feeling a sense of warmth and giddiness spread throughout your body. “That sounds great.” 

As James takes another step towards you, you start to feel a mixture of excitement and unease. You want to be close to him, you do, you really do, but you also feel like you're on the edge of a cliff, like one wrong move could send everything tumbling down. The looks of your colleagues flash in front of you, and you involuntarily take a step back.

James senses your apprehension, and he stops in his tracks. He looks at you with a mixture of concern and understanding, as if he knows exactly what you're feeling.

"Is something wrong?" he asks gently.

You try to gather your thoughts. "I don't know," you say, your voice a screen to your worries. "I just feel... I don't know. Like this is all too much and…too fast, like I may not be ready for this type of thing." You're suddenly aware of your rushed agreement to his proposal, and the butterflies that were once in your stomach turn to poisonous snakes.

James nods, "That's ok," he says quietly. "We don't have to rush into anything. We can take it slow, if that's what you want."

For a moment, there is silence between the two of you, filled with a mixture of uncertainty and possibility. And then, before you know it, James is closing the distance between you once again, his fingers brushing against yours, his face just inches away from yours. You think that he might kiss you and you're not sure of what you’re feeling but you’re sure of the desire, the craving for his touch but at the same time the logical part of you is yelling for you to pull away to warn you that this was going to burn you in the end.

It's a moment that feels like an eternity and a heartbeat all at once, and just when you think you can't possibly bear it any longer, James leans in and kisses your forehead. It's a soft, gentle kiss, filled with a mixture of hesitance and care, and for a moment, the stress you’ve been carrying the whole day seems to melt away.

As he draws apart, you feel a sense of relief and happiness wash over you, like drinking chilled water after you've just finished a marathon. 

“Feel better, okay?”

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Tagging: @sssstarstruck @cloudroomblog @ietss @kquil @heraklees @loving-and-dreaming @enamoredofbella @astonishment @empath-bunny @white-wolf-buckaroo @in-tuned @orinatini @mariahossain @mo0n-water

[cassiepotter]

ceo!james x reader moodboard,,, 💫

[olivers-cocoapuffs]

Does anyone ever explain to Harry where all his family wealth came from? Or does he just not care?

[aithusarosekiller]

Jegulus high school vampire au but it's really funny bc Reg is the typical 'old-money, brooding, wears black 24/7' guy with two puncture scars on his neck so people always joke about him secretly being a vampire

Meanwhile his cute, clingy, friends with everybody, 'COLOUR MAKES ME HAPPY :D' bf James Potter is standing right next to him knowing that he -the actual vampire bf- literally drank his blood the night before

I'm getting ideas

Somebody stop me

Update: I'm gonna do it

[tomriddleslove]

Those Damn Thighs.

✩Marauders era Gryffindors x F!Reader

Summary: The one where a little too much to drink and too much time in the company of one Sirius Black means they’ve all lost their shame. Alternatively: Them thirsting over your thighs.

A/N: Marauders era obsession coming back? Yes.

There were merely 2 weeks left till the summer holidays were over and school resumed once more, and you can count the number of times you’ve revised on one hand.

Actually, on one finger.

Summer at the Potters seemed like an incredible idea, and you thought that it would be a fun way to liven up your otherwise mundane routine. In hindsight, you should have also recognised that a summer with all of your close friends meant it was near impossible to get anything done properly.

When the idea was first proposed, you pondered how on earth the Potters would manage to host Sirius, Remus, Peter, Marlene, Lily, Mary, and Yourself. However once you had arrived at the Potter manor you realise they could have easily hosted thrice your group.

It should have been no suprise to you that the Potters were filthy rich. Sure, James was a bit rough around the edges and rather boyish. One look at him, however, with his ridiculously expensive leather satchel that he never wears, or his beat up muggle trainers that he always wore despite having a pair of the finest leather shoes in his closet tells you that James Potter came from money.

Perhaps it was because James was so friendly, and oddly rather humble (at least when it came to money, for he had no shame in boasting about his quidditch victories or the girls he’s pulled), that you never really thought about it that much. You could only look on in envy, marvelling at their beautiful home whilst you think back to your rather small, dingy one.

The summer had truly been incredible. You’d sleep in, go out and play quidditch, head to town and pester the shopkeepers into providing you with treats at a reduced cost. You’d come back in the evening, and one by one clamber up to the attic which had been renovated into some sort of ‘hangout’ room, with a small charmed fireplace in the corner and a large persian rug. With the help of James, Lily had transfigured some old pillows into a few beanbags using Fleamont’s wand and the once dusty and bare room had turned into a haven for all of you to gather (and get drunk) in the evenings. Whilst the Potters were largely welcoming people and would put up with the antics that you all would get up to, they very clearly drew the line at drinking. It only took one day of probing from Sirius for James to cave and allow him to smuggle up bottles for the group to enjoy.

From then on, it had naturally become your nighttime routine. Whilst you had already been incredible close as a group, a few days of drinking together had bridged the somewhat awkward gap between the boys and the girls, with each respective group becoming more shameless in conversations and comfortable with one another.

That leads you to today, where you’re scoping out the hallways before sneaking over to the little alcove which had a hidden ladder to the side. You struggle a bit more as you climb up the ladder. You had recently gone out to town with Peter and Mary, and had settled on a pair of bootcut jeans that you saw passing by the shops on the higshtreet. They fit incredibly well, paired with the bell sleeves knitted top that you wore, you looked all the part of what Mary quoted to be “comfortable rockstar chic”. The only issue was that the jeans fit a little too well. Clinging to you tightly, they highlighted your thighs and the curve of your ass, making them look mouth-wateringly delicious. They were absolutely not suited for climbing ladders however, and you largely relied on your upper body strength to pull you up as you finally manage to get through to the attic.

“There she is.” Marlene jibes, and you roll your eyes with a grin as you brush yourself off and walk over to the group, flopping down next to Lily. Marlene is on the far side of the room, on one end of the fire place. She shares a beanbag with Mary, who’s splayed across the top as she stares off at the ceiling. On the beanbag next to her are you and Lily, and to your right is Peter. Remus is sitting cross legged next to Peter, with Sirius and James completing the horseshoe type arrangement on the other side of the fireplace. James is sitting on the floor and leaning his head against the beanbag, looking half asleep as Sirius props his elbows onto his knees, sitting up. You rest your head on Lily’s shoulder and the sweet girl hums lightly, a hand coming up to soothingly stroke your hair. The soft material of her forest green cardigan acts as a wonderfully effect pillow, and you’re fighting to keep your eyes open.

Everyone else was there bar Sirius, which you found odd as he seemed to be the very first person who was there, cracking open a bottle of whatever he managed to get his hands on.

You speak, voice lazy and subdued with the warmth from the fireplace and Lily’s gentle actions at the end of such a long day sending you towards an untimely slumber.

“Where’s Sirius?”

As if on cue, a head of curly black hair pops up at the entrance, pearly white canines peeking through the mischevious grin that tugs at his lips as he scrambles up. He joins the group, covered in an alarming amount of what seemed to be soot as he sits down next to James.

An almost comical cloud of smoke rises up into the air as he sits down and James splutters, shoving Sirius off the beanbag as he fans the soot away.

“Christ, did you go rolling around in the fireplace or something.” James coughs and Remus snorts, leaning back on one elbow.

“See, I took the floo to town because I wanted to grab us something a bit different. I was coming back when I just paused right at the top of your chimney. Had to shuffle my way down the damn thing and almost knocked Effie’s crystal egg off the mantle.” He murmurs, dusting some soot off his knee.

“James’ mum blocked the floo so James would stop being lazy. Sort of backfires sometimes and once he was stuck there for 5 hours because he was too scared to tell his mum.” Peter recalls, and James turns red as Marlene throws her head back, cackling.

“Peter…” James whines as the rest of the group dissolve into laughter, and you can’t help but let out a few giggles of your own, nudging Lily as you whisper into her ear.

“This is the same boy you have a raging crush on?” You taunt and she slaps your arm playfully, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Well, if you’ve soiled your pretty face so much have you at least gotten something good?” Mary quips, raising a brow. Sirius grins that cocky smile he so often wears as he produces an old green bottle, with red wax hardened around the edge.

“Now this, ladies and gentlemen, is the finest wine one can buy. Produced in 1890, this was produced and aged in the prevalent vineyards of Italy. It was hand sealed by a group of local farmers who harvest the grapes using-“ Sirius starts, but Remus snatches the bottle off him, inspecting the wax seal.

“Alright alright, enough waffling. Let’s have some:” Remus murmurs, trying to pick at the wax.

“Use your wand.” Sirius quips, and Remus looks at him with a deadpan expression.

“Oh, sorry Sirius. Has it not occurred to you that if we could use magic, we wouldn’t have to rely on you taking the floo to town to get some alcohol?” Remus remarks sarcastically. Sirius grumbles, the leather of his jacket squeaking as he crosses his arms.

“Does anyone have a pocket knife? It’s too firm.” Remus says, slapping the neck of the bottle against his palm. Mary hums, reaching into her pocket as she produces a pocket knife. You raise a brow at her as she tosses it over to Remus and she shrugs, her tone casual.

“You never know when you’ll need it.” She says, and Marlene nods in agreement. Remus has no luck with the bottle, passing it over to James. He stabs at the wax, making nothing but a dent. This doesn’t seem to deter him however, as he simply just continues doing the same thing over and over again.

“Boys,” You murmur to the girls with disdain, amusement lacing your tone, “Leave it to them to think bashing a knife into it will work.”

You all look up as they squabble over how to open the bottle, Sirius yanking it off James as he speaks.

“No, you have to twist it. That way the wax crumbles.” He says, trying to drive the knife into the stubborn wax. James shakes his head, pulling the bottle back.

“No, if you stab it you’ll crack the wax. Twisting it won’t do anything.” He argues back, and the boys bicker childishly. You roll your eyes, impatient and ever so slightly agitated as you push up off the bean bag, kneeling on the floor.

“Oh for merlin’s sake, give it here.” You snap, yanking the knife from Sirius and the Bottle from James.

You remain kneeling on the floor, resting your weight on the heels of your feet as you place the bottle between your thighs. You hold it there securely, flicking open the knife as you begin stripping away at the bottle from the side in long, slow movements. You angle the neck of the bottle towards James and Sirius, far too focused on getting the bottle open to notice the silence that’s fallen over the group.

After a few minutes of chipping away at the last of the wax, you jam the tip of the knife into the cork. Squeezing the bottle with your thighs slightly tighter, you pull it off with a perfect pop as a grin of satisfaction graces your face. You look up, and your smile falters slightly as you see Sirius dark gaze trained on you, completely silent. James shifts in his seat, mouth parted slightly as he gazes down at the bottle nestled tightly between your thighs.

“What?” You laugh, and Remus coughs as he tears his gaze away from you, tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip before he speaks.

“Nothing. Pass it here.” He says, voice oddly strained.

“That was the hottest fucking thing i’ve ever seen.” Marlene blurts, breaking the silence as a laugh bubbles out of you. Mary nods eagerly in agreement.

“Gods you’re all shameless. We’ve been spending too much time with Sirius.” You joke, and the afformentioned frowns, a sad little “hey” escaping his lips as Peter chuckles, nodding in agreement.

Now it’s Lily’s turn to nudge you, murmuring as the rest of the group chat about Marlene’s blunt (but honest) statement.

“She was right though. I don’t know how you managed to make that look sexy but everyone was staring at you. Especially…” She trails off, nudging you, and you grin with a small bashful smile. You’re about to probe further when a disgusted splutter catches your attention. Remus wipes his chin, grimacing as he looks down at the bottle.

“Pads, this tastes like absolute shite.”

[vantaesfairie]

𝔭𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔞 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔡 : 𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔫𝔢𝔵𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯

atlty’s tarot readings: art commissions, paid readings, spell ritual comms open!

choose a pile below:

part 1 of my christmas series!!!!

pile 1, reindeer friends with a cute snoot:

wow they could be quite rich! they could be from old money or enjoy spending daddy's / mommy's money.

they could be continuing a family's inheritance or legacy in their area of study or work.

they could enjoy nature or watch things grow.

they definitely put in long term strategies. they are probably good in investing money.

they have pretty good foresight. they could play a role of 'caregiver' a bit, like they will spoil you materially.

they could have a small waist regardless of gender, and tall.

they are a good negotiator and likes to make you smile.

they are someone who takes care of you deeply and wants to watch you prosper.

they want to steer you away from your bad troubles and only towards good days. they want to take away your pain.

you may meet them at a time of prosperous growth or when your life seems to be taking a turn to the next chapter.

pile 2, black cat in christmas lights:

they have a very strong energy, they could be a fire sign or enjoy gaming or group sports.

they are very assertive and tend to be more masculine.

they motivate others and you, and would literally fight off people to protect you.

they could feel challenged a lot, they may have trouble with their self worth, esteem, and ego.

they want to win arguments, they want you as their prize.

they could be blunt but quite persuasive. they could be good with words to make you happy or seduce you.

they would love to debate or banter playfully with you.

they could play sports that involve a stick, like hockey or polo.

they are very ambitious in their work with clear direction of where they want to go and achieve but lack proper emotional development.

they may need you to keep them in their lane sometimes with their bad days, but they would be so passionate with you.

pile 3, stag (james potter? should i start a hogwarts pac?):

they could be more soft and introverted than the rest of the piles here. they could have sadder eyes (in your opinion).

they could hurt people without knowing and suffer hollow victories.

they want to treat you like their forever lover with everything that they give you. they want you to glow and be a rainbow in their life.

they would be very attracted to you, you would be their type.

they could be blunt with words which they regret immediately after.

they see you as someone who can help heal them so they may come to you for comfort.

they could feel like an outcast in their peer crowds easily.

they run out of emotional energy quite quickly so you would help give them spiritual energy like a charger.

they would learn many emotional lessons from you. they never want to hurt you.

they could be avoidant when you two fight because of their nature to hurt people easily, but they want to always cherish you.

i hope you enjoyed this pac! please consider purchasing a paid reading by sliding into my dms. reblog and share if possible! i’d love to know if this resonates to you. thank you so much!

[radiohead-spiderman]

Sirius and James were not the same type of rich, I see this a lot, and a lot of people think that it’s canon, which is just, incorrect. James came from new money, Sirius came from old money.

Fleamont Potter’s business heavily, HEAVILY contributed to James’ wealth, sure Harry by our terms and by wizard terms inherited a LOT, absolutely, but from what we know from canon it’s incomparable to the Blacks fortune, it’s like comparing Draco’s and Harry’s wealth at the start of the series, you can’t.

Another thing to add is that the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black has that name for a reason, now sure, just because they’re known doesn’t mean they’re rich but we can quite confidently say they were, if you wanted to argue for the Potters’ being wealthier, you could I guess say that at the time the Blacks were a declining old money family, but they were still incredibly, INCREDIBLY wealthy.

We don’t know for certain how rich they were, or if they were richer than the Malfoys but because of how money works, old money specifically, we can say that at some point in the last few centuries(pre 1980) that they were as rich, or even richer than the Malfoys, however they weren’t as rich as them when it reached the 80’s. We can also guess they had the same amount of money or one of them had more, because Narcissa married Lucius so theoretically, Narcissa would have to be on the same level as Lucius in terms of wealth and vice versa.

Another thing we can use to calculate their wealth is their past history with house elves, from what we know from Ronald Weasley in Chamber of Secrets, a wizard/witch has to be “rolling in dough” to have a house elf, we can then look at the wall of dead house elves heads that the family had, and can make assumptions from there.

So, with all this information, we don’t have an exact amount, but, we know that even if they weren’t as wealthy as we paint them they were still known, and their opinions were highly regarded by an astounding amount, but then again, they were still insanely rich, and in terms of wealth and fame, leagues above the Potters.

The Potters were extremely wealthy, but the Blacks were loaded.

Anyways that’s the end of my Ted talk.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Santa Baby

Christmas Special

dad!James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: James wants to make his family's Christmas special.

Genre: Fluff <3

Warnings: pure happiness, implied sexual relationship

i have had this in the drafts for so long but i wanted to wait until Christmas 😩🎄

James's family was never one for decorating for Christmas. Or rather, decorate in ways younger James dreamed of. He knew his parents loved him dearly, but while money could buy many things, it could never buy him the time with his parents he so desperately craved.

Often, he would spend Christmas alone with the housekeepers and although he'd pretend he didn't mind so he wouldn't disappoint his parents, or hurt his housekeepers' feelings, when he lay alone in his room he couldn't help but feel lonely. 

So, considering this was James's very first Christmas with you and your one-year-old son, you knew he was overly determined to make this evening special. 

You wake to a loud crash coming from the kitchen, accompanied by an even louder hiss of pain and curses, as well as a shrill scream of a baby. You sit up abruptly, fear washing over you until you hear James shout from downstairs. "Ah, shit, fuck, shhh, I got it, baby! Stay in bed, please!" Another crash is accompanied by the sound of footsteps rushing up the stairs and a small smile curls at your lips.

You don't listen to your husband as you pull yourself away from the warmth of your covers and make your way downstairs. It smells like burnt cinnamon cookies when you enter the kitchen and your eyes round. An array of pots and utensils, in various degrees of cleanliness, are scattered across the counters. Your frown deepens as you feel overwhelmed by the mess. 

"Darling?" James's voice pops the bubble in your mind and you look at him. He's standing in the doorway with Henry, your son, sitting on his hip. His messy curls are messier than usual and the brown is sprinkled with white specks of flour to match the patch on his cheek. He sends you a weary smile. 

"What happened?" you ask, looking at the faint tears in your son's little eyes from being woken up much too early. His small hands have found home in James's messy hair and he's smiling now, happy to be in his father's arms. When you walk over and scoop Henry into your arms, he makes a small sound of disapproval but nuzzles into you anyway. James looks a little guilty.

Holding Henry with one arm under him, you move closer to your husband and swipe your other hand over the dust of flour on James's nose. "You're a mess, honey," you say, hiding a small smile with a playfully annoyed frown.

James clasp his hands together to remove the flour and then runs a hand in his hair. "I didn't mean to wake you or Henry," he says solemnly and looks around at the mess. "I wanted to surprise you with some Christmas cookies."

You laugh. "Well, I'm certainly surprised – just with a lack of cookies," you joke.

Hearing your laughter, Henry giggles and squirms as his hands find themselves at the ends of your hair and he pulls happily. "Oww," you groan, tilting your head in the direction he's pulling so the pain will hurt less. James moves in closer and gently unclasps Henry's little fists around your hair.

"No, bud. It hurts Mummy when you do that," he coos and holds Henry's hands instead.

You pass him to James, going to fix your hair. "Thanks," you sigh. 

James smiles and holds Henry, mouthing and mumbling things as he tickles his son’s sides. "Do you think I should put him back to bed? It's only 7am," James asks in a baby-voice and he follows you around the kitchen as you access the mess. 

You turn to him and tickle Henry's stomach, which earns you a little squirm and giggle. "If you think Henry is going back to sleep after this, you're mistaken." 

James nods and then brings Henry to his high-chair and sets him down. After a kiss on the forehead, James turns around and Henry reaches for the wand in his back pocket of his jeans. As he holds it in his hand, you leap up and take your husband's wand from your son and throw it to James.

"You have to be more careful with this, Henry could hurt himself," you reprimand as James sheepishly twirls his wand around his finger. 

"I'm sorry," he says and then raises his wand and mutters as a spell that makes the clutter float around the room and clean themselves until the kitchen is sparkly clean. You walk over to him, sliding a hand up his bare arm and press a kiss to his cheek.

"Come on," You whisper with a smile and pat his arm, "Henry must be hungry, I'll get him some applesauce and you can start those cookies again, hmm?"

* * *

Once the evening rolls around, James seems to have calmed down a little. His nerves don't seem as on high-alert as he adjusts his hair in the mirror and you smile at how happy his reflection looks. You stand, adjusting the reindeer antlers on your head and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You press your nose to his back and inhale. "You smell like Christmas," you smirk, catching his eye in the reflection, "New cologne?"

James touches your hands and turns around to twirl you. Your green dress swirls and he grins at your wide smile. "Mmhmh, you look stunning," he whispers, pulling you in and kissing your cheek. You giggle.

You hear the doorbell and James's eyes light up like a child. "They're here!" he exclaims and with quick nervous movements he positions your antlers to his liking and kisses your forehead. "Go say hi and I'll wake Henry from his nap."

You laugh at his antics, calling after him as he scrambles to your son's room. "Hurry!"

When you make your way downstairs and open the door, Remus and Sirius stand in front of the others. Remus is dressed in the ugliest Christmas sweater and Sirius, who hangs on his arm, has a matching one. Equally as ugly on him and they look adorably stupid. Sirius seems ecstatic to see you as he is practically jumping up and down with excitement. 

"Where is he?"

Clearly, his excitement is for someone else. You open the door a little wider. "James? Oh - he's upstairs with – "

Suddenly, Sirius brushes past you and opens his arm wide as he sees your husband and son. Henry is rubbing his eyes sleepily but he's dressed in his reindeer costume, the soft headband fit around his ears and James had drawn on a little reindeer nose with some of your cherry-blast lipstick. Sirius happily crushes them both in a hug as he exclaims, "There's my boy!" 

You're not sure if he means James or Henry, but you aren't even sure Sirius knows the answer to that as he pokes Henry's little red nose and tousles James's hair, just below his own pair of Christmas antlers. The ones that match yours. "Look at you and your little deer-ling family," Sirius smirks, happy with his pun. 

Remus touches your arm and, returning into the world of adults, you turn and he leans down to kiss your cheeks. "You look well, Moony," You say, searching his face for any scars you haven't seen but find none. 

Remus just smiles timidly. "Sirius has been taking excellent care of me," he assures you with a smile and you can tell the smile is meant for himself instead of you. "Seems like Jamie has been doing the same?" Remus teases as he looks behind you at your husbands. 

You look at them too. James and Sirius are cooing at Henry, and the latter is laughing happily as Sirius tickles under his fuzzy-sock covered feet. You grin, nodding. "Oh yeah, we've all been well. Jamie was so antsy for your arrival, he woke us up at 7am to bake cookies." you laugh. 

James pipes up, "Objection your honor. Those cookies were for you and Henry, no one else," he insists and you can hear the pout in his voice.

"Well, those cookies were non-existent but we did make some other ones for everyone. I bet Henry would want to show you all inside, hmm?" You hum, watching Henry's look of excitement at the mention of cookies. 

James puts Henry down on the floor, holding up his hands, and passes him to Sirius, "Here bud, why don't you and Uncle Sirius find the cookies in the kitchen, ok?"

Henry seems more than happy to have Sirius walk with him to the kitchen, and judging by Sirius's wide grin, he doesn't seem to mind spending time with Henry either. James pats Henry's head one last time before Henry and Sirius disappear towards the kitchens.

James walks over and hugs Remus hello, his arm then twisting around my waist as he stares into my side and looks at me, "Isn't my lovely wife just so pretty with her little antlers?" James flicks one and you laugh.

"She's lovely, Prongs. Your entire family is," Remus compliments. 

James stands prouder and kisses your temple. Then, he looks at Remus, "Are you and Sirius thinking about kids yet?"

Remus rolls his eyes. "Ask Sirius, he's still a child himself."

You put your hand on Remus's arm comfortantly. "Give him time, Remmy. I promise he'll be ready sooner than you think and when he is, I know Henry will be over the moon to have a playmate!"

"Henry will have a playmate way sooner than when those two dimwits finally decide to have kids, my lovely," James suddenly whispers into your ear and adds with a wink, "If you know what I mean." You feel heat creep up your cheeks. 

Remus doesn't catch on as he hears Sirius laugh from the living room and you lead him and James into the room, where Sirius has found the plate of cookies and Henry sits happily on his lap, munching on a cookie comically large compared to his small hand.

The living room is decorated with hollies, christmas lights, and you're burning a candle so it smells like cinnamon and vanilla. A small mistletoe hangs in the corner of the room: mostly for decoration but James has pulled you under it a few times. Which, no matter how many times you tell him that's not how a mistletoe works, he still pressed his lips to yours with a love sick smile.

 "Mummy," Henry shrieks upon seeing you and the little antlers on his head slip over his eyes. 

Sirius bounces him on his knee, adjusting the antlers, which makes Henry laugh but he still holds out his arms for you as the cookie in his hand falls to the floor near Sirius's shoe. Sirius looks at the mess and pouts, "Whoopsies, here ya' go Harry." You smile at the nickname and walk over, taking Henry from Sirius's knee and into your arms. 

Sirius dusts crumbs from his pants as he stands next to you. He runs a thumb under Henry's lip to catch a crumb, and then Henry hides his face in the crook of your neck. His nose rubs near your collarbone and you laugh at the sensation and smooth a hand down Henry's back.

"I don't know how you do it, Y/n/n," Sirius says with a smile, his eyes trained on Henry.

You look at him, a low laugh threatening to escape your throat. "I have help," you say and look behind you as James and Remus chat near the fire. 

Sirius rolls his eyes and puts his hand on your shoulder and leans in to whisper in your ear, "Help dressing up your baby like a forest animal maybe," Sirius jokes and you pretend to cover Henry's little reindeer ears that come with his antlers. Sirius chuckles at the gesture and quickly kisses your cheek before joining Remus and James. 

Another hour passes as guests multiply and cookies turn into dinner, and then the low hum of Christmas music plays in the background as bowls of pudding sit on the table counter. Marlene and Lily play with Henry on the couch and people chat, only slightly buzzed from the champagne.

One of James's arms is wrapped around your waist, his other hand holding yours up as he holds you close. You giggle as he twirls you around and when you come back into his chest, he leans in head against your shoulder and you let out a breathy, "It's late, James. I should put Henry to bed." 

James frowns and makes a small tuts sound as he kisses your collarbone where a lipstick stain remains from Henry's nose. "I'll put him to bed later, darlin'. Don't you worry. Just focus on having fun with our friends. Plus," James spins your bodies around so his back is to the couch. You can see Henry is grinning happily as Lily plays peek-a-boo with him. "Henry looks fine."

You hide a smile and whisper as you hold James, "His little eyes are droopy, Jamie."

James pouts and pulls you in closer. "Just a little longer? I feel like I haven't seen you all day."

"You have seen me all day," you kiss his cheek, which James gingerly turns into a full kiss as he angles your head. You laugh and wrap your arms around his shoulder as his hands slide down your sides to hold your ass. 

"Not in the way I want," he whispers gruffly and you pull away and slap his chest.

"We're in public!" you hiss with a smile. 

"Unfortunately." 

"This party was your idea," you stare into his eyes as James's hands move to the small of your back and he grins.

"I have really stupid ideas sometimes," he admits and kisses you quickly. It's not long enough to warrant attention from your friends, but just enough to leave you craving more. Your head follows him as he leans away and he smirks. James turns to your friends and says, "Alright, where's my little reindeer?" 

Gently you take your husband's arm before he can fully finish his sentence and move away from you. You pull him back and whisper in his ear, "If you get them out of here quickly, I'll let you fill my stocking once Henry is asleep," your voice is smooth and it sends a shiver up James's spine as you wink. 

The blush on his cheek remains crimson when he claps his hand, getting everyone's attention. "Okay," he strides over, looking for Henry as Henry's small form is hidden behind Lily again. "Someone find me my son so he can be put to bed or I swear," he says in a mutter and you can't help but laugh.

[jamesandthedog]

"She's cute, right?" James asks.

He's staring across the room.

Sirius moves his knight on the chess board and follows James' gaze. He laughs when he sees the red-head Lily Evans chatting with her friends on the other side of their common room.

"What?" James asks.

Sirius glances at him.

They're thirteen and it's the first time James really talks about girls. And even if girls and dates and kisses are new and not particularly something Sirius is interested in, he knows the rules. He was taught before he even understood what dating a girl meant.

"She's a Muggleborn," Sirius shrugs as he states the obvious.

"So?"

There's defiance in James voice, it reminds Sirius of the times he used to refer the likes of Lily Evans with much worse vocabulary. It was James and their friends to make him change his ways.

Sirius sighs.

"It's fine by me," he says, honestly. "But I doubt your parents would approve."

James frowns. At first Sirius thinks he's acknowledged the problem and trying to come up with a way to pursuit his crush without his parents ever finding out. And really, how could they, James doesn't have cousins to tell on him.

But it's not that. James looks at him the way he does when he's trying to read deep into his mind. Like James did when they had their first discussions about blood supremacy. Or when Sirius was walking funny after last summer break. He had hurt his back falling down the stairs after an argument with his mother, but that wasn't the sort of thing to discuss with... Anyone really.

James' expression clears, he leans back and makes his move on the chess board.

"Your parents want you to marry a pureblood," James states.

Sirius shrugs.

"Of course. Yours don't?"

"Dad would probably prefer if I'd marry a Muggleborn. She could teach him how to use the Muggle box he bought for warming up food," James says.

Sirius stares at him, and it has nothing to do with the said Muggle device. He'd look more surprised, but he learned to hide his feelings years ago.

He knows James' family thinks Muggleborns can do anything a pureblood can. But it's one thing to treat people equally on the streets, another to break something as holy as the pure bloodline.

Sirius had thought marrying a pureblood was given, a duty, a fact, something every pureblood did. But here he is, looking at the heir of the Potter family - an heir who clearly doesn't follow any of the rules Sirius had been taught since the day he was born.

As Sirius looks at James, he realises it looks like freedom. Not that Sirius even really cares about girls and marriage, but for the first time he sees that James truly has everything. Money, brains, parents who send him sweets and chocolate even when he doesn't ask for it. But more than that, James has options. He can choose his future.

"Are you ok?" James asks bringing Sirius back from his thoughts.

"Yeah." He answers before focusing on the chess board again. "But if I have to marry someone like Carrow and you get to choose, the least you can do is to lose the game!"

His knight eats James' horse.

"Hey, it's not that bad." James says comfortingly and moves his queen out of the way. Then he grins and Sirius knows he's up to no good.

"You can choose too. If you don't want Carrow you can always take one of your cousins," James suggests as sincerely as a mischievous pre-teen can.

The sofa cushion hits James before he has time to dodge, and then the chess pieces fly around as Sirius reaches over the sofa table to James.

When Remus Lupin descends to the Gryffindor common room a few minutes later, his two friends are a messy, wrestling and laughing pile of loosened ties and wrinkled ropes on the floor.

He shakes his head and sits on the sofa after removing a few misplaced chess pieces. He takes a fat book out of his bag and continues his day as if two wrestling thirteen-year-olds in his feet were nothing but an ordinary day.

As he reads Sirius launches from the floor to find a safe haven next to him - James knows better than to bother his reading. When the long haired boy leans his head against Remus' shoulder and shows his tongue at James, something extraordinary happens. Nobody notices, but the corners of Remus Lupin's lips turn into a smile behind his book.

Sirius Black has many things to learn and unlearn during his Hogwarts years. And dating girls - or not dating them - is definitely one of those.

[ninety-two-bees]

happy birthday, james potter

jegulus microfic | 861 words | age gap + parenting au

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Regulus has never baked a cake before, and he’s not sure why he believed today would be the perfect day to learn. There are already a handful of failed attempts scattered across James’ kitchen. Some of them are…edible, but none of them are perfect. James deserves perfect on his birthday.

Technically Regulus isn’t supposed to be here at all. He’s supposed to be in class while James is at the museum with Harry, but taking one day off to treat his boyfriend on his birthday can’t do any harm, right? The countertops are almost entirely hidden by spilled ingredients and empty packages, but he finds space and perches on the counter with a mixing bowl in his arms.

The last batter was too thick, and this one seems suspiciously too runny, but he has no idea how to fix it. He even went as far as to call Barty and Evan, then Remus and Sirius—all of whom were entirely unhelpful. And now James’ kitchen is a mess.

Before he has a chance to put the next batch of cake mix in the oven, or even think about cleaning up, he hears the front door open and freezes in place. James is home.

Harry makes it to the kitchen first, walking right up to where Regulus is sitting and staring up with that wide bug-eyed stare Regulus has gotten so used to in the past year.

“Hi, buddy. Where’s your dad?” he asks, climbing off the countertop and swapping the mixing bowl out to pick Harry up instead. When Harry points over Regulus’ shoulder, he freezes up all over again.

“Please don’t be mad,” he begs softly, not daring to turn around to face James. His boyfriend has never been angry with him before, but there’s a first time for everything, right? And knowing Regulus’ luck, he has probably ruined James’ entire birthday.

James doesn’t say anything, but only a moment passes before Regulus feels familiar arms around his waist and a comforting chest against his back. He leans into James’ embrace instantly, struggling to fight off a smile as Harry wraps his arms around him too. This is his favourite place to be—in the arms of his family.

“Why would I be mad, baby?” James mumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of Regulus’ head. “You made cake!”

“I made a mess,” Regulus points out with a soft laugh.

One of the agreements within their relationship is that Regulus isn’t allowed to spend money on James until he finishes his degree and goes back to working full-time. It’s done wonders for the health of the bond between them, but Regulus still wanted to offer James something as a gift.

“Harry has made worse messes with much less time. We can clean it up together,” James insists. He lets go of Regulus as Regulus lowers Harry to the ground, and the two of them—three, if he counts Harry “helping”—make quick work of the baking disaster.

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Hours pass, all of which Regulus spends no more than a few feet away from James. They decorate the house together for his birthday, drop Harry off with his grandparents for the night, and kill the last bit of time before the party breaking in James’ new mattress.

“You really are getting old, you know.” Regulus has taken to straddling James’ lap on the living room couch despite the dozens of party guests around them. No matter how popular James is, Regulus knows he will always be at the centre of his boyfriend’s world. It’s as if the rest of the party doesn’t exist.

“I’m still a couple of years off forty! I’ve still got some youth left in me,” James argues. “And in fifteen years, when you’re this age, you’ll be saying the exact same thing.”

With laughter spilling from his lips, Regulus drops his head onto James’ chest, allowing James to wrap his arms around him in a warm embrace. If anyone is judging them for the blatant PDA, they don’t say anything

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to give you anything for your birthday,” he mumbles against James’ neck, eyes fluttering shut as James’ fingers trail up and down the length of his spine.

They had to throw out all of the cakes Regulus attempted to make, and ended up buying one at the nearest supermarket instead. James had insisted that it’s the thought that counts, but Regulus still wishes he had done more.

“There is…one thing you could give me, but it’s entirely up to you.” Regulus lifts his head again, gazing at James with intense curiosity. “Move in with me.”

A moment passes between them, and Regulus is certain his heart beats twice as fast as it ever has before.

“You really mean it?” he whispers, voice laced with trembling disbelief.

“I really mean it,” James promises.

Another moment passes. And then; “Absolutely. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

One of James’ hands comes up to hold the back of Regulus’ head, and then they’re kissing. It must look as intense as it feels, because someone whistles and a few people laugh just before they pull apart, breathless.

“Happy birthday, Jamie.”

this microfic is based on james and regulus in be good to me (i beg of him) because i missed them <3

[milunalupin]

— tale as old as time

a/n: welcome to my beast!remus x beauty!reader series ! i hope you come along this journey with me and enjoy!

chapter one

remus lupin x reader ★ 1.4k words

Gowns and music filled the ballroom, the castle's servants walking around with silver trays of the most luxurious desserts in France. Beautiful and wealthy people danced around to the sound of the piano and the most famous opera singer money could buy in all of Europe.   

The ballroom was decked out in glimmering jewels and fresh flora, the smell of roses strong in the air.  In the middle was Prince Remus Lupin, twirling countless girls about, a smirk on his handsome powdered face.  The Lupins ruled the Alsace region, their wealth apparent by their acres of meticulously landscaped property, the glimmer of the sun on the enormous castle blinding. Remus was an only child who was raised by King Lyall and Queen Hope, until the queen passed away from an illness many years ago, leading the Prince to grow up with the influence of his cold and selfish father.

Staff members were forced to turn a blind eye when they would see the young master walk through the castle with watery eyes or badly hidden bruises. No matter how much they pitied him, his father would rid them of their job in a heartbeat if they dared speak up about it. With every passing year, Prince Remus grew to be increasingly more his father, prioritizing status over everything.  Remus' life was filled with anything he wanted, and obviously once you have everything, things get boring. So, he constantly hosted balls and invited only the most beautiful and influential people in France. Men and women came from all over the country dressed in the most lavish of outfits, trying to gain the attention of the young Prince. 

In a silky yellow tailcoat stood the royal family's head of kitchen staff, Sirius Black. He let out an exaggerated sigh as he stood along his colleagues, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew.  "How many girls will leave crying tonight, do you think?" 

James, dressed in all white with embroidered lapels, rolled his eyes and frowned as he watched the Prince.  "He'll never get married if he keeps acting like this, never form a true bond with anyone." 

A huff came from Peter, who looked the worst out of the three of them (according to Sirius), in a simple brown waistcoat. He held his prized pocket watch in his hand, constantly checking the time to ensure the party was running smoothly.  "The prince's love life isn't really any of our business, Sirius." 

Peter Pettigrew, to say the least, was a suck up, and nothing but loyal to the royal family. It was in his blood; his family having served the royal family for decades. Naturally, he started working under his father in the administrative department and moving ranks until he was appointed head of house, managing the rest of the staff as His Highness' right-hand man. 

James Potter credits everything he has now to his beautiful mother, Euphemia, who was an incredible seamstress who worked in the castle years prior. Now, James assists the young master with his clothing as well as leads the housekeeping staff with his mini assistant Harry, who's favorite thing to do is fold the towels into swans. 

Sirius met James when they worked together at a pub in town before James accepted his position among the royal staff. He was an orphan who had run away from his abusive foster parents. Euphemia felt for the boy and had immediately taken them in like her own son. Cooking meals with his new family ignited his love for food and with help from the Potters, had gone to culinary school. Later, with James's help, began as a waiter at the castle turned kitchen manager. 

Prince Remus, to be frank, doesn't love, not really once his mother had passed. Once under the orders of his father, his image, and the people he surrounded himself with became a priority. Being human was being vulnerable, and being vulnerable was being weak. That's why he found himself surrounded by attractive women, knowing that each one hanging onto his arm believed that they would be the one he fell in love with, inheriting his fortune and power. His arm was around one of the maidens' waists, loosely spinning her as his eyes scanned the room for someone more interesting. 

"My lord, I can't help but believe you might have an interest in me. this is the second time we've danced tonight; you need not be so shy." 

His eyes dropped back to Amelie? Emily? who blushed under his gaze, looking up at him through her fluttering eyelashes. He scoffed and retracted his hand from her waist, pushing past her towards another, ignoring her pleas and attempts to grab his arm. As much fun as he had being the center of attention and being the one everyone wanted to be with, he despised the desperate ones, none of them being worth his actual time. 

-

"Papa, I brought the napkins you asked for!" 

Sirius, James, and Peter turned to find Harry, James's son, holding a stack of cloth napkins up to him with a bright smile, his glasses sliding down his nose. James grinned as he took the napkins from Harry, pushing his glasses back up his nose and fixing his hair. 

"Great job Harry, now run along." 

"You've got him working already Potter? A chip off the old block, that one is." Peter chuckled, smiling along his colleagues as they watched little Harry skip away. 

The doors suddenly burst open, a woman in a cloak falling to the ground, her hood slipping and exposing her ratty grey hair. The maidens closest to the door gasped and squealed as they backed up, trying to distance themselves from the old woman. The music has stopped, Prince Remus weaving his way through the crowd to stand before the elderly intruder. 

"Who let you in, peasant? This ball is invite only." 

The woman looked up, her cloudy grey eyes looking into the Prince's. She held up a single rose, offering him the flower for temporary shelter from the cold. Prince Remus scoffed, rolling his eyes at the woman. The party goers laughed at the old woman from the other side of the ballroom. 

A smirk appeared on the old woman's face, as her body under the cloak began to glow a warm yellow, what seemed liked enchanted haze spreading towards the aghast party goers. Flower petals began to float around the woman as she transformed into a younger, more beautiful version of herself, her now bright blue eyes staring into the Prince's. The guests screamed at they scrambled to escape the sorcery they've witnessed, polished shoes trampling over expensive fabric and rose petals. 

The royal staff looked on in fear, not knowing how to help their master in this situation. James weaved through the people rushing out and found Harry hiding in a corner. He picked him up and turned to head out the door but stopped when he heard a deep growl coming from the center of the room. 

The cloud of magic enveloped Prince Remus, his bones cracking and expanding as his body slowly transformed him into a large, furry monster. His perfect silk robes tearing and falling off the Prince's new body. Large curved horns grew out of his head, and his perfect teeth evolved into sharp fangs. His once perfect appearance turned into one of a menacing animal. 

The young Prince had failed his test from the enchantress. He had not shown kindness to a stranger in need and had confirmed his own selfishness and entitlement. He was mean and ugly on the inside, so she had turned him into who he really was, a beast. Adding on to that, she left a powerful spell on the castle and villagers, turning the royal staff into household objects for allowing the Prince's behavior, and erasing all memory of the royal castle and its inhabitants from the villagers. The curse was infinite, unless the prince managed to make someone fall in love with him. 

Over the years the castle grew colder, lonelier as Remus and his staff became more hopeless for a chance to end the curse. Snow had fallen over the crumbling castle and grounds, the bitterness of the cold outside matching what Remus was feeling in his heart. 

 He was doomed, turned into a disgusting monster for the rest of his days, because who could ever learn to love a beast? 

[yrluvjane]

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒅

[old money] James x fem!reader

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

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My name is also James,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Anders?” 

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

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

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

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

“I’ll call Jackson today—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“James?”

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

James laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Potter Estate was the definition of over the top. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

《 NEXT PART 》

Tagging: @sssstarstruck @cloudroomblog @ietss

[petals2fish]

I’m 32 years old. I’ve got no money and no prospects, but I do have 18 years of being a marauders fan gathered up here in my hippocampus. I have been here since the very beginning. I was there when the fandom was turned upside down by the Snape’s Worst Memory chapter. I was in the trenches during the snily wars when The Princes Tale chapter was published. I have watched this fandom grow and diversify in the best ways possible. However, I am here today to promise you that James Potter didn’t have eyes for anyone but Lily Evans his entire life. He would do anything for her. He loved and believed in her so much that he died for her, for the product of their love. There are 4100 pages that you can get this information from. Thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

[ellecdc]

The Drink Snob (part 2)

Mafia AU!Remus Lupin x fem!reader - 4.5k

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4

CW: Brief description of blood, mention of crimes, past kidnapping, family dynamics, mention past death of a parent, pressure from friends to date, use of Y/N

Remus tried to ignore the snickering coming from the two men at the kitchen table as he scrubbed the blood from his hands, using the brush to get under his nails. 

“It’s not even that funny in theory, it’s just that it’s so un-Moony like that makes it funny.” James giggled, actually giggled, like a schoolgirl. Remus could kill him. 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Lily’s voice, authoritative and deep compared to James’ snickering, jumped in. “You’re telling me the plan was almost foiled because Remus got distracted flirting with a girl at the bar?” 

“Not only was the plan nearly foiled, Red,” Sirius offered between fits of laughter, “the dumb bloke nearly died.”

“I didn’t nearly die.” Remus spat under his breath. 

“His drink was spiked whilst he was busy ogling the bird – she had to stop him from taking a swig!” James completed, howling in laughter. 

Lily brought her hand up to her mouth in an ill attempt to hide her amusement as she turned her gaze to the guilty man. “Oh, Remus.” 

“We caught the bastard, didn’t we?” He barked, swatting James and Sirius on the back of their heads as he took a place at the kitchen table beside Harry. “Besides, James, you’re not supposed to refer to women as birds.” Remus enunciated, causing James to wince as he correctly presumed the whack of a tea towel was headed his way from his wife.

“Right you are, Remus. This is why you’re my favourite.” She said, winking at him. The other two men scoffed in mock outrage.

“But he almost blew the whole stake out!” James cried at the same time as Sirius countered with “I nearly blow all our missions because of my flirting, why am I not your favourite?” 

Lily rolled her eyes as a third voice popped up.

“You’re no one’s favourite Sirius, I can’t believe you still haven’t figured that out.” Regulus muttered as he placed a kiss to Lily’s head before moving to the table to place a matching one on James and Harry’s. 

Sirius scoffed, “and no kiss either. I see how it is.” He said as he crossed his arms. 

“Awe, Pads! If you wanted kisses, you only had to ask!” James hollered as he threw himself at his best friend and left loud, smacking kisses across his face.

“Ew! Get off of me! This is like incest!” Sirius screeched. 

Regulus rolled his eyes and turned to Remus. “Wanting a kiss from his actual brother is fine but his friend giving him a kiss is incest?”

“Stop trying to figure Sirius out, Reg, there’s no logic.” Remus countered with a smile. 

Remus was glad, really, that life turned out the way it had for him. He wasn’t always, mind you; having been thrown into the world of underground crime at an early age after his father, with hopes for a political career, accidentally offended a well-known crime lord in Southern UK. In retaliation, Remus had been abducted and initiated into their mob at only twelve years old and was only reunited with his father and mother at fifteen once his dad had turned to crime after the police claimed there was ‘nothing they could do’ to bring their son back home. 

Then, when he was 17, he met James and Sirius. They both came from money, and both had very different experiences as a result. James was somewhat spoilt but extremely loving and eager to spread the wealth. Sirius, on the other hand, had pushed back against his birth family as hard as he could before he finally left to stay with the Potter’s full time.

His younger brother, Reg, followed a few years later, and they’ve been with James and his parents ever since. James met Lily studying in University; Reg became enamoured with her just as quickly, though much more quietly than James had, and the rest, as they say, is history. 

The options for Remus’ family were slim to none after moving from Wales to London in order for him to attend school. University had not been in the plans for him as the Lupin family came from almost nothing, but they had earned enough in the mob to secure him a spot anyhow. They had hoped to leave the lifestyle behind them, but their resume was lacking after spending years in crime. Eventually, it was Remus’ mother, Hope Lupin, who found Effie which introduced Remus and his father into the Potter Agency.

A legal corporation with less than legal methods; they liked to believe they were some of the good guys.

The term ‘good’ is used lightly, of course.

There’s crime, theft, assault, torture, and sometimes even death, but they don’t do it for the money or notoriety – not really. 

Potter & Son’s Corporations acts as the authority when the police lose control of the situation. So much of the crime that takes place is through drugs and laundering – the kinds of things that the police are more than happy to turn a blind eye to so long as they’re being paid.

But when police are being paid off, other crimes – such as trafficking – start happening, and the police often find that their hands are “tied”. 

So, Potter & Son’s deal with it, and it helps.

At least that’s what Remus tells himself. 

He understood why Sirius and James stayed. Neither had a choice really, much like himself, but Sirius made the choice of the lesser of two evils – chaotic good (Potter's) versus chaotic evil (The Black family). As for James; this was his family business. He was Potter & Son before it became Son’s to accommodate Sirius, and later Reg and finally Remus. This was James’ legacy, and he now had a wife, a boyfriend and a son to continue protecting, and he did that by staying. 

Remus stayed because, well, it’s all there really is for him. Any background-check a potential employer could run on him would not only take him out of the running so fast, but they’d also likely even report him. His mom and dad had their part – running one of the many restaurants in the city that acted as the front for Potter & Son’s. 

But Remus wouldn’t wish this on anyone.

Not even the stranger – flustered, music theory, Disney quoting, sailor level swearing stranger that singlehandedly nearly killed him and then saved him within the span of two hours. 

She had been overwhelmingly distracting, and James was right; Remus was usually the one at attention always. He never got distracted on missions – that’s why he took the position in the bar to wait on the dirty fuck. James is overly friendly and likely to get distracted by any Tom, Dick or Nancy that walked through the door – and God forbid there’s a pub cat present. Sirius can’t stop flirting with anything with a heartbeat for more than a second, and he stands out a little too much anyway due to his last name.

Hence, Remus goes in.

Only to be utterly enchanted by a foreign PhD student whose nose was cold bitten red and her hair thoroughly crumpled from her obvious pulling. Remus tried to ignore her; he really did. He even thought he did a pretty good job when her damned pencil skirt rode up and exposed more of her tight-clad thighs as she sat on the barstool. He even ignored the way she played with her bottom lip between her thumb and index finger as she waited for the bartender to notice her.

But then she had to go and order a fucking negroni alongside a pint of beer. 

If she hadn’t looked like she tasted so sweet, Remus is sure he would have gagged outloud. 

And really, what is a proper Welsh bloke like him ought to do when he sees a crime against alcohol take place before his very eyes? By-stander he is not, good sir. 

But it didn’t matter. It had been too close. It was foolish. And dangerous. For both of them. 

He may not be able to save her from Gilderoy Lockhart, but he could save her from this. 

Regulus decided this was the perfect time to interrupt Remus’ inner ramblings. “So, when are you seeing her next?”

He stared at him dumbly. “Excuse me?”

“The girl, when are you seeing her next?” He clarified as he popped a cracker into his mouth.

“Come on, Moony, don’t tell me you didn’t close the deal!” Sirius commented from across the table.

“What? I- no. No, there was no deal to be closed, you prat.” Remus muttered for Sirius’ benefit. “It wasn’t like that.”

“‘It wasn’t like that’ he says, like he wasn’t wrapped around her little finger for two hours as she waxed poetic about the architecture of Manchester.” James sing songed.

“What” Remus sputtered, “she did not talk about Manchester architecture, James.”

“But you were wrapped around her finger?”

“Not that either!” He shouted. “Enough, it wasn’t like that, I’m not seeing her again. End of discussion.”

“Mm, kay, counter point: discussion not ended. What do you mean you’re not seeing her again?” Lily interjected. 

“I mean exactly that – I’m not seeing her again.”

“Rem,” Lily started softly, and he groaned knowing she was about to go all mama-bird on him. “When’s the last time you fancied someone like that? You’ve guffawed at everyone I’ve ever tried to set you up with.”

“Because they were all dull.” Remus muttered apparently not quietly enough as he was smacked up the back of his head.

“And you’ve never found yourself distracted on a job before. That has to mean something, right? Why not give it a shot?” She asked gently.

Remus chose to ignore the second part of her sentence altogether for the benefit of everyone. “Exactly, I’ve never been distracted on a job before. Something is clearly wrong with me, I think maybe we should all be a little bit more worried about that, hm?” 

Everyone rolled their eyes and turned back to their various tasks. For James, that meant holding a raspberry competition with his infant son, Reg and Sirius began rough housing which quickly turned into an actual knife fight, and Lily back to restocking the medicine cabinet. 

It was one job – I’m fine. I’ll likely never see her again. Remus thought to himself.

He tried not to let that thought upset him.

He failed.

Your encounter with The Man ™ as you’d started calling him in your head continued to bother you throughout the week. You thought you had been doing a pretty decent job keeping it from your thoughts: you guest lectured with no hiccups, your playing didn’t seem to be impacted and you kept up in orchestra well, and you even managed a facetime with your best friend Elle back home. 

Apparently zoning out in the middle of grading with your pen in your mouth was what finally gave you away.

“Miss. L/N?” Minerva called.

You quickly sat up straight. “Hm? I’m so sorry Professor, I-”

She waved you off with a kind smile. “My dear, I’ve told you to call me Minerva – as a PhD student, you’re more like my colleague than you are my student. I only meant to ask what has you so distracted. Are the first-year level quizzes on the basics of composition not riveting enough for you?” She asked gently, though her tone was often lost in her thick, stern sounding Scottish accent. 

“Sorry Pro- I mean, Minerva.” You caught yourself at her stern look. “I was just thinking that no one would know if I was missing.” 

Minerva dropped her pen and sat straight.

“My dear, what has you concerned. Has something-” she began to ask, but you cut her off.

“No, no. I’m fine, I just realized – if I go to a pub after school one day and something happens, no one will know to look for me. There’s no one at my apartment waiting for me at the end of the day, the landlord wouldn’t care until the end of the month when my rent was late, and even then, it’d be a while before she did anything about that. Students come and go from your life every day – if I wasn’t available to help grading or lecturing, you’d ask someone else. And that would be it. My friends back home would only realize I hadn’t been answering messages and would assume I’ve been busy.”

You looked up from the carpet where you had been zoned out. 

“And I don’t say any of that for sympathy. I just mean, well, someone ought to know – you know?”

Minerva considered your words before nodding slowly. 

“I’d notice. The second I had to settle for Mr. Lockhart’s subpar grading or lecturing.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the matriarch. 

“Put me down as your emergency contact.” She added.

“I’m sorry?”

“With the school. And at your apartment. In your phone too if you can. Put me as your emergency contact. I’ll know then if anything happens.” She stated plainly as if she hadn’t just offered you an actual lifeline in Europe when you were thousands of kilometers from anyone who gave a damn about you.

“Thank you, Minerva.” You said softly.

The corner of her mouth quirked up, but she never moved her gaze from her papers.

“You’re very welcome, Y/N.” 

You sat in your apartment – or you supposed you should call it a flat, you were in England after all – and watched traffic outside of the window while you replayed your conversation with Elle.

“I’m just worried about you is all.” She said.

You rolled your eyes as you held the phone between your ear and shoulder and loaded the washing machine. 

“Why?”

“Why? Because! You’re all alone out there in a tiny apartment in a big city where you don’t know anyone!”

“Elle, I don’t see how that’s any different than what I had been doing last year. I did the exact same thing in New York, and you didn’t seem this concerned then.” You chided.

“Well-” she started. “Well, that was different.”

“How?”

“Because you were at least on the same continent as me. It was maybe a three-hour flight versus an eight. What else do you want me to say, Y/N?”

You sighed and threw your head back.

“I don’t want you to say anything Elle, I just don’t understand why we’re having this conversation.”

“It’s been almost six months.”

You stopped and stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. The six-month anniversary of your mom’s death was next week; you were well aware of that. It showed on your body, too, and you were glad Elle couldn’t see you now. You looked pale; your hair was dirty and piled messily on top of your head in a bun, though some locks were doing their damnedest to break free. Your clothes seemed to hang off your body in a way that hadn’t before as well; you made a mental note to figure that out at some point. 

“What about it?” You muttered, leaving the offending mirror behind you, and moving through your apartment (flat).

“Y/N/N, I just don’t think it’s healthy to be sitting in that apartment all alone. I mean, I know you haven’t been keeping in as much touch with the others, which is fair,” She emphasized the end as you began to defend yourself. “They don’t understand what it’s like to lose a parent or the intricacies of grad school, but still, it’s been noticed. And you haven’t dated since, what, Brian?”

“Brandon.” You corrected bitterly.

“Exactly, and how many years has that been?”

You moved your reading glasses to the top of your head and scrubbed your hand down your face. You loved Elle, you really did. But she was the kind of person to throw herself at life without self-reflection and that just wasn’t your style. She also lived by the motto that we were put on this earth to find our “other half”, and that all of lifes problems can be solved by finding someone to spend it with, which was another thing you just couldn’t get behind.

So, yes, it had been six years since your last relationship, and seeing as you weren’t the type to date around, you’d been single the entire time.

But you’ve been happy. 

You and your mom travelled a bit when she was still healthy. You attended Julliard to complete your master’s in music and spent time living in New York City. You played with the New York Philharmonic and in orchestra halls across North America. You went to the fucking Tony awards (as a seat filler, mind you, but still)!

“I just worry, Y/N. I mean, next thing I know, you’ll be telling me you’ve gotten yourself a cat or two!” She jested.

Your gaze shot to Huckleberry, the long-haired tom-cat you recently rescued from the local humane society, who was currently curled up on a throw blanket on your couch which you had yet to inform Elle about. You figured it could probably wait until your next chat with her.

“Don’t worry about me too much, Elle.” You sighed as you gave the feline a pat across the head.

“Someone has to.”

You fought the urge to groan – you knew she wasn’t trying, but this conversation was turning out to be more painful than you needed right now. The last thing you needed to be reminded of was how completely alone you were on this planet. If not for Elle and a few of your other mutual friends, you’d literally have Huckleberry and Minerva for company. And, God forbid, Gilderoy.

“I’ll talk to you later Elle.”

“Okay Y/N/N, be safe. Love you!”

“Love you.” You added before you hung up.

Part of you wondered if she was right about some things. Aren’t you meant to be meeting people? Making friends? That’s what people do when they relocate, right? 

You looked at your phone which sat on the couch behind you. It never lights up; no one’s looking for you. 

You didn’t much fancy downloading an app – it felt phony, like you were trying to sell yourself to someone. How else did people meet other people these days though?

School? Already there. Work?

Work.

I could get a job. 

You’ve been comfortable. Between funding from school and your mother’s life insurance, you hadn’t been too concerned for money though you had been living somewhat frugally. You supposed it wouldn’t hurt to have some pocket money, and maybe make a dent in your never-ending student loans. 

I'll get a job then. 

You’ve served at bars in Toronto and New York throughout school and worked as a waitress at different diners. Most people didn’t like working the service industry, but you didn’t much mind it; in cities that large, people are always in a hurry to get to somewhere else and don’t often stay long enough to really gather your interest. 

It’d be even better if I could find a job that involved music. 

Part of you still felt like an imposter. 

You’re working on your PhD, you studied music at Julliard, and played in world-renowned orchestras, but you still felt like you had no right holding a seat in the industry.

Fucking Gilderoy wasn’t helping that either. You thought darkly. 

“Right,” You told yourself aloud. “One thing at a time.”

And you looked up job opportunities online. 

The smell of garlic permeated Remus’ senses as he and Sirius stepped into his parent’s restaurant. 

Remus worked for a damn mob, yet somehow, his white-Welsh parents operating an Italian restaurant left him feeling dirty – though, his Da was always quick to state he was 37% Italian on his mother’s side, whatever that meant. 

He followed the sound of cursing and found his mum in her office. 

“Oi, mum, who has you so wound up? I want names and addresses.” Sirius said as he plopped himself down onto one of the chairs opposite of Hope Lupin’s desk and kicked his Doc Marten clad feet up onto it.

“Sirius, I love you, but it’ll be your name and address I give out if you don’t get your sodding feet of my desk.” Hope stated sweetly without looking up from the papers on her desk. “Hi, cariad’s.”

“Hey mum, what’re you working on?” Remus replied as he sat (properly) in the chair beside Sirius.

She sighed and turned to look at the two boys. “Well, you remember the issues we were having with our new hire last week?”

Sirius looked up from his phone at this. “Hot Stephanie?”

Hope rolled her eyes, “Yes, Stephanie. Well, we had to let her go.”

“Awe mum, I’m sorry. Do you need a hand around here until you find more help?” Remus asked quickly.

Hope turned a soft smile in her son’s direction, her green eyes crinkling in the corners. “As much as I’d love having you around, cariad, I’m still recovering from you and James helping out last summer.”

Remus grimaced while Sirius barked a laugh. He and James had their strengths – but working the service industry apparently wasn’t one of them. 

“Besides, I’ve got a few good candidates here I think.” She said and gestured to a pile of CVs on her desk. “This lass sounds promising.”

“Yes, mummykins! Hire another hottie for us.” Sirius cheered. 

“That’s enough out of you.” Hope chided as she swatted him with her stack of resumes. “She’s got plenty of experience in restaurants and bars, and she may even be able to offer live music for us!”

“That’s sweet of you Hope, giving jobs to starving artists.” Sirius said looking back at his phone. 

“She did look a little peaky.” Hope admitted, “But I’m sure that’s on account of her recent move. She’s American.” 

“What?” Remus snapped.

His mum hummed. “Yup, she went to Julliard, served as a bartender and server in Toronto and New York pubs. She should work out really well!”

“Let me see this.” Remus muttered, snatching the CV unceremoniously from my mother’s hands.

Y/N L/N. University of Toronto / The Julliard School / Royal College of Music. Guest lecturer, experience in classical and contemporary performance and composition, teacher’s assistant, bartender, and server. The names of the various restaurants and bars you worked at were listed but they blurred in his vision.

“What has gotten into you, cariad.” Hope gently chided as she took the CV back from his hands. 

“What did she look like?” Remus spat.

“Pardon me?” 

Remus described you; he described your skin tone – a match. Your eyes? A match. Your hair colour and length? A match. 

“Shorter?”

Hope rolled her eyes. “Not everyone can be as tall as you and your father, Remus.”

“Mum, answer the question.”

She scoffed. “Yes, I suppose she was a little short.”

“You can’t hire her.”

“Excuse me?” She asked incredulously.

“Oh my God.” Sirius finally interjected, taking the CV from Hope’s hands. “Is this The Girl?”

“The girl?” She asked.

Remus snatched the CV back out of Sirius’ hands and placed it back in the pile onto his mum’s desk. 

“Who’s The Girl?” Hope asked, but it was obvious she was asking Sirius. 

“Oh, you should have seen it, Mum. We were on a stake out for one of McCormick’s crew at The Drunken Sailor, and Remus got all caught up chatting this pretty little lady at the bar. He didn’t even notice-” 

“I didn’t even notice that the bloke had come in until he went to leave.” Remus interrupted, not wanting to worry his mum by telling her how close he came to dying.

“Right...” Sirius continued, squinting his eyes at Remus. “Anyways, looks like you found The Girl who distracted our darling Remus here.”

Hope’s gaze was full of mirth as she turned to look at her son.

“So, you meet my dream employee at a bar one night and don’t even introduce me?”

“Mum, it wasn’t like that.” Remus whined, thoroughly annoyed by this conversation.

“Fine, but I’m sorry cariad, she’s the only one who applied who was worth my time, in fact, she’s likely overqualified. I’m arranging an interview.” 

Remus sighed in defeat. So much for keeping her out of this mess.

Continue to part three here 🥃

[kitty-tea]

Like father, like son

(Link to masterlist)

Read part 2 here

Read part 3 here

Summary: Harry and his father James are similar in so many ways. They like Quidditch, they’re both Gryffindors, and they have you in their lives. The difference is that you feel something for James that you’ll never feel for Harry who is younger than you.

A/n: originally supposed to be a single part but it was too long so I turned it into multiple parts.

Pairing: James Potter x reader

NSFW 18+ only!

Word count: 3.8k

Tags/warnings: mature content, love triangle (kind of), masturbation, sexual content, fluff, angst, mentions of death, reader is of age, heavy sexual tension, borderline adultery, one-sided crush, James lives, doesn’t follow the main storyline at all, conflicting feelings, accidental groping, innocence kink, slow burn

Ever since your parents were murdered by Death Eaters, you had never been in a stable living situation. You never stopped moving in between the Potters’ house, the Weasleys’ Burrow, or Sirius’ ancestral home. Out of everywhere you’ve moved, it was those three places you spent the most time at. When you were an eighteen-year-old in your seventh year, and your friend Harry was fifteen and in his fifth year, you got the news that your childhood home had been burned down. Harry and the surviving adult members of the Order decided it was then that they would introduce themselves to you, and the secret society your parents were a part of. They knew it was the Death Eaters who were responsible for your parent’s demise, but with no evidence of their responsibility, the Ministry had no arrests.

Everything in your life began to change and move too fast for you to keep track of from then on. The pain of losing your parents was easily numbed out by all the studying you subjected yourself to, but it wasn’t until after you graduated that the pain settled into the void that was once filled by academic stress. The members of the Order understood that you were in no place to go out and find a job, so they gave you allowance money for doing house chores for them.

You first met Harry formally when he, as a first year, was introduced by Oliver Wood, as the new Seeker for your house’s Quidditch team. You were skeptical about having a first year player on the team since it was against the rules, but Wood and McGonagall told you to trust their judgment, and Harry had won his first match. You congratulated him, and after that, you’d kind of taken him under your wing. Being older than him by three years, you weren’t close with him in the same way he was with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, but besides that, he never had a big sister, so that’s how he came to see you as. But that was when he was younger.

When you visited his family’s home in Godric’s Hollow over the winter holidays, you met his parents for the first time as they gave you their sincere condolences for your loss.

Another thing in your life that moved at you too fast was the little crush you were starting to have on your little friend’s married father. The moment you met James, you got straight into bonding over Quidditch since the both of you played the same position for Gryffindor. You were eighteen years old, you never had a crush before, your life was a stressful mess, and you didn’t need the guilt of being attracted to a married man to be added to it. You wondered if it was normal to feel the way you felt about having a crush on somebody. You’ve heard the other girls at school giggling and smiling about their crushes, but they were boys their age, not married, and they weren’t dealing with the type of stress you were dealing with.

Out of every family whose house you stayed at you spent the most time at the Potters’. Lily had come to see you as the daughter she never had. James on the other hand, was someone you were so desperate to hide your attraction from his wife.

Since you didn’t have much clothes of your own, you had to wear Lily’s hand-me-downs, or God forbid, whatever Sirius’ mother used to wear in her teenage years. Between those two women’s fashion senses, it was easy to say you favored Lily’s bright sundresses over Walburga’s gowns that reeked of darkness and death.

The sight of you wearing Lily’s old clothes around the house was enough to make James lose it if he wasn’t in front of his family with his wife complimenting you on how adorable you looked. Lose what? His sanity? He didn’t want to know.

That night as his wife was asleep next to him, you asleep on the living room couch, and his son asleep in his own room, all of them blissfully unaware of his racing thoughts, he couldn’t get the image of how you looked out of his mind.

James felt guilt and arousal overcome him as he pictured the way Lily’s dress (now yours) clung so effortlessly to your figure, showing off your thighs, barely leaving anything to the imagination.

Those days that you went to go live with other families were a breath of relief for James as much as it was torture. Relief because his mind wasn’t clouded with his filthy thoughts about you that he had in front of his wife, and torture because he missed everything about the intoxicated feeling he’d get from your addictive scent when you’d walk past him to the fierce pounding in his chest that made him feel the same way he felt about Lily.

Speaking of looking at you, he didn’t think you’d catch onto how his son started looking at you, but he did. He was a boy once, he understood the signs of a lovesick boy, and Harry checked all the boxes. He hoped that he wouldn’t be pursuing a relationship with you. He was a fifteen-year-old boy, and you were a young woman, of course the feelings his underage son had were no less inappropriate than the feelings he had for you as a married man!

To go behind his wife’s back and act on his feelings would not only be a betrayal to her, but to you and his son as well. It would ruin the family dynamic that the four of you had been building up. And he didn’t want to take that away from you. Even though you were an adult, Lily and James referred to you and Harry as “the kids.” Lily might’ve thought it was cute to have herself and James call you that, but to him it made him feel disgusted at himself, for it only reminded him even more that while you were closer to his son’s age, you were not a kid.

The day he’d almost crossed the line of no return was during the hot summer of his son’s sixteenth birthday, when Lily told you, Harry, and James that she was going out to meet friends, leaving the three of you alone. James decided it was a good idea to take “the kids” out for some ice cream in town.

Once the three of you sat down next to one of the coffee tables, taking refuge in the cool air circulating around the ice cream shop, Harry sat on the couch next to you while James took his seat on an armchair across the table from you.

Harry congratulated you on finishing your magical education, telling you how strong you’ve grown after everything you went through in your last year. You then shifted the focus of the conversation onto Harry’s upcoming sixth year, asking him about the classes he’ll be taking.

James watched as you and Harry talked for a while. Even though his eyes never left you, he could sense the lingering looks his son would give you, and it made him seath inside. James didn’t know if it was cute or pitiful that you made it very clear to Harry that when you would tell him you saw him as more than a friend, you meant that you saw him as a little brother.

When Harry had finished his ice cream, he pulled out some Muggle coins from his pocket and told you to join him in the arcade area of the shop when you were done before running off.

Even though you were still in a public space, James felt like he was alone with you.

With the way you were licking your ice cream off the spoon slowly while keeping your eyes on him, it would’ve been easy for onlookers to mistake it as an attempt at seduction. Even he would’ve mistaken it as such if you didn’t know he was married. He thought you might’ve been spacing out, unaware that a drop of the sweet threat had stuck near the corner of your lips as you finished the bowl.

Only when he called out your name to get your attention did you jolt out of whatever daydreams you were immersed in.

That sweet look you gave him with your doe eyes almost made him forget what to say until his eyes fell to your lips.

“You’ve got something. Right here.” He pointed to the spot on his face to mirror where the ice cream was stuck.

You stuck your tongue out swinging it near your cheek and failing to reach that spot which made James chuckle. You looked so silly with your whole face scrunched up in concentration.

“Did I get it?” You asked hopefully.

“Here, let me help you.” He said without thinking as he got up from his seat and plopped down next to you. Right to where your exposed thigh was touching the fabric of his jeans.

He was so close to you he felt like he could get drunk just off the scent of your strawberry shampoo. You looked so small and innocent, looking up at him like a deer in the headlights.

It was as if his heart was possessing his body and controlling his hand that brought itself up to your cheek, his thumb wiping across it. He could’ve just let go of you, or better yet get you a napkin to clean yourself up which is what he should’ve done in the first place. You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, you weren’t a little girl. That thought still didn’t make him feel like less of a pervert.

He was for sure spacing out because the next thing he knew, he found his thumb had landed on your bottom lip. He miraculously found it in himself to stifle a groan that wanted to escape him as he felt your tongue give out a small, hesitant lick.

“All done!” You let go of his thumb and gave him a cheery smile as if you hadn’t just almost made him cum right there. “I’m gonna go see what game Harry’s playing!”

You stood up with your empty bowl and threw it in the waste bin before running off to join Harry, leaving him to feel disgusted in himself.

He was indeed disgusted in himself for how he had imagined for a split second that it was his cum all over your pretty lips instead of the ice cream.

One of your favorite activities to participate in was dueling. The older adults in the Order thought dueling was something important that should be incorporated into your life post-education. You thought it was interesting how each of them had different styles for training you. With Sirius, he would throw insults to purposefully catch you off guard, to simulate fighting with the enemy, while with Molly, she would tell you what a good job you were doing and to keep it up.

It was Remus who first brought up the idea to have everyone take turns training you. You couldn’t stop blushing as he bragged to James and Lily about how you and Harry were one of the most talented students in your years he saw potential in. And now that you were out of school, it was the perfect time for you to focus on learning how to fight to expand on that potential.

You usually had your training sessions in the Potters’ or Weasleys’ backyard since there was way more space and less risk of property damage than Sirius’ family home in London.

It was a guarantee that Harry or the younger Weasley children would come and watch you, seeing that it would be a good learning experience for them too.

Harry sat next to his father on a bench, giving you a thumbs up as you stood in front of Sirius, preparing for the sparring session in the Potters’ backyard. It was just you, Sirius, and the father son duo out there. Lily was out once again this time at her job.

You and Sirius got to it straight away firing spells at each other. While Sirius used Protego, you knew you weren’t as skilled in the shielding charm, so you opted to move out of the way when he’d blast at you.

“Don’t you know you’re just tiring yourself out with all this moving!” He shouted at you. “Bombar-”

“Arresto momentum! Descendo!” That combination had him slow down his movements before suddenly thrusting him onto the grass.

“Nice one!” James clapped his hands. “You’ve got good reflexes! Keep going!”

“Shut up James, you’re distracting her! That’s my job!” Sirius turned to him, giving you an opportunity to cast Flipendo, sending him rolling backwards.

“I win!” You held up your arms as Harry jumped up and high-fived you. “Who’s distracted now?” You stuck your tongue out at Sirius, who was still on the ground, rubbing his head.

“That’s not fair! James, it’s all your fault! It’ll be our turn after the break!” He pointed accusingly at his best friend.

“I’ll be looking forward to it. You won’t stand a chance against me, old friend.” James smirked.

“Both Sirius and your dad are such show offs.” You laughed with Harry. “Typical Gryffindors.”

“Hey, don’t pretend like you’re not one of those too, young lady!” Sirius snapped his fingers at you.

“Ugh. I’ve got to use the loo. I think she flipendo-ed my bladder.” He groaned, standing up. You and Harry only looked at each other and burst out laughing as he disappeared through the back door.

“You’re getting so much better! I can’t wait until I’m old enough to use magic outside school! We can practice together!” Harry praised you.

“Aww, Harry you’re so sweet! I love you!” You smiled at him, reaching out to ruffle his already messy hair.

“I… love you too.” James knew that one sentence had two different meanings depending on which one of you said it. Besides, what did the young boy know about love? What he was experiencing was a silly teenage crush. He couldn’t fall in love with you, he was too young for you. He wondered if his own son even knew how poorly he was concealing his little crush from him. He might have you fooled, but James knew him better than you did in terms of how he showed his feelings.

“You’re the best little brother I never had!” You opened your arms, letting Harry into your embrace.

“Yeah, thanks.” He wrapped his hands around the small of your back. Both you and James could see the frown forming on his face. James was glad in a way that you and Harry weren’t the same age or else he would already have asked you out, he was completely sure of it.

“What’s wrong?” You innocently asked Harry, tilting your head. You looked as though you were wondering what Harry was thinking as you caught him staring at you.

“Nothing… I’m just-I’ll just be standing outside the bathroom and telling Sirius to stop hogging it.”

It was just you and James now, standing alone in the middle of the grass.

“Is that how you’re preparing for your turn with Sirius? By standing around doing nothing?” You spoke first.

“Yes.” James shrugged. “He’s got no idea what’s coming for him.”

You could feel a blush creep up your cheeks as you thought you saw him wink at you. You awkwardly shifted your weight from one foot to the other, trying to find something to keep the conversation going.

“You did well. You’re still young, and you’ve got so much to learn.” James said. You didn’t know when you had moved so close together to the point of your toes nearly touching. “Show me your stance again.”

You put your wand out in front of your face and flicked your arm.

“Darling, I’m sorry, but you’re leaving yourself open to an attack. Try this.” Your breath hitched in your throat as James got so close behind you to the point his chest was lightly pressed against your back.

He took your fist that was clenching your wand, lowering it slightly so that it wasn’t as in your face anymore.

“There. Now you can see your target much better.” His voice dripped into your ear like sweet honey, making you feel weak in your chest.

You were however more horrified with yourself at the ache that began to grow between your legs as you felt the tips of the fingers of his other hand brush through your hair before tucking it behind your ear.

“Why don’t you try again?” He whispered, his lips almost touching your earlobe. “This time, bring your legs apart more.”

“Wh-What?” That was the only word you remembered how to say at that moment. You were so distracted by his smooth voice you couldn’t stop the image of yourself naked with your legs spread in front of him from forming in your mind.

“To help you balance.” James clarified. Okay, he didn’t mean anything sexual by that. You had to remind yourself as you felt a shiver run through you along with his hands that slid from your arms to your waist and hips before landing on the cotton hem of your shorts.

You could feel the heat between your thighs grow as James gently squeezed the soft flesh that was dangerously close to your pussy. You were glad you wore panties that day or else you would’ve soaked through the thin material of your shorts by now.

You didn’t know what you were thinking when you squirmed and you felt James’ forefinger grazing just the lightest bit against your pussy. You could’ve sworn you heard him whisper a cuss word.

“James?” You tried to bring him back. “How am I doing. Is my stance good now?”

“Yeah… you’re doing excellent.” He breathed out.

You had never felt an erection against your body before, but you were sure you could feel something hard pressing against your ass at that moment.

“I’m going to let go,” thank goodness. You didn’t know how much longer you could take it with him manhandling you like that. “And you’re going to cast a spell with the new stance I taught you.”

You felt like you could finally breathe as the weight of his body disappeared from behind you.

“Engorgio.” The flower nearby ballooned up.

“Good girl.” You didn’t know whether his eyes had darkened or it was the lighting.

James was as equally disgusted in himself as he was intrigued. He had come this close again to crossing the line between what was and wasn’t inappropriate with you. Actually, he was sure he deserved time in hell for how he was touching you earlier as it was definitely considered inappropriate. He was intrigued because he was now sure the attraction went both ways.

The slightest whimpers he could hear coming out of you was something he couldn’t get out of his mind as his hand softly squeezed around his cock, with his other hand planted against the shower wall.

It was like his eyes had suddenly been opened to the glances you’d cast at him that would linger a little longer than what was normal. Speaking of normal, he knew he shouldn’t be shaming or ridiculing you for these feelings you were having. He knew it was normal for young women to catch feelings for older men. He’d seen it in the way Nymphadora Tonks looked at his best friend Remus, even if Remus himself tried denying it with excuses such as, “I’m too poor, I’m too old, I’m a werewolf.”

He imagined that instead of his hand pumping around his cock, that it was yours, or any body part of yours. Your lips, your pussy, your tongue, he wanted it all. He let himself admit it.

He could never go back to telling himself that he only saw you as a daughter. He may be able to convince everyone otherwise, but not himself.

His mind went back to how his finger had accidentally grazed over your clothed pussy, where he could feel the heat of it along with the outline of your inner lips rubbing against the seam of your shorts.

He started wondering how you would taste on his tongue. He imagined you would be an addicting treat to him that he couldn’t get enough of.

He then got curious about how tight your walls would feel around his dick. He deduced from your conversations that you never had sex from the lack of boyfriends mentioned. At this point, he was so desperate for his seed to spill into your virgin cunt, to the point he shut his mouth abruptly as he caught himself grunting your name. He knew no one in the house would hear him over the sound of running water, but he could never be too careful.

With one last stroke of his cock along with the image of you bent over in front of him, water glistening along the soft curves of your body, he let himself go. He wished it was your tits his cum hit not the shower walls. He squashed that thought out of his mind almost as soon as it crept in.

Trying to escape those thoughts, he aggressively yanked the shower head off the rack, desperate to wash away any evidence of his indecent activity.

Even behind your innocence, you had to be hiding a beast that was waiting for the right man to have it lured out. He wanted it to be him, but he couldn’t betray everything he and his family had worked for, he reminded himself for the umpteenth time.

Why couldn’t he just look at you the same way his friends looked at you?!

There was definitely something wrong with James because the way he looked at you was not how any father should look at his daughter.

Then, there was Harry. The way he looked at you was not how any brother should look at his big sister.

Harry’s little crush he had on you seemed innocent, the extreme opposite of James’ sexual attraction towards you.

For a second James envied his son. He was too innocent to have his mind plagued by these wild fantasies of you. All he got was a fluttery feeling in his stomach from looking at you which translated to a poorly concealed blush to other people’s point of view.

He understood Harry’s feelings towards you. You were a beautiful, kind, young woman, how could he not be smitten by you? How could he be angry at his son for feeling something so natural for any boy to feel?

He could just be angry at himself. Yes, he deserved to burn in hell after all.

[lionizingheathen]

Please I need to see you writing something with dbf!James Potter (I would be so happy if you add some size kink too)

This is territory i haven't explored, so I apologize if it is not what you are after (All parties are 18+)

DBF!James Potter x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut, Age gap, Jealousy, Size Kink, Some Degredation, masturbation, oral sex male recieving

Bless Theodore Nott’s money and his want to date you, even if it would never happen… the money, the cars, they were both wonderful reasons to take little trips home to visit your little brother.

"I had a great time with you today, I'd love to see you again sometime." Theo said, and you nodded.  You’d missed him, he was such a good friend.

"Absolutely." You pressed a kiss to his cheek, squeezing his hand before you straightened up.  "I'll see you later."  You called over your shoulder, and you waited for him to speed away before you turned toward your house, making a beeline for your door.  You didn’t want anyone to see you getting in, this was a quiet visit, you weren’t wanting to get in any conversation-.

"Y/N.  I didn't realize you were home from University." You jumped, glancing over to see your neighbor, Mr. Potter, leaning on his lawnmower, sweaty from lawnwork.  God, he was so hot… you’d forgotten that, forgotten how hot he’d looked at your father’s pool party… that was the last time you’d truly seen him, you’d left for University the week after.

"Mr. Potter!  Hi, yes, I'm home for the weekend, just needed to see-." He raised an eyebrow, running his fingers through his hair with a frustrated sort of grunt.

"Some boy."  He finished, and you sighed, shaking your head.  No, going out with him was a chance to spend time with an old friend.  It was not the reason why they went home.

"My brother, is what I was actually going to say."  You said, and he nodded, looking skeptical as he straightened up, stretching up, drawing attention to his waistline, your eyes being drawn down to his crotch.  God, you wanted to ride his cock.

"Hm." He examined his nails, giving you a look. "Certainly seemed like you were here for someone else entirely." Why did he care?  This didn’t affect him at all, he’d barely paid you any mind aside from the times that you’d babysat Harry… Granted, he was a bit more reclusive since he lost his wife, so it wasn’t surprising.

"I can't hang out with an old friend from high school?" You asked, and he chuckled, shrugging as he wiped his face with the hem of his shirt. You tried to not stare at his exposed lower stomach, the tight abs, the line of dark hair that disappeared below his waistline... you clenched your thighs and glanced away, trying to cast any thoughts of your father's best friend out of your mind.

"A friend who wanted to fuck you." James snapped, his tone coming out a little bit rough, a little bit dangerous, making a shiver run down your spine. God, if you didn't know any better you'd think that James Potter was jealous... He probably wasn;t, but the bare idea of it was enough to make your knees get weak, thinking about him taking you right and now, making you scream his name and apologize for your attitiude.

"He does not-." He cut you off quickly, frustrating you with the way that he did that with ease, placing his large hand on your shoulder. Like he did it all the time.

"Oh, please. I'm a man, I know when someone wants that. I know it very well." He said, and you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms across your chest as he walked over to you. You looked up at him, setting your jaw. Yeah, he was hot, but why was he being so fucking cocky about this?

"How would you know? No one's fucked you since your wife passed away." You fired back, and he scoffed, dropping his hand from your shoulder as he took a large step back. Well, that was very telling, you knew you were probably right, but god...

"You have no way of knowing that." He snapped, and you smirked, shrugging your shoulders as you rested your hands on your hips. He was such an open book, it was no surprise you'd figured that out with ease.

"Except for perception. It's clear." You said, and James was silent for a moment before he looked down at you, raising an eyebrow.

"Is this how your father taught you to talk to his friends?" He asked, and you shrugged. Honestly, your father had never really given you any direction on how to talk to his friends because you rarely even thought of talking to them in the first place

"My father didn't ever tell me how to talk to his friends." You said, and he shook his head, grimacing as he took a step back onto his side of the lawn, walking away backwards.

"Stay away from that boy-." You cut him off, feeling frustrated. He didn't control you, he wasn't anything more than a man who was occasionally in your house... unless he was making you cum, he had no control over that, and that was simply a pipe dream.

"I don't have to do a single thing that you say. I'm an adult, I'll hang out with whoever I please. I'll fuck whoever I goddamn please. Goodbye." You walked up to your door, yanking on it. locked. And you knew your keys were on your desk. You shook your head and sighed, resting it against the door. "Shit." You hissed, and a moment later you heard someone walking up behind you.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" James asked and you turned around, giving him a small smile as you shook your head. All the frustration was draining from that situation now that you were locked out, now you were just angry at yourself for leaving your keys at home.

"No. I'm locked out and my father is out for the night." You sighed, and James raised his eyebrow, clearly not seeing the problem.

"Can't your brother come to the door?"

"He's at a sleepover tonight, so he's not home either." You explained, and James chewed on his lip for a moment before jerking his head towards his house.

"I have an empty guest room. It's getting late, come inside." James said, and you paused. While he was being nice, you still didn't feel you should come in unless the invitation was only a formality.

"I don't want to put you out-." He waved you off. Okay.

"Y/N. I offered. Please come in." He said, and you nodded, following him across his lawn and into his house.

"God, I haven't been in here for months." You sighed, taking in the house. It looked more or less the same, but it felt different. More like a house and less like a home... Lily had brought it to home status.

"It's a little messy." He said, and you shrugged. There were some empty bottles and a couple of things strwen about, but it wasn't dirty. Just... human.

"It just looks lived in, that's better than looking clincal." You said, and he nodded, sighing as he rested his hands on his hips. He had bags under his eyes, looking more stressed the longer you actually took in his frame.

"That's... thank you." He said, and you nodded. You meant it, it was still comforting even if it wasn't the same.

"Of course."

"Well..." He rubbed the back of the neck, both of you standing awkwardly for a moment. You could kiss him, no one could stop you... but if he didn't want that, that would be bad. "Guest room is down the hall. I'm going to go into my room, the door will be shut, just knock if you need anything." He said, and you nodded.

"Okay." You had nothing to wear to bed... that either meant sleeping naked or sleeping in jeans. "Shit." You whispered, and he paused, turning around to look at you.

"What?" He asked, and you waved him off. Truly it was such a small thing.

"Nothing, don't worry about it." You said, and he let out a chuckle, leaning aganist the wall.

"Well, now I'm more worried than I was before." He said, and you shrugged. No need for any of that.

"I don't have any clothing to sleep in." You said, and he furrowed his brow. Yeah, wasn't that big of a deal, excatly like you'd said.

"Oh, I'm sorry-."

"No, it's okay. I can just... sleep naked. I do it all the time, it's why my dad insisted that I get some curtains-." He cut you off.

"Ahem..." He disappeared into his room for a moment before thrusting a large shirt into your hands, not meeting your eyes. "Borrow this. But give it back." He said, and you smiled, crumpling it in your hands. You'd turned him on, you could tell from the look in his eyes.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter." James grimaced.

"James. You can call me James, it's okay." He insisted, and you nodded. That felt unnatural, but you would still do it... it was only right if he was asking

"James. Right." You paused, listening to the silence of the house. Where was he? "Where's Harry?" You asked, and James gave you a funny look.

"He's gone at school." He said, and you nodded. Right, that weird boarding school... He'd be back at Christmas then and so would you, you'd have to stop by, say hello.

"Right, I keep forgetting about that..."

"Come on, he's only two years younger than you." He said, and you nodded. Yeah, but he was always a kid in your mind, it just never left.

"Feels like he's a child to me..." You picked up the photo on his table, the last one taken before Lily passed. Harry was holding her hand and James was "God, sometimes I forget how bright his eyes are."

"Yeah, he's got her eyes for sure..."

"Does it make you miss her more?" You asked, and he nodded, a sad smile on his face.

"Of course it does. I miss her every moment of every day." James sighed, leaning against the counter. You placed a hand gently on his bicep, resting the urge to squeeze it. So strong.

"She was terrific." You said, and he was quiet for a moment, introspective as he tucked his hands into his pockets, jerking his head toward his room.

"I'm going to turn in for the night, if that's alright." James said, and you nodded. Yeah, you should too... Your dad would probably be freaking out when they got home.

"Of course." You said, and he gave you a small smile as he opened his door, pausing in the doorway.

"I'll see you in the morning, Y/N." He said, and his door was shut a moment later. You wandered down the hallway, looking at the framed photos of James and Lily with Harry before she passed, how happy they looked... you missed having her next door, she'd been a comfort. Inside the guest room you found a bed mostly made, but missing a comforter... maybe it was in the closet?

"Fuck..." You couldn't find the blanket. "Mr. Potter?" You called, but he didn't respond. Okay, so you'd have to go find him... You crept down the hall, knocking quietly on his door before opening it, hearing soft noises from inside.

"Mr. Potter, I was wondering-." You paused in the doorway, mouth falling open as you watched James try to cover his lap with a blanket. "Oh god." You gasped as the blanket fell, revealing his cock, the tip glistening. He was even bigger than you expected, thicker too, and you rubbed your thighs together at the thought of taking him all.

"Y/N! Close the door." He insisted, and you still stood there, drinking him in.

"I..."

"Close the door, please." He begged, and you shook your head, kicking the door shut behind you as you stood against it. You were fucking him. Tonight. There was no stopping you.

"Fuck, you're so big, James." You gasped, walking toward him. He was frozen, hand still on his cock, the tip leaking clear precum as you pulled James' shirt over your head, making his mouth drop open. You saw his cock twitch in his hand.

"What?" He asked, and you nodded, walking closer, watching the way that his eyes clung to your chest, chewing on his lip. He looked so fucking good.

"Do you mind if I... take over?" You asked, and his mouth dropped open as he blinked rapidly, like his body was trying to catch up to his brain. You leaned down and kissed him deeply, feeling him moan against your lips as he pulled you down on the bed. You slid your tongue into his mouth, tangling your fingers in his hair as you felt him grip your ass, grinding you against his cock. So hard. You sat up a moment later, slipping down to your knees in front of him with a large smile. He grunted, tangling his fingers into your hair as he looked down at you through heavily lidded eyes.

"Y/N, you don't have to-." You leaned forward, swirling your tongue over the tip of his cock, moaning around him as you gripped his shaft, jerking your hand up and down. He leaned his head back, gasping before he glanced down at you, looking slightly frantic.

"You taste amazing, James." You sighed, leaning forward again before he could speak, taking him as deep as you could down your throat, gagging as he hit the back of your throat, making your eyes water. You breathed through your nose, trying hard to ease him deeper. You wanted to die around him.

"Fuck, your mouth is so hot... God, you're taking me so well... You don't have to take it all-." You lifted your head, looking him in the eyes as you ran your hands over his large thighs. You wanted him to ruin you in every sense of the term.

"Make me take it all."

"God, you're such a whore, aren't you? Never knew I had such a good cocksleeve living next door..." He said, his voice sounding gruff, sending shots of electricity right to your clit. God, he was so hot.

"Mmm." You groaned around him, feeling his hand push your head further. He pushed you until you had him all the way down your throat, your nose pressed to his pelvis as you struggled to breathe around him.

"That's it baby, that's it... doing so well." He sighed, and you beamed at the praise, bobbing your head up and down as you worked with his size. He was easily the biggest you'd ever had, stretching the corners of your mouth as you continued to suck him off. You couldn't ignore the throbbing between your thighs anymore so you reached down, spreading your thighs as you rubbed at your clit. You heard him let out a small gasp.

"Touching yourself for me, baby?" You nodded, shivering at the pet name. God this was probably the hottest thing you'd ever done with anyone, and he wasn't even inside you.

"Mhm."

"Why don't you fuck yourself on your fingers, hm? You look pretty fucking desperate... so worked up over sucking my cock... Been a while since I've had someone as eager as you." He sighed, and you moaned around him, letting him fuck into your throat. God, it felt so fucking good to be used by him.

"That's it, baby. Fuck yourself faster, I know you can." He said, and you nodded, fucking your fingers in and out faster as you swirled your tongue around his cock again, making him jump.

"You sound fucking pathetic, Jesus... thank god you forgot your key." He gasped, and you nodded, reaching up to slide your hand up his chest, shivering at the feeling of his skin. He groaned above you, placing his hand over yours.

"I'm getting close... Fuck, I'm gonna cum." He groaned, and you trembled, feeling yourself reaching the edge too. God, you wanted to taste him.

"Mmm..."

"I'm gonna cum down your throat, baby. Gonna take it all?" He asked, his voice getting a little more gruff as his hips began snapping up, making you gag around him.

"Mhm." You let go, your thighs trembling around your hand as you tried to focus on taking his cum while working yourself down "Mmph!" You gasped, slumping onto his lap as you continued letting him fuck your throat.

"Oh... Fuck..." He stilled, pushing your head all the way down again, cumming down your throat. "Swallow it. Swallow. Good girl." He said as he pulled away, tracing a finger under your lips.

"Fuck, that was so hot... Seriously, Jamie." You sighed, standing up before you let him pull you back down on top of him.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah..." He brought his hand between your thighs, but you winced and batted it away. That'd been intense enough. "Mmm... too sensitive right now. And I know you're tired, old man." You joked, and his mouth dropped open in mock offense.

"You've got such a mouth on you." He looked you up and down and sighed, shaking his head. "God, I really wanted to be able to fuck you tonight..." He sighed, and you nodded. That would've crossed two things off your bucket list.

"Yeah, me too... got a little carried away though, didn't we?" You asked, and he smirked, pulling you down into a lingering kiss.

"Tell you what, you can ride my cock in the morning, I know you're dying to take it." He mumbled.

"Tired already?" You asked, and he shoved you lightly, opening one eye to glare at you.

"Leave me be, I've got work in the morning." James muttered, his voice filling with the sound of sleep. You nodded and sat up, searching for the shirt he'd given you on the floor, pulling it over your head before you stood up, pressing a kiss to his hairline.

"Okay." You whispered, and he caught your arm before you could leave, squinting up at you.

"Where are you going?" He asked, and you jerked your head toward the door. To the bed he'd told you to sleep in, obviously.

"Guest room?" You asked, and he grunted, furrowing his brows as he easily yanked you back into bed beside him, wrapping an arm tightly around your body.

"Sleep here. With me." He murmured, and you smiled to yourself, wiggling close against him, feeling the strength of him surrounding you.