#rockstar!james potter

[moonstruckme]

hayy!! so tonight i went to a small little show that my friend was doing with his band, and me and the bassist made crazy eye contact while he sang the lyrics “good, i’m proud of you” to me. (i’m dead) ANYWAYY it made me think, this is kinda out there but maybe a james potter band au?? like he’s a drummer or bassist and you keep making crazy eye contact and the tension is THICK.. (maybe even some groupie activity later??) IDKK i’d love to see youre interpretation 😋 or even just to chat about it!!! i love you’re work sm

That sounds so fun babe! Thanks for sharing omg <3

cw: bar

rockstar!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

As much as you like Marlene, you’d sort of thought her band was going to be shitty. And in your defense, most of the ones who play this venue, where the crowd is typically too drunk to care what sound fills the space and it only costs a few quid to get in, are pretty amateurish. They’ll play their one or two original songs, then fill the rest of their time with covers, trying all the while to figure out how to work the stage and engage the crowd. 

These guys definitely don’t seem like amateurs. 

Marlene had said they were just starting out, but you don’t believe it. She, as you expected, is incredible. She embodies this fierce, uncaring kind of cool, fingers sliding up and down the neck of her electric guitar with skill you didn’t know she had. The guys in the band aren’t half bad either. The singer has a voice that seems always on the edge of a scream, and he and Marlene play off each other’s energy, him occasionally leaning the mic her way to belt something together. The bassist seems a bit aloof, long fingers moving with an almost lazy dexterity, which seems to be driving the people clustered at the edge of the stage even madder than they might be if he paid them any attention. And the drummer…

Perhaps you’re partial to the drummer because he doesn’t seem like he’s trying to be cool at all. There’s something completely uninhibited about him that lights something in your chest and sends a buzz of excitement through the room, like you’re all feeding off his energy. He looks like he’s having the time of his life. Sweat shines brilliantly on his dusky skin and drips off the ends of curly brown hair that’s just long enough to flop into his eyes. Someone threw him a headband earlier in the show seemingly to help prevent this, so now he’s got it pushed back, curls protruding his head and bouncing as he bobs enthusiastically to the beat. A smile splits his face as he launches into a brief solo, and coincidentally your stomach erupts in butterflies at precisely the same time. 

You’re thinking of trying to jostle your way up to the barricade when the drummer’s eyes take another skim of the crowd, and this time they catch on you. Your heart stutters. A tall figure moves in front of you, obscuring your view of the stage, and when they pass the drummer’s still looking at you. And holy shit. This is eye contact. You’re not totally sure how well he can see you what with the lighting in here, but it feels like his eyes are looking right into yours and saying Hello, nice to meet you. 

A few seconds more and he has to tear his attention away as they go back into the chorus, but your eyes keep finding each other’s. It feels more intimate than it probably should, with several meters of distance between you and the crowded, raucous atmosphere, but you can’t help the giddy lightness that accumulates in your chest over the course of the set. 

During what the singer says will be their last song, his gaze flicks to you with something different in it. It’s not something you can place, but in the next second it’s gone, and all his attention is on his drum solo. You cheer with the rest of the audience as drumsticks fly, almost too quick to see, over the drums and cymbals, and you’re so caught up it takes you a second too long to realize one of them actually is flying. 

Your hands flinch up in front of you just in time, protecting your face and fumbling the drumstick nearly to the ground before you catch it. You look back towards the drummer, and his eyes have flared with alarm. 

“Sorry,” he shouts over the screeching of guitars, earning a glare from the singer a second before all sound cuts out. 

Marlene takes the mic, announcing that they’re done performing for the night but will be available to receive free drinks until closing. The band starts to pack up and leave the stage. 

The crowd splits in two, one half migrating towards the bar and the other towards the exits. You’re not quite sure where to go. You want to meet up with Marlene, maybe give her the drumstick to pass along to her bandmate and thank her for inviting you before you head home, but you’re not bold enough to venture backstage. You cast a glance toward the bar, twirling the wooden stick absentmindedly between your fingers. Maybe you can find a seat to wait for her? 

“You’re not bad at that.” 

You turn, and the drummer from the band is standing behind you. 

“Oh.” You glance down at the drumstick in your hand, feeling a bit silly as you hold it out. “Thanks. Here you go.” 

“Thank you.” His eyes are even better close up. He’s put on glasses, magnifying the warm brown of his irises and the thick, dark lashes that nearly brush his lenses when he blinks. “You looked like you’d be a better catcher.” 

You laugh. “Not sure what would make you think that.” 

“Well, you did manage it in the end.” He smiles. It’s charming with a touch of roguishness, and you get the impression he’s someone accustomed to being forgiven. “Sorry for almost hitting you in the face.” 

You shrug, suddenly unsure what you usually do with your hands. “It happens,” you say. “I don’t take it personally when musicians lose their instruments in my direction.” 

“Oh, well I wasn’t trying to lob it at your head, but tossing it your way wasn’t an accident.” 

Something funny happens in your gut. “It wasn’t?” 

His grin spreads and he shakes his head. “I figured it was my best shot at getting a chance to meet you.” 

Your face heats. You hope you’re not smiling as big as it feels like you are. “You could’ve just asked Marlene,” you say. “No need to throw things.” 

He laughs, a warm and hearty sound. “I’ll have to refine my methods,” he replies. “I’m James.” 

You tell him your name in turn, and he gets this look on his face like it’s the best thing he’s heard all night. 

“Do you wanna join us at the bar for free drinks?” he asks, taking out the headband and ruffling his hair so his curls bounce onto his forehead. It’s more than a little distracting. “I’m sure Marls would love for you to stay.” 

“I…” You glance towards the bar. “I’m pretty sure the free drinks are just for people in the band, no?” 

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” He waves you off, taking your hand and leading you towards the bar. “You won’t be paying regardless. Just tell me what you like.”

[luveline]

Hey! Can you do something for rockstar!james x photographer!reader??

for you!!

You're standing behind a barricade and it's so fucking cold you could cry, but you have a job to do and no time to go back and get your jacket. Your arms are tired with the fatigue that comes with carrying your camera and its expensive lens around all day. 

At least you'll be paid well. And you get to see celebrities for the evening, picture perfect, handsome and gorgeous and famous enough that your breath catches when they stop for photos no matter how many times you've photographed some of them before. 

"Sirius!" The photographer next to you calls. "This way! Smile for us!" 

You follow the shouting and wait for the face connected to the name to smile. Sirius Black, front man of potentially the most famous indie band in Britain currently, poses without really posing. He's effortless. 

James Potter walks beside him. He seems more genuine, which isn't to say Sirius Black is fake, but James smiles at the photographers like he knows them. His gaze locks in on you for a second and you can't help the schoolgirl chills that race down your spine. He's breathtakingly handsome, brown skin glowing under the bright lights above, his hair glossy and curled as if each individual ringlet has been held and twisted in the hand of an angel. He's ridiculous in how pretty he is, truly.

Without thinking, you say something unlike yourself. Photographers are allowed to compliment the people they're shooting, but it feels clumsy on your tongue. "Hey, James," you call, not too loudly, almost hoping it'll get lost in the crowd, "smile for Getty, handsome." 

James doesn't hesitate to turn to you and smile. You take a photo, not your best, and drop your camera away from your eye. You give him your most genuine smile, hoping he thinks you're pretty (stupidly) while knowing you look ragged. 

"Thank you," you say. 

"You're welcome," James says, making a small hand gesture to Sirius. He approaches you, to the annoyance of the other photographers. "Hey, we've met before, haven't we?" 

"Yeah, we have, I take photos at all the events like this one. Where's Mr. Lupin?" 

"Mr. Lupin?" he asks, smiling. "Mr. Lupin's ill. He'll be alright." 

"It feels strange to call you by your first name, not knowing you." 

"You just called me James. And handsome, if I heard correctly." 

Your heart amps suddenly into racing speeds, as though only now realising that you're having a conversation with James Potter, and that he's grinning at you like you're friends, or better. "Sorry," you say. 

"So you take it back?" he asks, smile wavering. 

"Of course not, you're more than handsome, I– but I– I'm not trying to cat-call you." 

James' pretty smile moves back into place. He pushes his glasses back up the length of his strong nose with his marriage finger, and the blazer he wears bulges against his arm muscles from the movement. Your hands start to shake —you're a photographer, meant to take photos, not interview the talent. You have no idea what to say to him, worse, you've no idea why he's talking to you. 

"Are you cold?" he asks worriedly. 

"Wha– no, not really," you say. 

"Are you sure? You can have my jacket, shortcake, it's no trouble."

"It is trouble? You're about to be on TV," you say. 

James shoves his hands into his pockets. "I can sacrifice my TV appearances for the sake of a very cold looking, very pretty girl. It's selfish, really," he reassures you, "I like being complimented. I want you at the next event to do that again, not in hospital recovering from hypothermia." 

"James, can you stop flirting for five minutes?" Sirius asks. 

James nods at you apologetically and you take it for a farewell, catching up with his bandmate to ascend the stairs into the venue. The night moves forward slowly, taking photos of more celebrities, none as handsome and flirty. You're stopped short by a man in a tuxedo who looks like the servers from inside the show.

"Hi, this is for you," he says. 

You frown. "Are you sure?" 

"I was told to give it to the cold-looking photographer with a blue lanyard. You look cold." 

It's a hoodie. It's Marauders merchandise, a black hoodie in your size with a monogrammed drum set over the breast. You slip into it and worry it's a consolation present; maybe he'd thought you were a fan. 

It's not until you slip your icy fingers into the pockets and pull out a slip of paper you realise otherwise. 

Gorgeous, shivering photographer, 

Please ring me. I'm not above begging. I'd really like to see that photo. Love, James. 

P.S. I'm not kidding, (unless you don't really think I'm handsome and were extending some professional chivalry as Sirius thinks, then please ignore this) call me! :3 <3 

Your hands shake for the rest of the evening, despite the warmth of your new hoodie.

[suugarbabe]

Rockstar!Sirius Black has me in a chokehold. I’m obsessed with my wife @finalgirllx and thankful for the work she put in for me for these two edits and I hope everyone is pulling their hair out at them as much as me.

This little blurb is for my second wife @thatdammchickennugget ‘s hogmarch challenge.

Prompt: fire whiskey / are you speaking parseltongue or am I really that drunk

Warnings: fluff; mentions of bar/drinking;

You don’t really know how you got here. At this party that is. One day your muggle friend is begging you to come to a concert with her. Two weeks later she has you sleeping on a side-walk waiting to get in. “I really want to get barricade,” she says. And you love her so you comply. When you manage to get it, you’re just as shocked as she is. Arms crossed on the bar, elbows hanging over the barricade as music plays from the speakers while everyone waits for the band to appear.

You assume it’s a four person group; you see a drum set, a keyboard, a guitar with a mic stand and a bass guitar. You’re wracking your brain for the name of the band, your friends mentioned it probably a million times in the last hour alone but you’ve been so focused on not a Avada-ing any of the other millions of girls around who seem to want to keep pushing against your back to get closer to whoever this band seems to be.

It’s when the curtain falls that your heart nearly stops. It had to be a coincidence, right? The fact that this band happens to have the same name as the infamous group of pranking boys from your school years. But all your nervous fears are confirmed when they start strolling on to the stage, you recognize the others in an instant, but the one that catches your eye most intensely slings the guitar over his shoulder, a shit eating smirk gracing his lips as his tucks his hair behind his ear.

“Blimey, what a turn out, yeah lads?” The guitarist turns slightly where he stands, glancing at his friends behind him who are all nodding and shouting, pumping their fists in the air with the screams of fans in front of them. The guitarist turns back towards the crowd, eyes scanning over the sea of people until they come to the front and lock with yours. Your friend besides you starts shaking with giddy excitement as he speaks his next words into the mic, her arm hooking with yours. But you can’t tear your eyes away from his piercing gaze, “In case any of you’ve forgotten, we’re The Marauders and-”

Being barricade had its benefits because you heard the drummer shout, “Oi, Pads, get on with it, will ya, let’s give em a show, yeah?” Sirius laughs into the mic and your thrust back to being seventeen and pining after the long haired boy at the back of your advanced potions class. “Alright, Prongs, don’t lose yer head, mate. Who’s ready to fucking rock out?” Sirius strummed his guitar and the crowd erupted in cheers and screams. The entire concert was a bit of a blur. One because you didn’t know any of their songs, but two because it seemed like any time Sirius looked towards the front of the crowd, he looked right at you, and your friends and the girls surrounding you seemed to lose their mind at the concept.

When the concert finally ended you watched your old classmates take in the cheers and praise. James threw both his drumsticks into the crowd, Remus tossed a few picks as well. Reggie stepped from behind the keyboard, taking his setlist with him and passing it to the security guard to give to a random girl. Sirius, however, seemed to have a different plan. The girls around you seemed to be panting with anticipation as Sirius took a marker from a stage hand and laid down on his stomach, pulling the cap from the marker with his teeth before writing on his setlist on the ground. Capping the pen, he pulled the setlist off the ground slowly, folding the tape over the edges before folding the setlist into fours.

What really made everyone around you go into a frenzy was Sirius jumping down from the stage and walking straight up to you at barricade and holding the paper towards you with a smile. “Here,” Sirius grabbed your wrist, placing the folded setlist into your hand, “open it when you leave the venue. Was nice seeing you again, love. S’been too long since the last time.” Sirius then turned his attention to the people around you, shaking hands and signing a few autographs but it all sounded muffled to yours ears as it seemed like all the blood was rushing to your head as you were rushing out of the crowd, you friend close behind.

“Uhm, hello? Are you gonna tell me what the fuck that was back there?” You were walking as fast as you could without sprinting, your friend hot on your heels. “Y/n/n!” You turned abruptly to face her, her stopping roughly in her tracks. “What!” You were nearly screaming before taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry, erm, I’m sorry. I just…I haven’t seen those guys in a long time and it was just a little…overwhelming.” Your friend nodded, the grin never leaving her face, “How do you even know them, can we open the letter now, what does it say?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the note from your pocket. Unfolding it you finally answered her questions, “We went to school together, believe it or not they were very popular and I was…well…not. I had a few classes with the others and well Sirius was…friends with some of my friends, let’s say. Honestly I didn’t even expect him to recognize me once I realized they were the band we were seeing and…” your thoughts and words seem to die on your lips as your eyes scanned the setlist in your hands, Sirius’s sloppy scrawl strewn across in black marker. Your friend raised her eyebrows impatiently, turning your hands towards her so she could see what had you at such a loss, a gasp leaving her as she did so. “Is that a fucking address…”

So maybe you did know how you got to this party, your friend begging and pleading until you agreed to go. “It’s only polite, he did invite you after all,” she had said. You knew her agenda was more so to gain an opportunity to see the boys up close, so you didn’t argue when as soon as you entered the private bar she immediately went on the hunt. You, on the other hand, went straight for a drink, or two, or four. You were working on yet another firewhiskey when a rough voice spoke your last name from behind you. Turning around, you attempted to control your blush, “Black. Long time no see.” You did your best to keep your tone casual, like your heart wasn’t beating out of your chest.

Per expected Sirius was nothing but charming and smooth, “I didn’t expect to see a friend in the crowd tonight, you caught me slightly off guard I have to admit.” You clasped onto your drink with both hands, hoping the coolness of the glass would offset the heat that was rapidly spreading through your body, “You consider us friends? I didn’t even think you’d recognize me.” Sirius’s gaze turned what you could only describe as tender, “I would’ve failed Advanced Charms if you hadn’t put up with me for two whole terms. If spending endless weeks in the library didn’t make us friends, what then developed between us, nothing?”

No, just my raging school girl crush on you is all. You shook your head, mouth opening and slightly stammering, no explanation coming to mind. “Pads, you’re not scaring y/n/n away are you? Gonna make us not see her for another three years again?” Sirius huffed a slightly annoyed breath, “Yeah, Moony, the reason we haven’t seen her is strictly my fault, not that our band took off or anything.” Sirius jabs a thumb over his shoulder as he glances back at you as if to say, the nerve of this guy. “She didn’t even think I’d recognize her, or considered us friends! Can you believe that?”

The taller boy greeted you with a warm and familiar smile, the scar stretching over his top lip thinning with the action, “Well I certainly don’t blame her for the latter. But we’re still friends, aren’t we, dove?” Remus took a step forward, wrapping you in a tight and friendly embrace. “Hi, Rem,” you mumbled just loud enough over the bar music. Remus was gruffly pulled away from you to reveal a pouting face with glasses and a mop of curly hair, “Not consider us friends? Did seven agonizing years of potions together mean absolutely nothing to you?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the dramatics, “Hi, Jamie. ‘ve missed you.” You open your arms for a hug and are quickly embraced in a bear-like squeeze, “Missed you too shortcake. Been too long.” A second body joins your hug from behind, “Yeah, it’s been too long.” James pushes him off before letting you go, “Whydya have to do that Reg, you ambushed my hug.” Regulus opens his mouth to argue when a throat clearing catches all of your guys' attention. You turn to see your friend clearly doing her best not to freak out at the scene before her. You turn the the boys, pushing your friend slightly in front of you, “Guys this is my friend Órlaith. She brought me to your show. Big fan, her. Órlaith, this is Reg, Jamie, Rem and Sirius.”

The four boys all flashed award winning smiles while your friend managed a meek ‘hi’ and a slight wave. “So you didn’t just have classes with them, you were friends with the fucking Marauders,” Órlaith wacked your arm, causing James and Regulus to burst out in laughter. Remus leaned in close to your friend, a hand shielding one side of his mouth while pointing a thumb back at James, “Y/n/n, here actually helped make sure this one graduated on time.” James crossed his arms in mock offense, “Is he talking shite love? Moony, don’t fill her head with lies we’ve only just met.”

Sirius slung his arm over her shoulder, whispering in her ear, “Actually, I’d like to catch up with Y/l/n. You mind if I steal her for a moment? Think you can watch these gits, keep them in line for me while I’m away?” She gave a timid nod and Sirius flashed her his knee weakening grin. Remus shot Sirius a knowing look, one you completely missed as you were too busy focusing on Sirius lacing his fingers in yours and dragging you towards a roped off section of the bar. You tried to will your palm to not be clammy as you downed the last of your drink, setting the glass on a passing table. As Sirius led you up the few steps and past the velvet rope he settled you both down at a table in the corner.

With a wave of his wrist the music and sound of the crowd disappeared. “See? A perfect silencing charm. Wouldn’t have been able to do that without your help in years past, friend,” Sirius emphasized the last word, wiggling his eyebrows. You laughed slightly, eyes rolling, “Yes, I’m very proud of you. However, that hasn’t stopped the gaggle of girls staring at us.” You motioned toward at least four women you could see clearly shooting daggers your way at a private talk with the leading man. Sirius shrugged his shoulders, eyes never leaving your direction, “I don’t care about them, my focus is on you.”

Your face seemed to stay in a permanent state of blush with Sirius’s full attention solely on you. “Now tell me, sweetheart. Did you really not consider us friends all those years? I mean, I thought we were pretty close. If I recall we’ve drunkenly fallen asleep on a few couches and floors together. Who else does that besides very good friends?” You nervously summon a drink before you, taking the glass and trying to hide half your face behind it while you take a long gulp. Your eyes scan over Sirius’s face, taking in the changes, or lack thereof, from the last time you saw him.

He still has that same boyish charm, that grin the tends to sneak onto his face when he knows he’s being charming. His hair is still gorgeous, long and flowing, though maybe slightly greasier than your school years, but you’re sure that’s part of his rockstar aesthetic. His forearms now adorn multiple tattoos and from what you know of Sirius there’s probably more hidden elsewhere. He had a few more piercings now, and his jawline was more refined now that he was no longer a teenager, but what remained exactly the same was always your favorite part of him; his eyes.

Sirius always had the most captivating eyes; a deep russet brown that seemed to change with his mood and whether he was telling the truth or not. Either that or you had just spent so much time staring at him you began to figure out his tells without anyone else realizing. “You’re telling the truth, you really considered us good friends didn’t you?” Sirius laughed lightly, looking down at his lap before meeting your eyes once more, “Yes, I’m telling the truth.” You shook your head, “That wasn’t a question, it was a statement, I can tell when you’re lying. I just can’t believe you’re being serious.”

“Well I’m always Sirius, darling.” You rolled your eyes at his favorite pun, going to bring your drink back to your lips. Sirius, however, had other plans, stealing to glass from your hands and downing the rest himself. You opened your mouth to scold him but he got his words out first, “How can you – blimey, love no mixer really? Merlin’s fucking beard – how can you tell when I’m lying? I like to think I’m quite subtle at hiding the truth.” You sat up a bit straighter, tucking your legs underneath you on the couch. Normally you would never admit anything, especially not to Sirius himself, but your filter seemed to be turned off thanks to the many firewhiskey’s now running through your system.

You leaned your elbow on the back of the couch, facing Sirius now with your head resting against your fist, “Your eyes turn a shade or two darker when you’re lying. Normally they’re just this beautiful deep brown color that looks like the sun is shining directly on them, even when you’re inside and there’s not even a window in sight. But when you’re lying it’s like all the mischief you’ve got cooking in your brain is overheating and it deepens the color.” If you weren’t feeling so tipsy you probably would’ve noticed the deep blush that spread over Sirius’s cheeks. But being himself he couldn’t let you stop there, “What else have you seemed to notice over the years, huh sweet girl?”

Subconsciously you knew you’d regret it in the morning, but your ability to stop your mouth from rambling seemed to be null. “You tend to chew on your top lip when you’re concentrating, not the entire thing, just one of the corners. You did it tonight during your guitar solo, which was actually pretty fantastic. I'm very proud of you, Siri. And I only noticed you do that because it’s different from other people, usually people bite their bottom lip, but you bite your top,” Sirius touched his top lip with his fingertips as you continued, “And I know when you’re laughing just to be polite and when you’re laughing for real because your fake laugh is this polite little chuckle where you nod your head to make the other person think you’re really paying attention, but your real laugh is so much better. You throw your head back, and your hair falls from your face and it’s real hearty and deep and your smile stays bright for moments afterwards.” You let out a long sigh, your eyes keeping this distance look to them like you were recalling an exact moment for each aspect you just described. “Merlin, I was just so in…I just had the biggest crush on you back then.”

Sirius blinked a few times in disbelief, shaking his head and trying to clear his thoughts because there was definitely no way he heard what he just thought he heard, “I’m sorry, love. Are you speaking parseltongue or am I really that drunk?” You scoffed slightly, “Excuse me?” Sirius quickly held his hands up in defense, “No, no! I just meant that – oh for Godric’s sake, I’m gonna muck this up I just know it–” You grabbed his wrists, effectively stopping his spiraling tangent, “Sirius!” He looked up at you, eyes meeting yours and just like you said, they looked like the sun was hitting them directly despite being in the back corner of a dark bar, “I never needed help with charms.”

Your face contorted in confusion, “Sorry, erm, what?” Sirius closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He opened his eyes once more, making sure you were looking back at him so you would see he was telling the truth, “I never needed help with charms, I would fuck up spells on purpose because I wanted to spend more time with you.” You shook your head, “But Remus said…”

“I lied to Moony,” Sirius cut you off, “Well, I tried to lie to him at first. I told him I was failing and I asked him to ask you to be my tutor but the bloody git knows everything, saying shit like ‘I know you’re at the top of our class Sirius meh meh meh’, so I asked him to lie for me.” You shook your head, “Why would you do that?” Sirius placed his hands on either side of your face, your hands still holding his wrists, “Because I had an insanely huge crush on you that I kept trying to deny and Moony could see it a mile away. I’m surprised you missed it with everything else you seemed to notice.” You smiled at him, a real genuine relaxed smile, then he spoke again, “Past tense probably isn’t the right usage. After seeing you tonight, I can humbly admit that all those feelings are very much still here. You believe me, don’t you?”

Sirius tilted your head up so you were looking directly at him. He widened his eyes dramatically, staring at you intensely and causing you to giggle. You squinted your eyes at him briefly, making it look like you were really studying him, “Hmm..clear as day. Yes, Siri, I believe you.” Sirius let out a long breath, “Thank merlin, because I’ve been dying to do this since I was on stage.” Sirius’s lips met yours with a gentle fervent, intensifying only when you fisted the front of his t-shirt, pulling him harder into you. You pulled apart only when you were short of breath, both panting heavily. “Remus is going to lose his mind,” Sirius chuckled, grin never leaving his face. You glanced over his shoulder, flicking your wrist and breaking the silencing charm only to be met with cheers and whistles so loud they floated over the rustle of the bar, “I think he already has, they all have.” Sirius turned, seeing his friends and bandmates making their way over. He turned back to you, a cheeky grin on his lips, “Okay, kiss me again, just once more before they get here. Once they do I just know James is gonna talk your ear off about the whole thing.” You giggled, biting your bottom lip before grasping the back of his neck, pulling his lips towards yours once more.

[reysdriver]

Behind The Venue | J.P.

(part 1 to this fic) you discover rockstar!james is cheating on you through a fan's social media post — modern!rockstar!james x fem!reader angst

warnings: james being a cheater

words: 1k

warnings: umm just to let y'all know, a lot of my writing is gonna be angst for the time being cus i'm going through a breakup lol and also let me know if you want me to write a part 2 to this cus i can defo see it already

James was currently on tour with the boys; last night was Berlin, tonight was Vienna. Although you both wished you could join them as they visited almost every European capital, you couldn’t leave everything for two months. 

Well, you could. James had made it clear you didn’t need to work, that he would buy you anything you ever needed or wanted, but you didn’t want to be completely dependent on him. So while he travelled all around the continent, you stayed home to wait tables and keep your flat warm. 

But it wasn’t like you were completely away from your boyfriend for the whole time; you called each other every night—even the ones where the boys got blackout drunk in foreign hotels, and you constantly stayed updated on everything regarding the band. 

The little bits of connection were how you found yourself on Austrian social media scouring the hashtags related to The Marauders. You scrolled through selfies of fans in front of the empty stage, waiting for the boys to start. Some people brought posters and gifts for them, which always made you smile. Some of the fans even mentioned you in their posts and you commented on a few of them, wishing them a fun time at the concert. 

Then, you sent James a good luck text and went to make yourself dinner. You’ve learned that the best concert pictures and videos get posted a day or two after they’re taken, so you know you don’t need to stay online all night. Instead, you take your food to the couch and put on a movie while the concert hall in Vienna was electric with excitement. 

Near the end of the second movie of the night, you almost fell asleep in your living room, but your heavy eyelids shot up at the feeling of your phone buzzing shamelessly against your thigh. 

It had been going off periodically before, but the notifications increased exponentially in the last few minutes. 

Although you were half-asleep, you couldn’t just let your phone explode with activity. Scary thoughts that something happened to James at the concert overtook your mind and you quickly reached for your phone while attempting to hope for the best. 

It was about James, just not what you were expecting. Someone had caught a video of your boyfriend making out with Lily Evans, the lead singer of their opening band, outside behind the venue. 

The clip was short but inarguable. That was obviously James and Lily, and there was no debate on what they were doing. 

It showed them quickly, then the teenage girl who took the video flipped the camera to herself and said something in German. The only thing you could understand was your own name, and you weren’t sure you wanted to know what the rest meant. 

The video was just posted, but it was already spreading. There were so many comments and reposts; everyone seemed to have something to say on the matter. 

It ranged from ‘you should take this down, imagine how humiliating it is for (y/n)’ to ‘I mean, we’ve known this was coming lol look at their constant flirting’, and you weren’t sure what hurt more. 

And even though every single take felt like a slap in the face, you kept scrolling through them all. You were careful not to interact with any of them so as to not encourage drama, but it seemed like the fans were doing fine on their own when it came to stirring the pot. Eventually, it just became all too much. You took a screenshot of one post and sent it to James. 

But despite that, you weren’t staying up any longer. You shut off your phone, plugged it in across the room, and started getting ready for bed. You didn’t care if the only other thing to do was cry yourself to sleep, you weren’t spending any more time watching your boyfriend kiss his coworker. 

✦✧✦✧✦

The night barely consisted of sleep. There were periods where you calmed down enough to sleep, but you woke up several times in a pool of emotions. You managed to stay asleep for long enough that you’d be adequately rested, and that was good enough for you. 

When you opened your phone in the morning, you were sure that any limits to messages and mentions must have been hit. So not in the mood to hear anyone else’s opinions on your relationship, you didn’t even bother opening social media. 

You saw that James had sent a string of texts and tried calling you several times, and your heart ached. He was the only person who you would listen to about this, but you didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. What could he say over the phone to fix this? 

Then, as if on cue, your phone vibrated with an incoming call from him. 

You were torn on what you should do. Answer and listen to him begging for forgiveness, decline and ignore everyone? If you answered and he asked for mercy, would you forgive him? You even thought about airing out all his secrets online in a petty act of revenge. But none of those really seemed like something you would want. In this fragile state, you wondered if anything could help. 

Then your attention snapped back to the picture of him on your screen, letting you know he wanted to talk. 

Compromising between all the ideas that had just been running through your head, you declined the call and opened your messages. ‘come back home and we’ll talk.’ was all you sent James before tossing your phone aside.

[morwap]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐈𝐕𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐈𝐌 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 🪷 — FLUFF! send this with a fluffy concept/scenario + an au! and i’ll write blurb for it!

Rockstar james potter coming home and finding you make pottery or crocheting a stag and him wanting to help so he starts "helping " by letting you take his hands and molding the clay or him trying to crochet his own stag by mimicking your movement even the way your tongue sticks out a little

Again congratulations Morgan you deserve it

THANK YOU MY LOVE<3

pottery was your thing when james was gone a lot, it gave you something to do when he wasn’t around and took your mind off him.

you knew james was on his way home, he had texted you he was close to the house but you didn’t check your phone.

he silently opened the door and walked in, he knew where you were, your craft room was the first place he check if you weren’t right beside him.

“darling” he said knocking on the door to your craft room, you turned around and stopped the spinning.

“i’m so happy you’re home, i didn’t know you had gotten here” you said.

“can i help?” james asked, taking a stool and bringing it behind you.

you smiled and got up, moving to the stool behind the one you were sitting on.

you took james’ hands, helping him mold the clay, you giggled as he would press his hands a little too hard.

[sp1rit-realm]

thinking about the marauders performing all the songs on this album.

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

You said you'd stay with us (you swore you'd still be you)

absinthe makes the heart grow fonder - series masterlist here

pairing: poly marauders x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.5k

genre: rockstar au !! fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: drummer reader, some real 'where does the performance end and you begin' vibes, reader smokes, it's inferred that they're also drinking, y'all will have to pry bestie peter from my cold dead hands

a/n: oh uuuuuh more pining more yearning more I'm in love with you but I'm too afraid to make it real. like what if you were all in a band and you were all in love and you were all too scared of fucking it all up to say anything

"You're looking awful glum tonight," James points out as he leans against the railing of the balcony you're on. He doesn't reprimand you for sitting on the railing, but he does frown as he glances down to where the ground is, inching closer to you to place a firm hand on your thigh.

"I called the car around - I'm going back to the hotel. You can let the others know if they notice," you respond in a sigh, the smoke leaving your lungs on the exhale as you bring your cigarette to your lips for another drag.

"…Are you sober right now, love?" James asks, eyeing you carefully. You look at him bemusedly.

"You think I came to a party after our show and… didn't have a single drink?"

"Well…" he says carefully. You narrow your eyes and James grips your thigh a little tighter - a plead for you to hear him out. "You weren't exactly the life of the party tonight, lovely. You disappeared pretty quick. If you have been drinking, that means you've been doing it out here - alone, sitting very precariously on a very high balcony, with no one looking out for you." You've stopped looking at him, keeping your eyes trained on the expansive driveway out front of whoever's house this is. When you see your car pull up, you put out your cigarette easily on the railing before sliding off of it, letting James keep a hand firmly on you, sliding from your thigh up to your waist.

"I don't need a babysitter, James," you say bluntly, but you can't help but soften a bit at the wide, sad eyes he gives you, his bottom lip jutting out slightly. You wonder idly if he realizes he looks at you so often like he's a puppy you've just kicked. "I'll see you tomorrow for rehearsals," you offer gently before you slip away.

In the safety of the backseat of your car, tinted windows blocking out the gaze of the outside world, you let your head lean back against the seat, sighing and closing your eyes as you rub at your temples. The relief is short-lived, however, as the car door is pulled open and James slides into the seat next to you, grinning despite the glare you sent him.

"Didn't really think I'd let you go sit at the hotel sulking all night, did you?" He quips. You bristle.

"I don't sulk," you huff. His smile widens as the car pulls away.

"Sure you don't, sweetheart." He throws an arm around your shoulders and you let him, sighing as you lean against him, resting your head against his chest. "You wanna tell me what's going on?" He asks gently.

"Nothing," is your quick reply. He hums thoughtfully, running a hand through your hair gently.

"Wanna try again?" He's still gentle, a patience seeping from him into you that lulls you as you relax further against him.

"It's just a lot sometimes. I'm tired is all," you admit. James presses a kiss to the crown of your head and your heart does something funny in your chest.

"You're allowed to take a break every now and then, love," he offers. You tense.

"I don't need -"

"No, but you still can," he placates, smoothing his hand over the back of your head as he silently coaxes you into relaxing once more. "I know you don't need to. God knows you'll run on fumes forever and never say a thing about it. But you don't need to - not here, not with us."

James, in all his mother-hen nature, continues to reprimand you in that gentle, caring way of his all the way up to your hotel room, only stopping when you shut yourself in the bathroom and turn the tap on so that you can't hear him. By the time you come out in clothes that are decidedly much more comfortable than what you'd been wearing at the party, he's lounging in your bed and flipping idly through TV channels.

"Oh, sure, make yourself at home," you quip as you flop onto the bed next to him, leaning against the headboard. James grins in that beaming way that he's so fond of, turning the TV volume down to a low, background hum.

"Thanks, love." You scoff at his words.

"Are you planning on staying here all night?" You ask wearily. He pretends to think about it.

"What will you do if I leave?" You shrug, sliding further down in bed and crossing your arms. James opens his mouth to speak and you know he's going to say something about you sulking, so you make a point to wack him with a pillow before he can. He laughs good-naturedly about it, though, so you're not so sure what you've accomplished.

Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, you don't have time to ponder it further before your hotel room door is swinging open and Sirius is flouncing into the room, Remus trailing in after him. You sigh and look at Remus imploringly, but he only shrugs, leaning towards you to squeeze your shoulder in what you're sure is supposed to be comforting before he settles in the armchair next to the bed. Sirius, on the other hand, takes to flopping directly across the bottom of the bed, landing on James's legs and causing some sort of friendly tussle between the two of them.

"This is actually my hotel room, you know," you point out dryly. "How did you even get in here?"

"You gave Peter your spare key," Remus points out.

"Peter doesn't come in unannounced," you shoot back. Sirius and James stop whatever roughhousing they're caught up in so that Sirius can lean over and press a sweaty kiss to your cheek. You click your tongue in annoyance and hope it hides the way your heart flips.

"Cheer up, doll," Sirius says, unperturbed by your scowl. "What were you playing at, anyway? Leaving without telling any of us and thinking we wouldn't notice? Like we wouldn't miss our favourite drummer." You shoot James a look that says you shouldn't have told them and he smiles disarmingly.

"Just because I'm staying in tonight doesn't mean you all have to - and I'm your only drummer, Sirius, in case you've forgotten," you say icily. Sirius smiles, but it's more honest than you're used to, and he reaches across James to smooth a thumb over your cheek quickly before pulling back.

"Could never forget you, love. Not even if I tried." You stare at him, his tone heavier than normal, as Remus shifts and clears his throat.

"Anyway, dove… we just want to make sure you're alright, yea?" He says, and you exhale a breath you didn't know you were holding as the tension dissipates. 

"Everything's fine," you say stubbornly. "I just didn't really feel like being there tonight."

"Well, we can see that," James chimes in. "But you always go to these things. You -"

"I know, I know, ok? I won't - it won't happen like that again, all right?" You huff. "I won't leave like that."

"No, see, I'm not sure you're understanding what Jamie's saying, love," Sirius says, the softness in his voice making your heart drop. It takes a lot for Sirius to be gentle, and he only does it when he thinks he really needs it. "What we're saying is that you don't have to. Pete never goes to the parties - we haven't kicked him out of the band yet, have we?"

"But that's different," you sigh, sitting up straighter. "Pete and I… are different kinds of performers. You know that." Remus leans forward in his chair to put a hand on your knee and you will yourself not to flinch at the contact, not to shy away from the kindness in his eyes that you know he reserves for the people he really loves.

"You don't have to perform here, love," Remus says gently. "You don't have to do that. Not here, not when it's just us." Your bottom lip trembles and you bunch the covers of the bed in your hands.

"Sometimes I think, for you lot, this life is fun… and for me, it's still work. I just can't make myself see it the way you guys do."

"But that's what we're here for," James offers, his voice kind. "Let us help you out. We decided to do this together for a reason, right? You decided to stick with us for a reason."

"I… I did, yea," you say.

"Yea," Sirius repeats. "So let us be here, alright?" Remus rubs his thumb across your knee as the other two look at you expectantly. You smile, a terse, small sort of thing - but it works nonetheless.

"Alright," you sigh. "Together, then."

[edenalix]

I've been reading The Cadence of part-time poets by @motswolo and was really inspired by the overall vibe

[daenysx]

hii, rockstar!reader here, i just love the way you wrote them!!! can i request more pretty please? maybe reader is too sick to perform and has to postpone a show she was really looking foward to? and james tries to cheer her up?

thank you for requesting, i hope you like this one too!! (if you wanna check the first fic i wrote for bodyguard!james x rockstar!reader, it's here, but this is not really a second part so you can read them separately)

bodyguard!james potter x rockstar!reader ♡

"james, i have to."

"tell me your reasons without coughing and i will accept, sweetheart."

this is the third time you try to leave your bed. james disagrees, you act like you can run to the stage and sing your songs like you always do, but well- you can't. you can't even form two sentences without your throat bothering you, endless coughs and teardrops complete the sickness trio.

you are sad, your body hurts and not being on the same side with james doesn't help. you put your head back to your pillow, your eyes are begging to be closed. it's so hard, being betrayed by your own body when you have somewhere else to be.

james stands next to your bed, he has his usual attire. he bends down, reaches the same level as your face. you look at him with sad eyes, hoping he'll do something. he takes your hand in his hand, gives your fingers a comforting squeeze.

"i'm really sorry." james says. "i know how much you wanted to play here."

you can't help a tear rolling down on your cheek. it makes your breathing even harder, you sit up to get some air in your lungs. james is on his knees next to your bed, he wanders a soft hand on your back.

"please, don't cry." he says, he sounds really really upset. "you'll make yourself worse, calm down, angel."

"i hate being sick." you say. he gives you a smile that says he knows. he's your bodyguard, he is always ready to protect you. it's difficult for him to see you unwell when he can't do anything about it.

"okay." james starts, voice determined. he rubs a gentle thumb on your tears to dry them. you are focused on his touch and for a moment you forget what you are doing. "we both should be calm if we want you better as soon as possible."

you nod. he's helping, you should do your part. you can't lift your body from bed but you can at least show him you care about his words.

"you need to eat something before taking your medications." he says as he helps you lie down. "anything you want? we can order soup."

he walks through the room to get the meds doctor gave you. he is moving quickly, thinking quickly like it's an operation for saving you from bad guys. he brings you a clean, thin tank top to change into, you manage to wear it without making it hard for james. he opens the window only for a few minutes to get you some fresh air, fixes your sheets without moving you too much. in these 5 minutes after he offers you food, he fixes the entire room for you without even trying too hard.

when he finally finishes the little things on the list he has on his mind, he finally comes next to you. you motion for him to sit, sadness lingers in your eyes but you do feel better. "thank you, james." you say quietly. "you don't have to-"

"come on, sweetheart." he cuts your sentence with a small smile. "you know i'm not doing all of these only because i'm your bodyguard."

you nod, he holds your hand. he looks at you like you're gonna break, like you are someone precious. he pushes your hair back with his free hand, you can see his gentle eyes through his glasses.

"my voice is terrible." you say, just to change the topic. "it doesn't even feel like my voice."

"there's no way i'd ever think your voice is terrible. you'll be better soon, i promise." he says, he means every word. "you'll have a show here one day."

you try to stay strong. you can handle it. if james says you'll be better, then you have to believe him. you give his fingers a weak squeeze. "so you think my voice is cool?" you ask, james relaxes finally when he hears the teasing tone.

"you now have the deep, scratchy voice of a rockstar, angel. you can give me a little concert after you finish your soup, if you want."

you nod, your mind is too tired and foggy from sickness. james tells you a few soup options after that, and you go with your usual choice. he orders it for you, gives you a cool glass of water when you wait for the food.

your throat finally feels a bit better, you realize it when you wake up from the nap you took after your soup and medications. you can at least swallow without hurting. james is fast asleep on the chair he carried next to your bed, his hand still holds yours. you don't move to let him sleep more, it's uncomfortable for him but he once told you he can sleep at anywhere in any position so you trust his word.

you try to go back to sleep, looking at your hero. you can't help but stroking the back of his hand with you thumb. "do you feel better?" james whispers, already awake but still in his sleeping position.

"yes." you whisper back. "you can sleep next to me if you want. i promise i won't cough on you."

he moves under the darkness of your room. he got rid of his jacket hours ago and he quickly settles down on your bed after he puts his glasses on your nightstand. he's more brave when it's dark, you realize. you like this new progress.

he pulls you to his arms, his chest becomes your new pillow. he holds you closer, until your breathing goes normal. "you can cough anytime you want, angel. i have a good immune system."

you smile against his chest. it's the best sleep you had in weeks when you finally close your eyes.

[ddejavvu]

multiverse monday with rockstar!marauders showing up at their gf's volleyball game and ignoring all the attention they're getting bc theyre only there to support their girl??

today is multiverse monday! send me an au you can think of :)

--

"That's very nice," Sirius nods, a large, vapid smile plastered over his face as his eyes wander over her shoulder, "And- and what's your favorite so- oh, that's my girl!"

The fan he's speaking to glances back to see you high-five your teammate, and Remus's eyes lock onto your shorts where they lay against your thighs. They realize that they're standing in front of Sirius's view, shuffling back to their side of the bench without another word.

Remus feels someone's eyes on him and when he takes a swig of his water bottle, he notices someone staring at him from a few rows down. They pale at being discovered, but he sends them a kind smile, turning back just in time to see you assist in sending the ball sailing over the net and flying just out of reach of one of the opposing team members. They're all out of their seat in seconds, and Sirius lets out a whoop that he's sure deafens the girl beside him.

James's phone is held precariously as he films, trying to keep the camera steady as he lowers himself back into his seat. He's switching between glancing up at you and at your picture on his screen, the smile on his face akin to a proud parent.

"Send that to me," James elbows him, nearly knocking him off-balance.

Remus swats at the back of his head, scoffing and making sure to speak loud enough for the phone to pick up, "Fuckin' twat."

[lovings4turn]

☆ introducing : rockstar!marauders

+ both sfw and nsfw thoughts ; just a messy ramble

rockstar!sirius . . . the lead singer

— sirius knows how to captivate an audience and uses it to his advantage. he makes sure you're front and centre at every show, so he can ensure your eyes never stray from him. any time he sings a particularly flirty or sexual lyric, he's shooting you a wink, making sure everybody in the venue knows exactly who's on his mind at that moment.

— before going on stage, sirius likes to make the most of every minute he has with you. many supply closets have been tainted by sloppy make out sessions, and sirius has had you propped up against a door whilst he fucks into you more times than you can count. once, you were interrupted by james' fist banging against the door, complaining that sirius had to be on in one minute, and to please saving the fucking for after the show.

rockstar!remus . . . the bassist

— remus is quietly confident - he's not as animated as sirius or james, but he's confident in what he does. bobs his head along to the beat, long fingers plucking the baseline that he feels reverberating through his chest. he's got it pretty much mastered, not needing to pay too much attention to where his fingers need to be, which gives him all the more reason to find your eye in the crowd and give you a sly grin.

— when you make the joke that 'bass players do it deeper', he wastes no time in getting you alone. unable to even make it home, he'll have you bent over the dressing table and unable to talk within minutes, his thrusts slow and deep as he mumbles in your ear about how well you're taking him.

rockstar!james . . . the lead guitarist

— james thrives on the reactions he gets from performing a particularly tricky riff, never able to wipe a cocky grin from his face after completing any impressive solos. he's one to strut around the stage as he plays, sometimes bobbing around sirius as he's singing a chorus.

— he uses his skills to his advantage, though, knowing you can never tear your eyes away from his hands whenever he's onstage. makes plenty of jokes about just how talented he is with his fingers, and how they have more uses than travelling up and down a fretboard. he'd be more than happy to show you exactly how well he can use his fingers - all you have to do is ask.

rockstar!regulus . . . the drummer

— regulus enjoys the fact that his kit is always positioned at the back of the stage. it means he pretty much fades away as everyone else focuses on the other members - everyone apart from you, of course. he acts as though you're the only person looking at him, and makes sure that the muscles in his arms flex just enough to be seen from your position in the front row.

— he tries to teach you how to play, once. though thanks to the way his thigh bounces every time he steps on the bass drum pedal, the lesson is soon abandoned in favour of you riding his thigh, head thrown back as he brings you to your orgasm.

[moonstruckme]

In a week-

Hear me out: Rockstar Poly!marauders and Rockstar!reader???? Like, maybe no one knew the marauders was dating reader till they performed together for an event?????

Thanks for requesting lovely!

join the party

rockstar poly!marauders x rockstar!reader ♡ 1k words

The tabloids had started speculating when too many of your tour dates lined up. It’s only natural that you’d end up spending some time together, in the same occupation and occupying the same spheres, so you were seen with each of the boys at various eateries, at afterparties, on the street. The only problem for journalists was, they couldn’t figure out which band member you were dating. 

They were clutching at straws. A picture of you grabbing Remus’ hand to pull him into a store, an interview wherein Sirius had complimented your new single, a zoomed-in video of James carrying four coffees back up to the hotel instead of three. The speculation was all over the place, scattered and nearly baseless. 

Not after tonight. It had been Lily, the Marauders’ manager, who’d had the idea to take this story by the reins. She’d pointed out that fans were only getting more obsessed with the question of which of the boys you were dating, and with both of you releasing new albums soon, it was as good a time as any to capitalize on that interest. Plus, if you did the big reveal before any magazine could figure it out, it’d be your concert that went viral, not their publication. “More press,” she’d said enticingly, “means more people learning your names and listening to your music.” 

You’d thought the boys would be the ones to have qualms. Remus wasn’t the type to enjoy making his private life public (it was more an unfortunate side-effect of his career than a draw) and James always talked about how keeping your relationship a secret made it feel less like they had to share you with everyone else, but in the end, they got on board with Lily’s scheme quickly. You all agreed that someone was going to figure you all out sooner or later, and if your romantic life was going to be broadcast, it may as well be on your own terms. 

Still, that doesn’t mean you’re not nervous. 

“Loosen up, angel,” James says, prodding at your foot with his as you lie on Remus’ chest, picking through his usually well-guarded stash of chocolate. “This is supposed to be fun, remember?” 

“It’s not the show I’m worried about,” you say, rubbing your socked foot along his mindlessly. “I’m excited to play with you guys, I just wish we could do that without everyone making assumptions.” 

Remus hums in agreement, but Sirius makes a derisive sound, turning to look at you from the mirror. His eyeliner is half done, making one eye seem big and dangerous and the other naked. 

“You two are being so dramatic,” he says. “Of course they’re gonna assume, and they’ll be right. That’s the point.” 

You sigh, tipping your head back onto Remus’ shoulder, and he runs his hand up and down your side commiseratively. 

“It’s going to be a great show.” James tries again to lift your foul mood. You try to look less dismal in return. “You and Sirius’ voices go so well together, the crowd will love it.”

“It’s true.” Sirius smirks at you through the mirror. “And later, we’ll go to the afterparty—”

“Do we really have to?” Remus asks.

James looks sympathetic, reaching forward to rub his calf consolingly. “‘Fraid so, love. Lily says the only way to control the narrative is to talk to people after the show. We don’t have to stay the whole time, but we’ll practically be on the clock.”

“Anyway,” Sirius goes on. “We’ll go to the afterparty, and everyone will tell us how cute we are together, and everyone north of the equator will want to be us and fuck us at the same time.” 

You can tell Remus has something to say about that, but before he can, Lily pops her head into the dressing room. “Guys, the opener is finishing up,” she says, eyes lingering on each of your faces assessingly. “Everyone ready?”

“Just a second…yeah,” Sirius says, finishing his perfectly messy eyeliner. “Ready.”

Lily nods before ducking back out, off to go coordinate light technicians or whatever she does in the rush before shows. James offers you and Remus a hand each, hauling you up. You lick your thumb, wiping a bit of chocolate from the side of Remus’ mouth, and he gives you a half-smile of thanks. 

“We got this,” you whisper to him, and he takes your hand, squeezing lightly. 

“I know we do, sweetheart.” 

Sirius is the only one talking as you all make your way to the side of the stage, the crowd cheering loudly as the opening act wraps up their set. 

“Hey.” A hand lands on your shoulder, and you turn to find James attached to it. He’s looking at you with more than the usual pre-show nerves, something more like worry. “Are you really upset about this? We don’t have to go through with it, it’s not too late to tell Lily it’s off.” 

Yes it is, but he’s a sweetheart for saying so. “No, I’m okay,” you promise, reaching up to squeeze his wrist reassuringly. The other band is exiting on the opposite side of the stage, the lights going out. You’re going to be going out there any minute. “I’m excited to perform with you guys, and…and I’m ready to be done with the sneaking around. I’m just nervous, I guess.” 

James slides his hand up from your shoulder to cup your face, your hand still clasped loosely around his wrist. He smooths his thumb over your cheek fondly, eyes gone soft under the faint glaze of adrenaline. “Don’t be, sweetheart. You’re going to do great, and we’ll all be up there together.” He stoops lower so only you can hear him. “Just between us, you and Sirius sound great together, but you can hit notes he never could. They’re gonna love you out there.” 

You grin, and Sirius turns around, eyeing the both of you. “I heard my name,” he says accusingly. “What’re we talking about?”

The lights come back on, and that’s your cue. “Nothing!” you chirp, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the stage. “Let’s go.”

[luveline]

idk if you've done anything like this but maybe a rockstar!james where he introduces his relationship to the world/his fans ?

this was SO FUN tysm for your request! ♥ fem!reader | 1.1k words

James had asked specifically before he did what he did if it was okay. You love him and think it's sweet that he wants to, so you tell him to make sure he uses a good picture. 

Some huge magazine had asked him to do a video for their website. You know vaguely when it gets uploaded because suddenly friends and even acquaintances are texting you repetitively. It's not long after that when The Marauders superfans start requesting to follow your twitter account. You'd set it to private beforehand, though there was nothing of interest there anyways, only retweets and Spotify links. You're glad you did when the notifications start and don't stop. 

You turn off your phone and open up your laptop, navigating to the magazine's website, where the front page boasts your pretty boyfriend's face right at the top. You click the video link and wait for it to load, heartbeat as quick as a mouse's.

The introduction is quick. James sits behind a white table wearing a black, nondescript short-sleeved t-shirt. His fancy watch catches the light as he leans forward. "Hey, I'm James Potter from the rock band The Marauders, and today I'll be showing you guys what's in my bag." 

He picks up a much cleaner version of his rucksack, new for the shoot. His actual rucksack sits at the bottom of your bed. You move your socked feet out of the way so you can compare it to the fraud on screen. It'll be fun to poke fun at him tonight over his lies. 

There's not a lot of guidance to the video. He takes things out one at a time and gives some story behind them. There's a battered pair of drumsticks and a cleaner pair swiftly follows. James goes through them quickly, so a spare is always a good idea. The drumsticks are followed by a piece of drum gum in a plastic case, and a wrist brace for his dicky left arm. 

He pulls out his chapstick with a subtle smirk. 

"And my book," he says, pulling out a messed up paperback. You roll your eyes when you see it because it's not his book at all, it's yours, and he's wrecked it completely. 

A bookmark sticks out about halfway through. "I got this recommended to me by a very pretty girl. Beautiful women seem to always have the best taste in books. I don't have to tell you guys," he says with a wink. He puts the book with everything else he's unveiled so far. "And it's a damn good book." 

You flush warm with pleasure.  

He pulls out some amazingly expensive headphones, an adapter for his electric drum kit, a different pair of noise cancelling headphones, his custom earplugs, his phone charger – again, new for the shoot – and a familiar notebook. 

"This is for everything." He pulls it open to a random page and broadcasts what's clearly not his own handwriting. "I hate transcribing. Remus has done it for me here," he confides. "You have to love him." 

You can imagine the twitter uproar as fans sing the band's bassist's praises. You do have to love Remus, he's an angel, and you'll have to have a word with James about taking advantage of his friend's kindness. 

He turns it to another page. There's a sketch there of a tree you don't really recognise. James draws a lot, more than you could ever keep track of. He's even painted you a landscape or two in heavy gauche before, gifts with awfully sweet dedications on the back. 

He's very good. "For sketching and things. This was a sycamore outside of the Point House arena. It had those helicopter seeds falling from it. You remember when you'd pick those up as a kid and throw them back up into the air?"

The camera person says something and James nods passionately. "Right, we'd have races too! Simpler times." 

It cuts to James pulling out his wallet and his phone. They ask to see his phone wallpaper and he obliges. It's a photo of him and Sirius as kids. They could only be thirteen or fourteen in the photograph, but already Sirius holds his wicked charm like a knife, a sharp smile and a sharper gaze, though his arm around James shoulder is languidly placed. 

"Yep, he's always been like that." 

And finally, his wallet. It's nothing fancy. You can't afford anything as quality as he could himself but he hasn't tried to replace it since you bought it. He peels it open and makes a joke about nobody stealing his identity. 

He smiles wide. "Here's the most important thing in my bag. No, not my card." 

He pulls a piece of white paper from the fold between deft fingers and then turns it to reveal you, a photo of you.

You'll admit you look pretty. There's nothing fanciful to it, just you giving him a soft smile with your hair done up, your head tilting ever so slightly toward your lifted shoulder. 

"This is my girl." He pulls your photo toward him and looks down over the top, no bravado, no charming comment. He smiles at you. "Doesn't she look nice here?" 

The camera person says something again. James looks up, waiting for them to finish before he grins. 

"Yeah, this is my girlfriend. Y/N." 

There's subtitles for the camera person's next question. "This is the first time you've talked about having a partner publicly. Why now?" 

The truth is just the unfortunate consequence of fame. Smear campaigns, hatemail, paparazzi, invasions of privacy. But you can't hide forever. And it feels nice – feels incredible, like your cheeks might bruise from the ache of your smile – to be shown off. 

"'Cos I wanna take her on vacation for our six months, and I want the first photo people see of her to be this one, rather than her drooling on my arm in the airport." 

You laugh. 

"Six months, you've been together?" the camera person asks. 

"And counting. Best six months of my life." 

The interview moves on. There's a few layover shots of the bag's contents. You can't help but feel embarrassed at your face on a clear display next to his wallet, though a binging notification catches your attention before you can pick it apart. 

You click on the notification, an email. It opens, James' voice in the background talking about the new album. 

It's unsurprisingly from loverboy himself. 

Answer your phone!!!!! sent from my iPhone.

You email him back. I've had to turn it off. 

Oh fuck. Are you okay?

You pull the email tab to the side and watch James smile and say goodbye to everyone watching. 

Yeah, I'm perfect. Facetime me?

On you like a rash. 

[remuslovebot]

rockstar!remus with clingy and drunk reader pls pls pls 🫶🫶🫶

of course!!! omg I love this idea

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐑.𝐋

summary : at one of the marauders after parties, you have a little too much to drink.

warnings : not proof read, major fluff

paring: remus lupin x fem!reader

Remus had just performed a sold out concert with his fellow band mates — the Marauders. Now, he was at an after party, filled to the brim with groupies, celebrities, music producers, etc. But he only wanted to find you, to take you home and sleep.

He was exhausted and as much as he loved being famous and well known, Remus enjoyed performing and making music more than going to parties.

The sandy haired boy attempted to find you in the crowd, but alas could not. Where did you go? He thought, turning every corner as if it was a labyrinth. With every part of Sirius’ mansion, more people were in his way.

Meanwhile, Marlene, Dorcas, and Alice had taken you after the concert. The girls wanted to get to the after party as soon as possible. Alice had her hopes up to see the new A-list actor, Frank Longbottom. Marlene and Dorcas, already together and in the music industry themselves, promised to introduce the two.

While Alice was chatting up Frank, and Marlene and Dorcas were busy making out in a broom closet, you had gotten bored and missed Remus. So you indulged in a few drinks.

…

Stepping outside, the cold night air made Remus smile. Inside the house was hot and sticky. He smiled when he spotted you, a red solo cup in your hand. You were laughing and Remus walked towards you.

“Hey love,” he said, a hand going on the small of your back. You turned to him and smiled drunkenly.

“Remus!” You exclaimed, a crooked smile taking over your face. “I missed you so much! I’ve been looking for you since the concert ended!”

The boy could tell that you’d had a few drinks and we’re definitely not sober.

“I’ve been looking for you too Y/n,” he replied. “Want to head home?” He asked.

“No!” You whined, your head dropping. “Wanna stay and play beer pong!” You smiled.

Remus could never say no to you and especially wouldn’t say no to the cute smile you wore at the moment.

“Alright lovie, one round of beer pong and then I’m taking you home,” he said, compromising.

You nodded, it only being fair. “Oh alright,” you said, standing up and almost losing you balance. But not to worry, Remus was there to catch you in an instant.

“Are you sure you can play beer pong like this?” He asked with a little smirk. You pouted and looked a little annoyed. The crinkle on your forehead—that Remus adored — showed.

“Yes. I can play.” You insisted.

One round of beer pong later, you had sobered up some but not entirely. Remus was by your side the entire game, helping you decide which shots to make. Which James wasn’t very happy about, seeing as competitive he was. Frank and Alice were near the table but not big fans of the game, as they were too busy falling in love. James won the game, winning over a kiss from Lily.

At the end of the game you were beat and still a little drunk. You wanted to go home. As you were leaning against Remus for support, he looked down at you.

“I think we should head home love,” he said, grabbing you by the waist and picking you up into his arms. You nudged your head into his neck. “Alright, Remmy,” you mumbled tiredly.

Once in the car, you passed out. Remus laughed to himself at your drunken state, knowing full well you would be hung over in the morning.

“Come on love, we’re home,” he said, unbuckling your seat belt. You woke up, a bit drowsy and super clingy.

“I’m tried Remmy,” you pouted, leaning into his strong body. He wrapped his arms around you and led you into the house.

“We’re going to get you to bed lovie. Promise,” he said, kissing your forehead.

Once at your bedroom, Remus sat you down on your shared bed and helped you into your sleep clothes. He gave you a glass of water aswell. All the while, you reached out for Remus’ touch.

“Wanna hold you,” you pouted, already in your night clothes. Which consisted of one of Remus’ old sweaters and sleep shorts.

Remus undressed himself and hopped into bed just wearing his boxers. He pulled you to him immediately, waisting no time in holding you.

“Well maybe I wanna hold you?” He teased, kissing your hair.

You turned to him and smiled lazily, sleepiness coming over you. “You did so well tonight Remus. Greatest rockstar ever!” You said, kissing his nose.

Remus wrapped you tighter in his arms and kissed your forehead. “Thanks Y/n, performed for you and only you,” he said, looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered to him.

Because you were.

A/n: hoped you liked this! Don’t forget to reblog and like, love you guys 🥹 also I’m slow with fulfilling requests but please still send them, I will get to them i promise <3

[reysdriver]

Rockstar!James Masterlist

✩ - Fluff ☾ - Angst 𖦹 - Smut

♡ - Xena's Favourites

(Main James Masterlist)

Headcanons

Rockstar!James - ✩𖦹♡

Oneshots

Behind The Venue - ☾ - You discover rockstar!james is cheating on you | Part 2: Come Home & We'll Talk - ☾✩♡ - James comes home, begging you to stay

[maraudersmyloves]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

Pairing: James Potter x rockstar!reader

Warnings: The reader is a celebrity flirting with a fan so some power dynamic stuff

Word count: 1.3 k

Disclaimer 1: Everything on this Blog is fiction!!!

Songs in this: Honey (are u coming?) by Maneskin

"Oh God". :☆｡ﾟ. ───

Previous part

You don't think you'll ever get used to the feeling that washes over you the hour before going on stage. It's a weird mix of calm and chaos that's so very distinct to only this Situation. It's doing last sound and outfit checks while panicking trying to find your eyeliner because you all insisted on doing your own make-up and hair. It's smoking a blunt while Dorcas is running around searching for a sticker she wants to put on her microphone before the show. It's hearing the fans get louder in front of the stage and imagining what kind of signs they'll have prepared while trying to get Regulus' earring in. It's Evan and Barty screaming at each other because Evan is sure Barty stole his drumsticks while Pandora and Dorcas try to convince him to just use different ones.

But even that doesn't compare to the last moments before entering the stage. It's eerily quiet. Yes, you can hear the fans screaming but the voices really just fade into each other to form a big white noise machine. You look around to make sure everyone is in their positions while adjusting the height of your micro. Evan on the drums, Barty on the Bass, Dorcas, and Regulus on the guitar, and Pandora standing in front of her keyboard.

In these last moments, you like to focus on one thing and study it to calm yourself. Today it's the microphones. Your's is silver and bedazzled and the only one that's easily removable from its stand since you walk around the most (apart from Barty). On the bottom of it is a little pink heart doodle you drew on the day of the Emeralds' first big concert. Pandora's is light blue with a self made 3D butterfly on it. She made it about a month ago and very proudly showed it off at your next show. Barty and Regulus don't have one, Regulus because he doesn't really like to sing and only does so in about two songs, and Barty because he couldn't keep still and just always sang into others micros anyway. Dorcas has a basic black one or that's what it would be if she didn't slap any stickers she can find on it. The first layer of stickers isn't even visible anymore. Evan is the only one with a headset because leaning out to get to the microphone while playing the drums is too annoying for him.

Through their earpieces, the countdown starts and everything seems to slow down. You can feel the goosebumps overcome your skin and you have to shake yourself once to calm down.

Evan and Pandora sing the first lines before the curtain falls down but you can hear the screams getting louder and a smile tugs at your lip.

"Honey, are you coming?"

Evan's loud scream in unison with the drop of the curtain makes something click and all of a sudden everything is clear. You can see the first few rows and like always you start to scan the audience for someone cute while the guitars are playing. And wouldn't you guess, there he is. Front row and staring at you in awe.

He's cute. Probably about 6'2 with a big muscly figure and messy dark curls. His eyes are like honey and you can't help but return his stare. He smiles like the sun and you know it's over. You feel the need to write a love song right this second but the current song will help too. It's a fun and flirty song mostly written by Dorcas and Barty and you can't help but hold eye contact while singing.

/I know a place downtown, babe, if you wanna go/

You're a bit too breathless for you're liking. Sure there's a hot guy in your audience but that's really not that big of a deal. You see hot people all the time. You worked with models for a few shows, god dammit

Dorcas takes over for a while which might be your saving grace as it allows you to take a deep breath and remind yourself to just flirt, have fun, and don't start anything serious. He's a fan after all.

You wrap both hands around your micro while and sing while looking the hot stranger up and down.

/And if it sounds good for you, baby, just say the word/

/You will li-i-i-i-i-ike it/

You run your hands down your body suggestively, take the micro out of the stand, and walk closer to the edge of the stage finally tearing your eyes off the guy to look at the mass of people in front of you.

You often perform this big but it's still so incredible. You don't think you'll ever get used to the fact that this many people enjoy your music.

/It's five AM/

/We feel so good, it's almost frightening/

You lean down to look at the hot guy again and startle when you realize how close you are. You can see every detail of his face, the little hazel freckles that are splattered across his iris, the beauty mark on his chin, and the little dimples

/I'm made for you, we can't deny it/

You wink at him and smirk when you can see his Adams apple bob down from swallowing.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

James has never been more overwhelmed and confused in his life. He came here planning to spy on his best mate's brother, who from what Sirius told him plays the guitar, he hasn't been able to confirm that yet though because he cannot tear his eyes away from the lead singer. When you made eye contact the first time he could've sworn he died but that could've been a coincidence, stars look at their fans. That's normal.

When you held eye contact while singing several lines and looked him up and down he had to stop himself from fainting.

Then you came towards him and leaned down to look at him up close. And that was it. He is in love. Now, this might be a bit much seeing as he's never spoken to you but then he was never known for his ability to take things slow.

/It's not a one night stand if it turns into two/

Because this stunning girl is looking at him while singing about one-night stands with a spark in her eye as if she wants to fuck him right then and there.

/Oh, I li-i-i-i-i-ike it/

Your voice is a little breathy as you sink down on your knees and he has to take a second to cool himself down. This causes him to finally look at his best mate next to him who is staring at the black haired guitar player. They do look very alike and judging from the look on Pads face this is very hard for him. They both have that sharp bone structure with startling light eyes and black curly hair.

James wants to kick himself for not even thinking about that but he can't when he can see you look at him from the corner of his eyes. It's like his eyes are automatically pulled to you.

/Honey, are you coming?/

it's a loud scream and the music abruptly stops, getting replaced by the booming sound of applause.

You let out a breathless laugh at the sound of this incredibly loud applause and take a moment to close your eyes and let this feeling soke in. You turn around to look at your other band members and are met with a unison look of amazement. This is the last show of the tour and you already kind of miss this.

Then as if on clock word without some sort of sign you all scream, "Hello London!"