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#shirtless james potter
thatmoonspell · 1 month
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The Stag, oil on canvas, 22x28
Happy Birthday to the one and only, pansexual icon James Potter!! 🦌✨ I love this man 💛
Soooo I recently watched Saltburn and it gave me serious brainrot for a hot minute, so it’s a very Saltburn Jamie 😏☀️
*Murder on the Dance Floor intensifies*
I’m a mod in The Strutting Stag, a James-centric discord server! We are having our first ever writing fest currently, The Strutting Slut Fest if you’d like to join, please take a look! Or just come hang out with us, whatever man! ✨
I have a new instagram, where I post my HP fine art paintings 💛
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tiffanytoms · 1 year
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Okay, this bodyguard trope’s too fun. It’s gonna be a 3 chappie story now ☺️
Lily: It’s fine. I’m fine. My crush is manageable.
✨ James guarding her on vacation ✨
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Chapter 2: Baby Bird
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annabtg · 2 years
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Summer is... warm sand slipping through your toes, a vast blue sky over a crystal clear sea, a black-and-white Polaroid camera in your hand... and a fit bloke in floral swimming trunks that walks by just as you snap a picture.
Photo and inspiration credit to Sofia P.!
Read on AO3!
(Completed, 1k words.)
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adharastarlight · 1 year
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Barty, in distress after having a dream about james: and I don't need to see him shirtless! I really really don't!!!
Reg: can I see him shirtless?
Barty:
Evan:
Dorcas:
Pandora:
Reg: ...what?
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constancezin · 1 year
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Late night in the prefect bathroom
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hasturlover · 10 months
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Regulus and Lily loves stealing James' clothes because:
A) they are comfy af
B) both loves watching James doing chores shirtless
James didn't mind getting his clothes stolen because he loves showing off and regulily looks cute with his clothes
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valoflunar · 17 days
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modern au james would be a gym bro
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athenasparrow · 11 months
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For WIP game, number 16 shirtless James 😁
Hi @nerwenn : D This is my @jilychallenge @jilychallenge2023 that is very late! I have shared little peeks before, but never a synopsis!
Premise: Based on Grey's Anatomy Jo & Link. Longtime friends, who live together and raise their kids together, are most definitely not in love, right?
Snippet:
“OH CRAP!”
“You scared the hell out of me!” Lily cried as she returned from her brief flight into the air. 
Oh! He was naked. Very naked. In her shower!
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ginemrys · 2 years
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where we will (we’ll roam)
May Jily Challenge | @jilychallenge
Theme: Sea
Prompt: "You're our prisoner now." "No one will pay for me. How about instead, I join you?"
@ginemrys vs @icy-moons
read below cut or on ao3
major thanks to @practicecourts for beta-reading!
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There never was anything quite like the feel of the wind blowing through one’s hair whilst on the waves. The smell of the salty sea breeze clinging to clothes and the wooden decking of ships. The sound of the crash of water against the side of the hull. The sight of the bright blue sky that blended so beautifully into the horizon where it met the ocean. The taste in the air of that same salted breeze. 
The crew of The Marauder were a jolly bunch. Of course they were thieving murderous pirates, but they also had a thirst for joy and a lust for adventure. Together they set sail under the fluttering of the black flag to find treasures, to loot passing merchants and rich vessels and to above all else, see wonders that few could even dream of. 
“Come on, scurvy dogs!” A commanding voice often called down to the men, the rogues who’s tanned skin glistened as they worked in the rich and sweltering sun. “Put your backs into it!”
Their commander was a slight man, most would ignore his barking requests if not for the glint in his eye, for the quick slash of his sword to those who dared defy the orders he gave. He was every inch a pirate as the rest of them, unafraid to let his long dark locks free from a confining wrap and allow them to be tussled in the wind. 
It was a day like any other, as most tales from the waves tend to go. The sun was hot, blisteringly so. There was not a cloud in the bright blue tropical sky. The waves were calm, the keel of The Marauder slid through them like a hot knife in butter. Many of the men were joking around on deck, keeping an eye on their work whilst enjoying their time. If there was one rule aboard The Marauder, it was to make the most out of life. 
A day like any other, until word reached the ears of the commander that a ship had been spotted in the distance. The faithful lookout, who some of the crew often rumoured had the eyes of a wolf, clambered down the rigging from the crow’s nest to head straight to the commander. And it wasn’t just any ship, he had mentioned. It was a royal gunship, loaded with cannons aplenty and crownsguard to boot. 
Never a ship to back down from a challenge, the crew of The Marauder prepared themselves to fight. She was not a small vessel, their beloved ship, but she certainly paled in comparison to one built for transporting royalty, allowing protection and safe passage for a travelling noble. However, The Marauder and her crew had an advantage. They were smart. 
The black flag bearing the image of a skull above two crossed antlers from a stag was lowered and instead a ripped and shredded Gryffindor national flag was hoisted. One member of the crew stood at the bow, waving a white flag. 
Of course, being a respectable royal vessel, the gunship manoeuvred to sail alongside The Marauder. The small ship was boarded by concerned soldiers wishing to aid decent merchants that had clearly just been ravaged by pirates. Naturally as soon as they stepped on board, blood spilled onto the deck. The pirates had the upper hand, it was almost as though they had been invited aboard. It was a well planned and even more well executed attack.
While highly trained, the crownsguard were not well equipped to handle a sudden and unexpected boarding of pirates. Had The Marauder fired her cannons onto the gunship, she would have been obliterated within minutes. But the captain of The Marauder was clever, and had considered every detail. The Gryffindor royals were known for taking pity on merchants during their tyrannical movement to rid the waters of those opposing their crown. So of course they would instruct their crew to stop and assist those in ‘need’.
The plan had paid off, the gunship had acted exactly as intended and it wasn’t long at all before many of the crownsguard were tied up aboard their own ship. Crewmembers of The Marauder plundered the vessel, discovering riches and jewels. But the prize above any other was a living, breathing member of the royal family. The heir destined to take the throne. 
Naturally the remaining crownsguard were given a ransom note to return to Gryffindor and the King and Queen whilst their beloved child was stowed away below deck aboard The Marauder. Then, arms and pockets full of treasures and loot, the pirates departed, leaving the magnificent ship stranded in the middle of the ocean with no captain and no ‘precious cargo’ to boot. 
For being a royal, the heir to the throne certainly put up a fuss. There was much yelling - though that was soon dealt with via a harsh scrap of fabric being shoved between lips and teeth - plus kicking and struggling against rough rope bonds. 
But one against an entire crew of vicious pirates would never work out in anyone’s favour. So the precious royal was tied to a chair in the hold of the ship while the more superior members of the crew stood back and observed. 
The commander of the ship stepped forwards, eyeing up the beautiful silks and careful preening of the person sitting before him. “My my…” He smirked, his voice almost a sneer as he walked in a long slow circle around the temporary chair-shaped prison that held the pirates’ newest booty. “You are a pretty one, aren’t you?” 
The rough fabric that smelt of stale sweat and salt was tugged from its horrible place between lips, allowing the voice of royalty to finally speak aboard The Marauder. Never before had a voice of such notoriety and high birth ever been heard between the wooden walls of the hold, nor on the deck. “Fuck you.” 
“Oho!” The commander laughed, his sharp grey eyes glinting with a twisted kind of pleasure. “Such ugly words for a pretty royal. You must understand, your highness, you’re our prisoner. And prisoners who are nice and polite to their captors tend to fare better in their situations than those that are rude and who curse. We may be the kind of people you call pirates, but even we have more manners than you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Hair, that was probably once perfectly styled and was now a bird’s nest atop the head of the captive, shifted as the head that it was attached to shook. “You don’t understand, that ransom note you sent my ship with is pointless. My parents hate your kind, they would never pay to get me back, they are far too proud to sink low enough to pay a bounty. Besides, they know I don’t want to rule the kingdom, if I do I shall have to marry into another family to maintain peace between the nations. I’ve been trying to find a way to run for a while. So instead of just killing me, how about I join you? I’d be a good addition to your crew, I can fight, I’m not afraid of dying.”
Silence lay steadily against the creaking wood of the ship. The crew present dared not respond to such a claim from the mouth of someone so respected back in Gryffindor. Even the commander had stilled in his steady circling of the chair. Only one person in the room made a movement, made a sound. 
A solitary figure, concealed by the shadows at the base of the steps that led down from the deck to the hold rose from their seated position. The air around the crew held a reverence for this person, their face concealed thanks to a carefully tilted hat. A hat only worn by one member of a crew. 
The commander stepped back into line, his head bowed as this new figure stepped forwards, still just hidden in the shadows.
“Captain…” 
Hazel met green, the figure’s face lifting just enough to reveal the glint of their eyes and a telling smirk on their lips. 
“How can we trust you to not betray us?” 
Hazel eyes widened in shock, a mouth dropping as realisation and surprise hit all at once. 
“You’re a girl?”
The captain laughed, a soft gentle tinkering laugh that seemed so out of place on a fearsome and cruel ship such as this one.
Captain Lily Evans pulled the hat from her head, letting her long red hair fall around her shoulder in windswept curls. 
“Woman.” 
With a flash, her cutlass was unsheathed from her hip and the golden handle was colliding with the side of Prince James of Gryffindor’s head, knocking him out cold. 
---
James
“Oh look, he’s waking up, Captain.” 
With a deep groan, James’ eyes peeled open. There was a dull throbbing feeling on the side of his head and his vision was blurred. The room he was in, wherever he was, seemed to be moving. There was a horrible churning sensation in his stomach as the room bobbed up and down. Not that he could see much of it. 
Prince James Potter, crown prince and future King of the kingdom of Gryffindor, accomplished swordsman, rumoured ladies man and esteemed member of the royal court only seemed to have one flaw to those that didn’t know him. He was cursed with his father’s unfortunate plight of being blind as a bat. So he had suffered from a young age with the awful task of wearing spectacles. “Glasses,” the court physician, Horace, had proclaimed as though he were claiming ‘Eureka!’ to some exotic new discovery rather than handing the prince two glass lenses held together by a thin twisted wire, “I call them glasses!”
But now, in this tumultuous room gods knew where, James found himself surprisingly glasses-less. Oh how he wished Horace were here now to ease the now pounding throb that beat against the side of his skull with every traitorous heart beat against his ribs. And, not knowing where he was, his heart was beating faster than usual, much thanks to the fear swirling in the pit of his stomach. Fear and nausea. 
Coming back to his senses was a slog. His mind was hazy, his head sore, his body tired. His hand rose from its previously limp position by his side on the uncomfortably hard bed to rest against his unnaturally warm forehead. Another moan slipped from his lips as he struggled to push himself to a seating position, his hand now roaming around him to look for his glasses. 
Instead of finding the expected cold metal frames, his hand landed upon warm skin. A hand that didn’t belong to him pushed his spectacles into his palm and James hurried to tuck them onto his face. 
A woman swam into view as he blinked a few times to adjust to the gift of sight once again. If James wasn’t so aware of the reputation of the captain of The Marauder, perhaps he might have even registered how beautiful she was. Pale skin that was merely sunkissed from the scorching tropical rays, rather than burnt or tanned. Thousands upon thousands of freckles dotted such perfect skin, each small brown mark adding together to make constellations across her nose. And then there were her eyes. Shining and deep emerald green irises, speckled with notes of gold that made him feel warm under the heat of her gaze. Her eyes themselves were like an ocean, an ocean James would be more than willing to drown in. 
Which, given his current situation, was actually quite likely. 
“If you won’t put me to work, at least make my death a quick one.” James said quickly as he angled his body away from hers. He hated himself for enjoying the smirk that graced her lips, hated the way his stomach lurched as another tinkering laugh burst from between them.
“Please, your highness, do you really consider me to be so cruel?”
“I’ve heard of you, Captain Evans, of this ship. Tales of The Marauder made it to the ears of my kingdom, of the crew that would pillage and plunder and leave few remaining to tell the tale.” James said. “I know you can be that cruel.”
“Well, one always likes to make an impression.” Captain Evans smirked again, leaning a little closer to him in her chair. Her hair swung down in front of her and her movement had allowed her billowing white blouse to open slightly, giving James a wonderful view of her cleavage. He really had to fight to maintain eye contact with the captain. “Naturally you understand why I am hesitant to accept your proposition, my kind and yours don’t tend to mix. Water and oil.” 
That was fair enough, the royals would hardly ever wish to consort with pirates. But James was different, he always had been. He wanted out. 
“I know that there’s little I can say that will convince you of my loyalty, my parents are… They are less than sympathetic to your ideals.” James explained slowly, continuing to look her dead in the eye. “But I am not my parents. I hate the royal life, I hate the thought of spending my future chained to a throne and to the hand of a woman I do not love. I mean, be honest, Evans, do I look like I belong in a court?”
She sat back at that, her eyebrow raised. One of her - good lord - leather-clad legs crossed over the other as she leaned against the back of her chair, her eyes appraising him. A finger, embellished with a heavy jewelled ring that was likely stolen from the hand of a dead man, tapped against the wooden frame of her chair. 
“You are betrothed then?” She asked after a few moments of her eyes roaming over his form. 
“What makes you assume that?” He responded, probably too quickly and harshly based on the way her eyes widened slightly. 
“Well, of all the things you just mentioned to me, the part you seem most bitter about is the idea of not marrying for love and instead for the supposed good of the kingdom. So please, indulge me, your highness.” She smiled again, her hand sweeping her long red hair behind her. 
“Yes. You are correct.” James sighed, finally breaking their gaze as his eyes dropped to his hands which now rested atop the blankets that covered his lap. “I am supposed to marry a princess whom I have yet to meet. In fact, the reason I was travelling these oceans, I was… I was heading to our engagement ceremony.”
Evans laughed again, her head tipping back. “Oh, your highness, how painfully fortunate you are that you sailed right into our path.” 
“So…” His eyes shot back to hers again, his mouth suddenly feeling rather dry. “So you’ll allow me to join your crew?”
“Oh, you’ll have to prove yourself to my men,” she responded, “they won’t take kindly to you, many of them have been hounding my lieutenant to murder you in your sleep. We’re not the biggest fans of royalty as I’m sure you are aware. However, I know what it is like to run from expectations, to want a life different to the one you were dealt at birth. Well, I certainly wasn’t born into a life of piracy, was I?”
Her smile was intoxicating, wide and bright. He couldn’t help but smile back as the two of them stared at each other, neither one willing to break the gaze. 
“How do I prove myself then, Captain?”
“Easy, your highness,” Evans grinned, the tip of her tongue darting out to wet her lips, “you’re going to face my lieutenant in a fight. You beat him, then you face me. And believe me, I won’t go easy on you.” 
---
Lily
The jeering of the crew was loud as the two men circled each other on the desk. Both had stripped down to just their breeches, baring their skin to the hot tropical sun. Lily tilted her head to the side from her seat on the steps leading down from the upper deck, her eyes roaming over the prince’s chest. He was fit, she’d give him that. His skin was a deep brown that glistened with a light sheen of sweat in the heat. She knew he would be toned, princes often were due to the intensive training they received in order to prove themselves to the kingdom. 
Her lieutenant, Sirius Black, was an excellent fighter when armed with a blade. He had been close to a master in the art of fencing when the two of them had met, when Lily had still been posing under the guise of a young lad wishing to find his way in the world aboard a different captain’s ship. He was a close friend and an excellent second-in-command. He called the orders and organised the crew while Lily worked behind the scenes on garnering her reputation, creating a name for the fearsome Captain Evans who ruled the seas. A captain most would assume was male. With Sirius by her side, the image of The Marauder was set in stone. 
Explicit rules had been set for the duel on the deck of the ship. No killing. First blood won. Blades could only superficially mar the skin, Lily was unwilling to lose a single member of her crew to something as trivial as entertainment. A contest did not have to end in the loss of a life, skill alone could be determined merely through watching, death was not the answer in her eyes. 
A particularly loud jeer from one of the men appeared to spur the prince on and his blade glinted silver under the sunlight as he slashed towards Sirius, who expertly dodged and stepped out of the way. “You’ll have to do better than that, your highness.” Sirius said mockingly, taking a swing of his own at the prince. But much to everyone (except perhaps Lily’s) surprise, the prince was also skilled enough to avoid the cut of the sword. Instead, steel clashed together, the sound of metal on metal ringing out across the deck.
The fight was on. Finally.
A jab here. A swipe there. Both men panting from exertion as they moved around each other, their battle an elegant but dangerous dance. On and on it went, the sun beating down on all of the people gathered on the deck of the ship. 
It seemed that Sirius had found an equal, someone just as skilled as he in the art of fencing. And Prince James had technique most of the men aboard The Marauder would never have seen before. He had obviously been trained by the best of the best, his choice of movements delicately decided to best counter his opponents. 
A small cry of pain broke the battle, the two men growing to a halt. Everyone turned to witness the captain as she rose from her seat on the steps, walking down and into the circle that had gathered around the makeshift battle grounds on the wooden deck. Her eyes were narrowed as she surveyed the two warriors, the green of them drifting from the heaving chests to the small trail of blood that ran down an arm. Blood that matched that on the blade of the prince. 
“Congratulations, your highness.” She said, not needing to raise her voice to be heard. The crew were silent, watching, waiting. Eager to see what came next. “You bested Mr Black. But… He was only one obstacle. Now…” and her hands tugged at the heavy coat she wore, pulling it from her body and tossing it into the arms of one of her crew. It was soon followed by her hat and her hair was pulled back from her face and tied with an old piece of black ribbon. “Now, you fight me.” 
---
James
The elation that had coursed through James at managing to nick his opponent vanished as soon as Evans drew her sword from its sheath. He knew she had won the position of captain somehow, but he expected that it was from her quick mind and wit rather than her skill in the sword. How could she be better than him? She was small, slight and… Well, loathe him to be so misogynistic but she was a woman. He was the crown prince of Gryffindor, he had to beat her. 
Her lieutenant, Black she had called him, his injured arm freshly wrapped with a bandage to prevent further bleeding, had risen once more. “The same rules apply. No killing, no aid. Skill on skill alone will determine the winner. Don’t underestimate her, your highness.” 
James barely had time to nod at Black before a flash of red and silver came flying at him. He lifted his blade just in time to meet the captain’s halfway. She was fiery, fierce, a whirlwind of energy and sheer terror. He was already exhausted from his previous fight, his whole body screamed at him to rest. All that James could do to hold her off was block her attacks, his stance turning into one of defence. 
Her attacks were an onslaught of what appeared to be pent up rage, her teeth bared and her eyes dark as she advanced on him with hit after hit. Black had been right, James shouldn’t have underestimated this woman. He understood now why she held her crew in such reverence every time she stepped foot on deck. This woman… She was every inch the fearsome pirate captain her name’s reputation had sung about. 
He wouldn’t beat her, he couldn’t. And not because he didn’t want to. He did, with every fibre of his being he wanted to sink to his knees before her and pledge himself to succumb to her every whim, her every command. He knew he would do anything she asked of him. She dominated the mere ground she walked on, who was he to be considered royalty in the place of such a goddess. 
Pain seared through his side as his defence faltered, her blade had made it past his barrier. Blood trickled down his ribs, the wound left in her wake shallow enough to not cause worry, but big enough to cause pain. He dropped in front of her, his knees colliding against the hard wood of the deck. His hands scrambled to press against the wound, his eyes screwed up against the pain. 
If the crew had been loud before, now they sounded like a clap of thunder as they roared for their captain’s victory. Jeers had turned into cheers of jubilation. And James lifted his head and opened his eyes to see his defeat. 
The sun blazed behind her, her red hair shining like a golden halo around her head. Most of it had slipped from the ribbon, fluttering in the sea breeze. 
“Congratulations, your highness.” Evans spoke in a low voice as her coat was once again draped over her shoulders. “Mr Black and Mr Lupin will assign you to your quarters. Now, what is your last name so we know what to call you? You’re not a prince here any longer, not as one of my crew.” 
“Potter.” James responded, his teeth gritted against the pain though a smile of victory won over his lips. “James Potter.”
“Well then, Mr Potter,” his captain grinned, adjusting her hat atop her head, “welcome aboard The Marauder.”
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practicecourts · 2 years
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So @wearingaberetinparis I wanted to share some shirtless James Potter vibes with you (on your birthday 🥳) I love that you’re my partner this month! Xoxo (not sure I will actually have it finished in may though… there is time still- but life is … well it is getting in the way 😆) so enjoy my contribution so far 😘
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theresthesnitch · 2 years
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In light of the lovely playlist that @foreverginevra made me (which is INCREDIBLE – check it out here), how about a snippet that doubles as a Shirtless James Potter May post?
(18+ below the cut please)
She reached out and stopped his fingers from undoing the buttons. "Let me."
James dropped his hands to his side. She swiftly unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it off of his shoulders. She left it tucked into his trousers and his cuffs buttoned, effectively trapping his arms. He made no move to free himself.
Lily pushed up on her toes until her lips met his shoulder. She placed an open-mouthed kiss where his neck curved into his shoulder. "Your shoulders are so fucking sexy."
A bit of surprised laughter came out. "My shoulders?"
"Yeah, shoulders." She nipped and kissed a bit further down his shoulder. "I don't know what it is, but, fuck." Her tongue darted out and traced the slight dip above his clavicle. "I could spend hours just kissing you here.”
James threw his head back and let out a groan as she sucked a bruise into the sensitive skin at the base of his neck. She left a few more across his chest before her hands came to his waist. She slid her hands, fingers splayed, across his abs and around to his back, letting her hands roam the muscles of his back.
Lily retreated a step and pulled his shirt out of his trousers. Leaving his hands trapped in his sleeves, she sank to her knees in front of him and opened his belt and trousers, sliding them down and off his feet, along with his shoes and socks.
She knelt in front of him—fully clothed, while he was wearing only boxers and the shirt dangling from his wrists—and somehow, he never felt less in charge of a situation. He was completely at her will, and there was something about that that made him burn for her.
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annabtg · 2 years
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Purely Coincidental
Summer is almost here, bringing a lot of finals with it.
Namely, the Quidditch final, and the final exams.
Lily Evans only really cares about the latter. She’s a top student, aiming to be Head Girl next year. So far her track record has been impeccable and she has no intention of spoiling it.
Quidditch, on the other hand, carries precious little significance in her life. It brings home some House points, which is nice. And the victories are cause for partying, which isn’t so bad either.
Other than that, though, she has no interest in Quidditch.
And she certainly, most definitely, has no interest in Quidditch players.
Inspired by this piece of gorgeous art and accompanying description by @constancezin, and lovingly dedicated to her!
Read on AO3
Completed, 859 words.
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moonstruckme · 2 months
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Your work has been a great source of joy and relief to me (at last after a day of shitty circumstance i get to thrive in my free time with your witing) and i just want to thank you for that...💗💗💗
But i do also wanna request a jealous reader to james or remus, I'm genuinely curious as to how they'll handle that and what will they do to satiate reader
Thank you, sweetheart! Love you <3
James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 2.1k words
James looks especially sightly today, his brown skin gleaming in the sun and hair stuck slick to his forehead. He’s shirtless, which is always a treat, muscled abdomen sometimes distorted beneath the pool water and sometimes slipping above, inadvertently teasing, and his shoulders look especially strapping with Lily’s pale thighs seated atop them. 
You really like Lily. You’re quite disappointed in yourself, actually, for the hot flash of malice that goes through you when she burrows her manicured fingers in your boyfriend’s hair, laughing about losing her balance. James moves his grip from her knees up to her thighs, promising he’s got her. Something foul and warmish curdles in your gut. 
On the other side of the pool, Sirius and Remus advance like a totem pole with two wildly different faces, one menacing and the other reluctant. They’d asked if you wanted to play chicken, but getting pushed and shoved by Sirius isn’t your idea of a good time. You figured you’d be more content here, sitting on the edge of the pool with your feet kicking idly in the cool water, but now you can see how it does sort of look like a couples activity, Sirius atop Remus’ shoulders and Lily on James’. It’s no secret that James had pined after Lily for years. It was back in their school days, before you met him, but it’s been brought up a few times in a teasing way that’s made it clear to you that everyone knew how he felt about her. You wonder if Lily ever thinks about it. If she’s assured, consciously or not, that she could have him back at any time of her choosing. It’s not something you love to dwell upon. 
The pairs are fairly evenly matched. Sirius fights dirty, splashing water up at Lily and trying to unhook one of her knees from around James’ shoulder, but Remus can’t be bothered to participate and looks like he’d be just as happy to be pushed over and call it done. Lily, meanwhile, isn’t as creative a fighter and is only shoving at Sirius’ shoulders, but James provides a strong base. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of her legs, calling up encouragements and occasionally freeing a hand to pinch upwards at Sirius’ side. Sirius shrieks and swears at this, claiming that it’s against the rules. Eventually, Remus gets tired of supporting his boyfriend’s weight and feigns a fall back into the water. Sirius squawks as he goes down, and Lily and James cheer and high-five before he helps her dismount with far more grace. 
You clap and smile like a good girlfriend. James beams as he swims over to you. Sometimes looking at James’ smile at full capacity is a bit like looking at the sun, and you feel like you need some special glasses to gaze directly at it. This is one of those times. 
He takes your calf in his big hand and leans his cool cheek on your warm knee and makes you feel like the most special girl in the world, and you can’t stop thinking that Lily probably knows this exact feeling. 
You make extra sure to be nice to Lily on your way out later that evening, guilty and vexed with yourself for the way you’ve been thinking about her, and James waves a friendly goodbye to the group as you both step outside. 
Instantly, his arm is around your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth. James was prepared for the nighttime chill, pulling a sweatshirt out of his bag as soon as the sun set, whereas you’re in a tank top and shorts that have grown damp from your swimsuit. You lean into him gratefully. 
“Did you have a good time today?” he asks.
“Mhm.” 
“Yeah?” He tilts his head a bit, looking down at your face. “You seemed a bit off.” 
You shrug. You should’ve expected James would notice. “I guess I just wished I’d participated more.” 
He makes a contemplative humming sound. “You don’t mean that you think people didn’t want you to participate, right? They love you, angel, you know that.” 
“No, I…” You want to say I know, but you’re worried you’ll sound conceited. You never usually second-guess yourself like this around James. You sort of hate it. “I just didn’t realize that if I said no to playing chicken, Lily was going to be your partner instead.” 
He’s quiet for a second. Something in your gut twists uneasily. 
“I thought you liked Lily.” 
“I do.” 
“Are you jealous?” 
“No.” 
You answer without thinking, because whatever you might be feeling right now, you are not a jealous person. You won’t be that kind of girlfriend. The breeze picks up, and goosebumps prickle down your arms, making you shiver.
“Are you cold?” James asks. 
You know he’s going to want to give you his sweatshirt, and you really can’t be taking things from him right now. “I’m alright.” 
“You know you’ve got nothing to worry about with Lily,” he tells you, thumb brushing softly over the skin of your bare shoulder. It should be reassuring, but suddenly you’re thinking about how this same hand looked so comfortable wrapped around Lily’s thigh. You step out from under his arm, crossing your arms as casually as you can against the chill. 
“I’m not worried,” you reply. 
James looks perplexed, and also a little dubious. The thought of him not believing you, even if you are lying, fills you with a burning indignation. 
“I just don’t see why you had to be touching her so much,” you say. “You could’ve looked a bit less eager.” 
He actually laughs at that, but the look on your face stops him quickly. “Sorry, but did you really think I looked eager?” he asks, a little smile still teasing the corners of his lips like you’re a child he has to talk down from a fit. “That’s just part of the game, sweetheart.” 
The way he says it, sweetheart, suddenly feels less affectionate and more like a placation. Condescending. Heat builds behind your eyes, and you realize with horror that you feel like you might actually cry. You’ve never felt so distant from James. Not even when you’d first started dating. 
You pick up your pace, staying ahead to keep him from seeing your face. “You didn’t have to touch her legs so much,” you huff. 
“That’s just how it works!” he laughs, incredulous. 
You roll your eyes, and James lengthens his stride to catch up to you. 
“So let me get this straight,” he says. He sounds more serious than before, which you thought you’d wanted but now you’re not so sure. Your heart trembles. “You wanted me to throw the whole game to just avoid touching my friend’s legs?” 
“She wasn’t always your friend,” you remind him. 
“Yes, she was.”
You don’t know how to respond to that. From a factual standpoint, he’s not wrong, but you know that Lily was more than that in James’ head for quite some time. He can’t boil it down to something so simple. 
The silence stretches out between you, ice-thin and just as cold. Then you shudder again, and James sets a hand on your shoulder. It’s only there for a second before he retracts it, as if unsure what he’s allowed. Your heart throbs. 
“You are cold,” he says, and his tone is doting teetering on the brink of accusatory. He grabs the hem of his sweatshirt. “Here, have—”
“I don’t want your sweatshirt,” you say sharply. 
James pauses. “Why not?” 
“I just don’t.” 
“Sweetheart, you’re cold.” 
“So what?” You cross your arms harder, trying to hide your trembling under the guise of general agitation. “That’s not what we’re talking about.” 
“What are we talking about?” he asks you. “How I let Lily sit on my shoulders as part of a game and now I’ll surely leave you for her?” 
Even as a joke, it stings. “Would you?”
“Of course not!” His hands spread out in front of him, helpless. “What do you want me to do? Should I just never be friends with another girl again?” 
“No, it’s not—it’s not that.” Your eyes burn. You’re frustrated with him for intentionally missing the point, and frustrated with yourself for needing his reassurance in the first place. “I just want to know that you’d pick her over me.” 
“I have!”
“You didn’t pick, James.” Your breathing is starting to sound ragged. The words taste acidic in your mouth. “She picked for you.” 
“Angel, that was ages ago.” James softens his voice, likely hearing the tears in yours. “I don’t see her that way anymore. She was right, we wouldn’t have worked together.” 
“But how can you know that?” Your voice breaks just as a harsh shiver goes through you, and you wrap your arms more tightly around yourself. 
“Alright, that’s enough.” You don’t have to turn around to hear that James has stopped walking behind you, his footsteps halting. Reluctantly, you slow in response but don’t turn around, waiting to see what he’s doing. “Come here.” When you don’t move, his voice hardens into a tone you don’t hear often. “Come here.” 
You turn around, more curious than anything, and James has taken his sweatshirt off. He tugs it over your head before you can say anything. 
“James!” you protest, squirming, but his hold is strong. He manages to wrestle your torso in and get one of your arms into a sleeve before he seems to decide that’s good enough and leaves you be. 
“Quit being so stubborn,” he says, still in that same tone. You stop trying to get the sweatshirt off immediately, hands dropping to your sides. James has never been so stern with you before. You don’t quite know how to react. “You’re freezing, and your hair’s still wet. There’s no sense in suffering through it just because you want to have a row.” 
“I don’t want to,” you tell him, but your words sound petulant even to your own ears. 
“Then listen.” He takes your jaw in hand, setting his eyes on yours. “I do not want to be in a relationship with Lily. I thought I did once, but I don’t anymore.” He waits a second, making sure this sinks in, before his voice softens. “I’m going to be friends with girls. That’s just…that’s the way I’ve always been. But I’m with you because I’m happiest with you, and this isn’t going to work if you don’t trust me.” 
You nod, suddenly flooded with self loathing. A tear skids down your face when you blink. “I’m sorry. It’s not about…I do trust you, I promise. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.” 
“Honey,” James murmurs. The tear lands on his index finger, and his face pinches like it stings. “Listen, if I saw some guy with his hands all over you, I’d—”
“In a bathing suit,” you add tearfully. 
“With his hands all over you in a bathing suit,” he amends, “I’d probably be upset too. But you’ve got to tell me these things, you know? If you’d brought it up at the time, I could’ve told you I don’t feel that way about Lily and maybe you would’ve had a better afternoon.” 
“I didn’t want to be the jealous girlfriend,” you admit. “I really do like Lily, I didn’t mean to accuse either of you of anything.” 
“I think…I think some amount of jealousy has to be normal,” James says, brows bunched pensively even as his finger strokes at your cheek. “We’re each other’s, you know? It’s just letting it get in your head that’s the problem. If you’re thinking I’d pursue someone else while I’m with you, that doesn’t reflect very well on me.” 
You shake your head, leaning away from James’ hand to wipe your nose. “I don’t really. I know you’d be—you’d at least be nice about it. You’d tell me.” 
Pain etches itself into the indent between your boyfriend’s brows. He takes your face between both hands now, looking into your eyes determinedly. “I love you,” he says, bending to press a firm kiss between your brows. “Understand?” 
You wrap your arms around his middle, pushing past his face to tuck your head under his chin. “I love you too.” Your voice is ardent if a bit wobbly, tears that feel more like a reaction to a past fright than anything else still moving sluggishly down your face. “I’m sorry.” 
“It’s forgiven, sweetheart.” James’ big palm comes to rest between your shaking shoulder blades, scrubbing up and down firmly. “Let’s get home, yeah?”
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constancezin · 2 years
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Some wonder why, in the blossoming days of an abnormally warm month of May, Lily Evans - pupil extraordinaire and apple of her teachers' eye - suddenly decides to move her study session from the library to the park.
And if these urgent needs to reconnect with nature happened at the exact same time as the practice days of the Gryffindor quidditch team, it is perfectly due to chance.
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To @mppmaraudergirl and @theresthesnitch who were regretting shirtless jily may
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myriadparacosm · 7 months
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Regulus: Did you know my mother never breastfed me? Which I don't really care for but now I think I can feel the effect of it. The trauma.
Evan: Tragic. Does this concern James Potter passing by us shirtless?
Pandora: James Potter's breasts might be the solution.
Dorcas: Kudos.
Emmeline: If you were never breastfeed and Sirius neither... Do you think he asked Remus to help him with that?
Regulus: Well, he told me I need to nurse my mental health and that's how he got better.
Evan:
Barty: I just remembered I was never breastfed either.
Evan: I have a bad feeling.
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camp - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 348
When Regulus had agreed to go camping with Sirius and his mates, he had not realized what he would be signing up for.
He had anticipated idiocy and ridiculousness and liberal amounts of alcohol. He'd even thought ahead enough to realize that Sirius and Remus would be sharing a tent, which might lead to some very awkward situations. What was more, he'd even taken the time to process how torturous it would be to see James Potter shirtless, swimming at the lake by their camp site. He knew he would have to resist moaning out loud when he saw the way rivulets of water cascade over caramel skin when James dove in to cool himself off.
He was prepared for that.
But he was not prepared when Sirius announced: "Alright, guys! I'm sharing with Remus, Marlene and Dorcas, Lily and Pandora, James and Reggie!"
The announcement made him choke on his own spit. But he should have known- what with Pettigrew coming down with Dragon Pox last-minute, it made sense to put Lily and Pandora in one tent and himself and James in another (rather than the original plan of Lily sharing with Marlene and Dorcas while he shared with Pandora and James and Pettigrew bunked).
But the surprise of the announcement was nothing compared to the surprise Regulus felt when he and James actually retired for the evening.
Even though Regulus (very valiantly, he thought) behaved himself inside the tight space, keeping a foot between his sleeping bag and James's and ignoring the (he assumed) one-sided sexual tension he was feeling by squeezing his eyes shut, James did not seem to get the memo.
Because after a moment, fingertips traced so slowly over Regulus's side he might have thought he was imagining it, if not for the nervous breathing behind him. He gasped and froze, praying that this was real, and James, who seemed to be fighting against his nerves, whispered into the very thick air with a hoarse voice, "Reg? I-"
But Regulus just gathered his courage and rolled over, slotting their bodies and lips together.
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