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writer-of-sorts · 2 years

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written with @wolfstarmicrofic prompt: bucket list

The four marauders came bustling back into their shared dorm. Peter was dripping wet and all of them were puffing from exertion, but they remained as energetic as ever.

“What’s next, lads?” James asked excitedly.

A month before Sirius’ sweet sixteen, James had found a long-lost parchment handwritten by second year Sirius himself, which enlisted all the adventures he had wanted to experience.

Now, on the day of his birthday, they all were determined to subject themselves to every ridiculous exploit from that young, wild, imaginative child’s bucket list.

It was nearing midnight and time was running out. After swimming in the Great Lake, befriending a unicorn from the Forbidden Forest, mass-sending howlers that sang Rebel Rebel to every staff member at the Great Hall, and several other (mis)adventures —the last line of the list stared back at them from the yellowed parchment, engraved in impeccable inky cursive.

Kiss him.

Sirius’ eyes widened ever-so-slightly. The other marauders exchanged baffled glances before James’ loud laughter rang out.

“Oi, Padfoot,” he called, “If you were in love with me all this time, you could’ve just said so, mate.”

“Sod off, tosser,” Sirius hissed, rolling his eyes and shoving James’ shoulder.

James dramatically pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. “You wound me, Paddy. You wound me.”

The pair grinned at each other.

Remus cleared his throat, redirecting their attention. “If it’s not James, then who is he?”

Sirius shrugged, feigning nonchalance and praying to the stars that he wasn’t blushing. “I dunno, Moons,” he said, “It was a long time ago. I’ve forgotten.”

“Well then,” James said, clapping his hands together, “If you can’t remember who the boy is, you can just kiss a random one.”

Sirius considered this. “Yeah, alrigh—“

“Of our choosing.”

That shut Sirius up. “Wh-what?”

James’ trademark grin had stretched unusually wide. “Come on, Pads. We’re your best mates. We’ll choose a proper fit lad for you to kiss. Guaranteed satisfaction.”

Sirius’ eyes drifted over to the other two marauders. Remus had his arms crossed, silent.

In contrast, Peter was nodding so enthusiastically that Sirius was worried his head might snap off.

“Come on, Pads,” the blonde-haired boy echoed, “Guaranteed satisfaction.”

Sirius contemplated his choices. He could back out and leave his childhood bucket list unfinished forever.

Or he could submit to whatever nefarious prank his best friends were planning.

Sirius swallowed. “Yeah, go on then.”

James whooped and high-fived Peter, then immediately turned into business mode. “Okay, who do you fancy? Caradoc? I saw you two together at the Green House last weekend.”

Sirius shook his head. “He was just helping me with herbology.”

“Okay then, Kingsley? He’s a looker. Been eyeing you for a while too.”

Sirius’ mouth pinched at the corner. “Not really into blondes.”

“Oh, right. You prefer brunettes, don’t you?”

“Yep.”

“Curly-haired brunettes?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Curly-haired brunettes with big brown eyes.”

“Yeah…”

“Curly-haired brunettes with big brown eyes and grandpa sweatshirts.”

“Um, Prongs…”

“Curly-haired brunettes with big brown eyes and grandpa sweatshirts and long fingers and poetry obsessions and scars and—“

“Oh, fuck it,” Sirius cursed, before lunging across the room and throwing himself at Remus.

The taller boy let out a surprised gasp at the sudden impact, his hands immediately flying to Sirius’ hips to steady himself.

Sirius’ gaze burned into Remus’.

Their lips collided.

Sirius could faintly hear loud hoots from James and Peter, but they were soon drowned out by the pounding voice in Sirius’ head.

I am kissing him. I am kissing him. I am kissing him.

It might have been seconds. It might have been minutes. But Remus eventually pulled back, gasping, his lips wet with saliva and eyes shining with intimacy.

Sirius had never felt more in love.

Bucket List: complete

#wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #marauders #marauders era #marauders fandom #marauders fanfiction #remus loves sirius #remus lupin #remus x sirius #sirius black #sirius loves remus #sirius x remus #james potter #peter pettigrew #wingman james potter

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iluliluu · 4 months

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ok but a college au where neteyam thinks ao’nung and rotxo are in a relationship but they’re just best friends so he doesn’t make a move meanwhile ao’nung just thinks neteyam isn’t interested

#rotxo is trying his hardest to wingman #everyone is confused #ao’nung tries to make a move and neteyam thinks he’s cheating and gets mad #neteyam x aonung #aonunete #aonung #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam #james cameron avatar #avatar twow #avatar way of water #avatar the way of water #avatar 2022 #avatar cameron

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themarauderswife7 · 6 months

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James: Wow moony, those trousers look great! i bet they would look better on Sirius’s floor

Remus: uh..

Sirius: Did you just hit on Moony for me?

James: well someone had to

#sirius black #james potter #remus lupin #remus and sirius #remus x sirius #wolfstar #James potter the wingman

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loichte · 7 months

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Modern Sherliam met through tinder

#william james moriarty #sherlock holmes #moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #writing #ff #it's a prompt #john is the best wingman

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boxedwinedean · 2 years

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theres something unflinchingly romantic but also disturbingly devoted about faking your death and blowing up your entire life just to give your best friend 5 final months of joy

#and by best friend i mean boyfriend #and by boyfriend i mean wingman #and by wingman i mean best friend etc etc #their relationship cant be summed up by one word or role #they are everything to eachother #house md #hilson #gregory house #james wilson

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fangirl-docintraining · 7 months

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No because hear me out: Jily AU but Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce… with background Wolfstar as well like just picture it with me real quick

#I want to write this but I only got 750 words rn #jily #james potter #lily evans #wolfstar #remus lupin #t swift #hopefully this reaches its target audience idk #I am obsessed with Taylor swift #people already said imagine the Taylor stuff as a book but what about a fanfic #Sirius would be Patrick machines wingman making sure James made a touchdown #mauraders #maurders era

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headlesssamurai · 1 year

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‘‘Just, maybe not pinochle.’’

//the_falcon_and_the_winter_soldier/

#yori nakajima = ultimate wingman #cute #pure #bucky barnes #leah #marvel studios #mcu #winter soldier #i would've paid real money for twenty-six episodes of james trying to heal his trauma and reintegrate into society #missed opportunity #still this scene was wholesome as fuck #i made some GIFs #ken takemoto #miki ishikawa #sebastian stan

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marleneismydopamine · 1 year

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James, whispering to Marlene who’s on the phone with Dorcas: ask them something

Marlene: how are you feeling?

Dorcas: fine

James: something personal

Marlene: at what age did you first get your period?

#marlene trying to move out of the enemies phase in this enemies to lovers:#she’s not succeeding #james would volunteer himself to be marlene’s wingman whether she likes it or not #dorlene #dorcas meadowes #marlene mckinnon #james potter #marauders incorrect quotes #marauders

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pandagirl45 · 3 months

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"Who is that?"

Tony stopped, looked at steve who was talking with clint at the water cooler, "oh, bucky friend."

Rhodey blinked looking at Tony with something akin to betrayal, "you didn't say he was, well handsome."

Tony shrugged, he wasn't dating steve, though he won't deny it, Steve is handsome, "I mean, I'm dating bucky, so I've never notice."

Rhodey blinked slower, feeling heat build on his neck, "yeah but... this is new."

Oh.

OH.

Tony stared in surprise. The last time rhodey had a kernel of interest was back in high-school, that is almost 15 years ago.

"Okay, this is serious, what are going to do head of sales?"

Rhodey covered his face groaning, "I don't know tones. I barely even care to date but... I need to talk to bucky."

"Oh yeah," tony chuckled at his best friend who somehow got bit by the interest bug again, "this is really serious."

#this time rhodey flusters #rhodey saw steve and went oh #he is handsome #tony playing as the wingman #steve rogers #james rhodes #warshield #drabbles

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blitheringmcgonagall · 2 years

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A mix of 31 prompts and microfic prompts…

@jilytoberfest

Prompts 1 & 2

Prompt #3: fire and #4: “I know, but I wanted to”

Sirius Black heaved an irritated sigh.

“For Merlin’s sake, I’m surrounded by incompetent fools!” he muttered to himself.

“Ha! If you think you can undo Prongs’ idiocy when it comes to anything remotely related to Lily Evans - good luck with that!” Peter snorted, downing a contraband lurid cocktail that Mary had concocted. It was supposed to look like a mint milkshake - it reminded Sirius of swamp water - vague rotten egg smell and pond scum colour. It was wonderfully lethal.

“I swear to Circe, if they haven’t gotten their shit together by May, I shall be forced to stage an intervention!” Sirius said, folding his arms.

“Oh? And what kind of intervention would that be?” Remus asked, leaning into him and giving his shoulder a gentle push.

Remus was a bit drunk and much more generous than usual with physical affection, which Sirius deeply appreciated.

“A successful one,” he said in a lofty tone, resting his head against Remus’ own.

“Can’t wait,” Remus hummed.

***

James sat slumped in his seat, hand holding up his head, watching the dancing couples, eyes following a particular fellow Gryffindor - vivid green eyes, cheeky grin, cobalt blue dress twirling.

“She’s never going to go out with you.”

He turned his head slowly.

“Snivellus,” he sighed deeply. “What can I do for you?”

“There’s no point sitting there staring at her like a creep! She hates you.”

He hesitated. Had he actually been staring at her like some weirdo?

Looking up he saw Sirius reaching for his wand, Remus glaring at Snape and Peter’s eyes twitching nervously towards the professors’ table. The problem with friends who happened to have Furry Little Problems or furry alternative selves was that their hearing was too sharp. Minerva McGonagall was looking over at him too, wearing a sour expression, although she couldn’t possibly have heard the conversation?

“Apologies to Evans if I was making her uncomfortable,” he said.

“You don’t care how she feels, you just want to force her to go out with you, you disgust me! You disgust her!”

Sirius Black was on his feet and Remus Lupin had his wand out and McGonagall’s lips were a stern line as she dropped her napkin (was anyone else able to convey such disappointment and authority in such a tiny gesture?)

“For fuck’s sake, shut- “ he growled, feeling his shoulders tense, fingers finding his wand. In another lifetime, say this time last year, he’d have hexed Snape already.

Just then he caught Lily’s eye. She was looking at the with concern, her smile gone and replaced by drawn brows and pursed lips. Poor Evans, imagine having to deal with two stupid, selfish wankers like them…

He breathed out slowly, forcing his shoulders down and placing his hands in the air, a placating gesture.

“Look, Snape, you’re probably right - I’d say I do disgust her. I have no intention of asking her out, alright?”

One side of Snape’s top lip lifted in disgust, but he clearly wasn’t expecting that answer and couldn’t find anything to say. He stood there awkwardly for a moment.

“Can i interest you in a snack? Beetroot crisps? Twice fried chips?” he said.

Snape glared at him suspiciously.

“A glass of butterbeer?”

The thin boy squinted at him. James smiled, all laid back innocence.

“Wondering why I’m offering? I know, but I wanted to.”

“Fuck you, Potter!” he spat out, turning around and marching off in the direction of the Slytherin tables.

“Prick,” James said to himself, knocking back an entire glass of firewhisky.

“Alright Mr Potter?”

McGonagall was looking at him with an unreadable expression. It was difficult to answer when his eyes were watering from the strong alcohol.

“Right as rain. Fit as a charmed fiddle,” he coughed.

“Water, was it?” She asked, sniffing in the direction of the empty bottle.

“Something like that… a liquid, anyhow,” he said, with a sheepish grin as he ruffled his hair.

***

“Oh gods,” groaned Remus, face palming. “I can’t listen to this, it’s too painful.”

“Prongs is a useless liar when he’s drunk,” Peter noted helpfully.

“He’s an out and out idiot at the best of times,” Sirius said, wisely downing the remainder of his drink.

“Bit harsh, Padfoot,” Remus sounded amused.

“No, that’s it. I’ve told him time and time again. I’m not idly standing by while he makes a balls of everything. Tonight takes the biscuit.”

They watched as James moved towards McGonagall, who was muttering under her breath in response to his ineptitude.

“Care to dance, Professor?” they heard Prongs say.

“Smooth,” Peter said.

“Foolish,” Remus said.

McGonagall’s left eyebrow raised. Prongs swayed.

“Perhaps another time, Mr Potter,” she said, not unkindly, patting his shoulder in what could only be described as a consoling manner.

“Right. Another time. When I’m less drunk.”

“Precisely, next year’s Hallowe’en Ball, perhaps.”

James’ mouth gaped.

“Right. Spiffing. Merlin!”

“Holy shit!” Peter squealed.

Sirius was inclined to agree with him.

***

On the first of May, Sirius Black walked into Dumbledore’s office, unannounced.

“Professor, we have a problem,” he said, without preamble, sitting himself down opposite the headmaster’s desk and placing his right foot on his left thigh.

“Good evening, er, Mr Black. How kind of you to call in for a… chat. A problem, you say? May I be of assistance?” Dumbledore asked, periwinkle eyes curious as he reached over for the sweets. “Lemon sherbet?”

Sirius Black shook his head.

“A problem. Of the very irritating, long-standing variety. And I know how to fix it!”

#jily #jilytober2022 fic #jilytoberfest #jilytober2022 #fluff and idiocy #Sirius is the best wingman #james potter is trying #Sneep is a plonker #minerva McGonagall loves the marauders #also she’s an animagus but they don’t know #which she finds endlessly amusing #unlike Sneep #Who is as amusing as a pain in the arse #marauders

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boneblushed · 6 months

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Is it chill that you’re in my head?

synopsis your best friend James isn’t sure why he’s so angry about the fact that you’re going on a date with someone else.

wc 2.6K

“He’s looking over here,” James sings under his breath, his brown eyes full of mirth. He’s balancing on the spindly hind-legs of his library chair, the Potions essay he’s supposed to be doing laid out in disarray.

You send him a reproachful look. “You’re being malicious.” When you turn back around to face Davey Gudgeon’s table, there’s a split second of eye contact before he ducks his head down abashedly, his cheeks a brilliant rouge.

He has a crush on you, apparently. Sirius and Remus had overhead him talking about it on his way down to breakfast this morning—about how prefects rarely escaped unscathed after sharing something as intimate as a Saturday night duty.

James Potter, your best friend and a royal pain in your ass, finds this revelation abso-fucking-lutely hilarious for some reason. Asshole.

“Au contraire,” he murmurs, the grin on his face audible, “I’m being a world class wingman.”

The look on his face is downright dangerous. He waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively, unperturbed by the frown on your own, a warning. Easing forward until each hind-leg finds the ground with a resounding thud, he cups his hands around his mouth, whisper-shouting, “Oi! Gudgeon!”

Davey Gudgeon reddens further, a feat you didn’t think was possible until now. He glances over at James dismally, a furtive expression on his face. “What?” He mouthes, sending you this weak half-smile. It’s sort of sweet, almost contagious. You find yourself smiling back at him on instinct.

“Come over here, you bludger,” James chastises, like that’s the obvious next step. To be fair, it probably is to him — he’s never shied away from flirting with the girls he fancies, a self-proclaimed dating aficionado with way too much chat for his own good.

Davey hesitates, his nervous gaze flitting to you momentarily. He looks as though he wants to do just that, but isn’t sure whether his crush on you is reciprocated. Sweet.

He has gentle eyes, too, pretty juniper with bright specks of burnt ochre. A nice head of brown hair. If it was cold outside, you bet he’d offer you his Quidditch jersey without hesitation.

You think you need sweet, all things considered. You’ve known James Potter all of seven years now, had a wretched crush on him all of five, and never once has he indicated that his aforementioned expertise could ever extend to you.

It’s high-time that you gave your pathetic heart a rest.

“You’re making him miserable,” you mutter, ever-reproachful.

Davey hasn’t moved yet, though you’re sure he wants to, his hands braced on the table in front of him apprehensively. He keeps looking between you and James, surveying his options; in order ease his anguish, you decide you’d better make the decision for him.

You push your chair back and stand up, it’s spindly legs scraping against the vinyl floor forebodingly. James looks up in surprise. “Where r’you going?”

“To Gudgeon’s table.”

“Why?” James urges, perplexed. He half-stands too, his features a smidge less mirthful than before.

“So you’ll stop,” you reply, frowning down at him.

He raises his arms in surrender. “I’m stopping.” A pause. In the beat that passes, his assessing gaze falls over you in paces. “You’re not… you’re not keen on him too, are you?”

You think on this, cocking your head to one side. “I don’t know. Maybe? He’s kinda sweet.”

“But he doesn’t even have the balls to come over here and ask you out properly,” James whisper-shouts, mildly exasperated.

You’ve never once called him sweet.

He’s had this tragic crush on you for all of seven years, and never once has he been on the receiving end of such a fond adjective. He’d only made a fuss over this Davey situation because he was sure it was just a jibe — no way someone like you would be interested in a guy like Gudgeon, no way you would even entertain the possibility of more than friends.

Right?

James wants that more than friends thing with you, bad. This morning, when Sirius’d brought up Bludgeon’s crush on you—sniggering violently—he’d snuck a glance at your features to ensure that it wasn’t reciprocated. He’s sure he’d caught a bit of second-hand embarrassment, though maybe it was actually just tender hearted diffidence. Maybe Davey fucking Gudgeon had something that he somehow didn’t.

Right now, James’d give up his head boy badge and Quidditch captaincy to acquire that something. His chest hurts terribly. He runs his sloven fingers through his unkempt hair, sending you another look of bewilderment.

“Because you’re here,” you reprove. “Course he’s not going to come over when the James Potter is taking the mickey out of him.”

You say his name like it’s an insult. James’ heart plummets. “I’m not — he’s welcome to come over,” he argues quietly, chagrined. “Besides, he’s going to have to get used to me if he wants to be your boyfriend.”

“Why?” You frown. “I always bugger off when you’re with another girl.”

“That’s different,” James insists, frowning in tandem.

“How’s that different?”

They aren’t you, James thinks vaguely. His poor heart blunders for the umpteenth time this afternoon. “None of them are girlfriends.”

“Not for lack of trying,” you mutter. James swears he hears a hint of spite in your tone. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. M’going over.”

James slumps back into his seat reluctantly. He knows that you’re right, begrudging as that revelation may be — he is always flirting with one girl or another, though that’s more so to pass time than anything particularly serious. Never you. You’d see right through him, anyway. Besides, the last time he tried, it’d been so disastrous you’d assumed he was joking.

It’d been at that Halloween party they’d had in the Gryffindor Common Room last year, firewhiskey flowing and sweet treats piled atop every surface.

You were wearing this gorgeous, albeit bemusing, costume of a Muggle someone — Wonder Woman, or something, James didn’t quite understand it. Showing a lot of skin. Your pretty eyes were accented by rouge glitter, lips all glossy, and your exposed limbs and bare waist had eased his heart right into his throat.

And James Potter didn’t often find himself lost for words, but it appeared as though this party was one of those exceptions.

“Woah,” he’d murmured, wolf-whistling lowly. He was in this ridiculous, Babbity Rabbity costume (courtesy of Sirius, who was a cackling pot), feeling entirely out of place when you looked so beautiful. “Christ, Y/N, who’re you meant to be? The hottest muggleborn at Hogwarts or something?”

You’d rolled your eyes then, because no way he was serious. “Don’t tease, James. Did you guys manage to snag any cauldron cakes?”

He’d been too busy to insist his sincerity, fond gaze travelling down your bare limbs, slow. Lingering on the wafer of exposed waist between your corset and skirt. He’s still agonised by the want to touch your soft skin; that wretched Hogwarts shirt tuck has prevented this from happening.

“By the fire,” he’d answered after a beat, dazed.

And when you’d fallen out of earshot, James’ eyes still trained on your figure, Sirius and Remus’d come up behind him, the latter wearing Muggle-manufactured fangs. (Supposedly, he was meant to be a vampire.)

“You’ve got a tragic affliction, James,” Sirius’d tutted under his breath, faux-apologetic. “How’re you somehow able to flirt with every girl in this room except the one that matters?”

“Shut up,” he’d muttered back at the time, though as he thinks back on it now, he realises that Sirius was right.

For some reason, with you, he always manages to say exactly the wrong thing. He watches Davey scramble to straighten as you near his library table, the heat on his neck rising until his entire face is in a flush. And you’re smiling as you sit down beside him, this sweet, unabashed smile that looks too much like feelings reciprocated. Something in James’ ribcage cracks, an ugly emotion springing forth from within it. But he’s immobile, hands on the table and furrow in his brow, agonised by the fact that you’re looking at Davy all fond, not him.

Never him. You ask a question—James is trying his best to lip-read, but it’s difficult not to get carried away staring at your mouth. Davey nods, and then reddens some more. Then you stand up, feelings-reciprocated smile on your face as you walk back over to the table you’re sharing with James.

“He looks pleased,” James mutters grumpily.

You frown. “You don’t.”

“You’re doing charity work,” he answers, ignoring the insinuation. “You know that, right?”

“James,” you sigh, “you’re being unkind.”

“Because he’s punching.” But James knows this is unfair. He’s pretty sure every bloke in Hogwarts would be, if it was you and them.

—

“James,” Sirius calls, bemused. “You coming mate?”

Its autumn in Hogsmeade, and they’ve reached a cross roads.

The path to the left of them leads to the Hog’s Head Inn, one of their favourite haunts in the village due to its relative unpopularity. To the right, where James is glancing furtively, the cobblestone pavement takes them toward the Three Broomsticks. Where you are. With Davey.

Remus shares a knowing look with Sirius. “Think he’s in the mood for one of Rosmerta’s butter-beers, actually.”

James groans, scrubbing his calloused palm down his face slovenly. He knows exactly what he’s insinuating; Remus always has been the most astute of the lot. “Don’t bloody start.”

Sirius grins then, reaching for James and throwing an arm around his neck. “Reckon you’re going to need something stronger than butter-beer if you’re planning on watching Gudgeon snog your girl.”

His heart plummets. There’s that ugly emotion again, rearing its contemptuous head at him. ��Wormtail’s there too,” he tries, shoving Sirius off. “We should go say hi.”

“Oh yes,” Sirius allows, his brown eyes full of mischief. “The one Marauder with a girlfriend. You after some tips, mate?”

“Cut him some slack, Sirius,” Remus chastises, though there isn’t much fire to his tone as he says it. “Reckon he’s miserable enough about the fact that the one time he fancies a girl she isn’t interested.”

James frowns, sending the pair of them a look of determination. “Look, shove off, both of you.” The crease between his eyebrows deepens further, keenly resolute. “I just want to check on her, alright? Make sure that bludger isn’t pulling anything funny.”

“Right.” Sirius nods soberly. “Or snogging her to death.”

“Fuck,” James groans again, his insides squirming. “You’ve gotta stop putting that image in my head.”

He turns toward the path to his right, the cobblestones plush with Autumn leaves, when he spots your figure in the distance and freezes. Coming closer. You look beautiful in this matter-of-fact, effortless way that makes James’ heart stutter; your pretty eyes are alight with mirth as you catch his gaze, this fond smile on your lips that makes him want to kiss you. Bad. He swallows thickly, his chest a pathetic mess.

Sirius and Remus must spot you too, because the pair of them beginning walking backward toward the Hog’s head, their eyebrows raised in tandem.

“She isn’t with the bludger, Prongs,” calls Sirius, a knowing lilt to his tone. “Now’s your chance.”

“My chance?” James asks, distracted.

“To snog her, you idiot.”

But James doesn’t hear him. Partly because the wind’s picked up, mostly because it’s difficult for him to concentrate on anything but your growing closeness.

Once you’re within earshot—more of you to agonise over, exposed waifs of skin like a siren song—he stumbles forward clumsily.

“Y/N,” James breathes out, pleasantly surprised. “Where’s Davey?”

You grimace, looking over your shoulder furtively. “I’ve just escaped him.”

James’ stomach deflates, relief washing over him in waves. He raises his eyebrows playfully. “Escaped?”

“Don’t,” you warn, frowning sternly. “He… he’s alright, really. Just doesn’t really know how to hold a conversation.” You grimace again. “Or take a hint. Like, at all.”

“Yeah? Why’d you say that?”

“Well,” you begin, and then you shiver, moving closer to James without meaning to. “Christ, Potter, you’re a really good wind shield, y’know that?”

“At your service,” he murmurs, inching forward too. “You were saying?”

You gaze up at him, the rough planes of his face ever present, and you’re struck by the revelation that he doesn’t need an old Quidditch jersey to keep you warm. He’s a furnace of body heat and cedar-wood cologne.

“Well,” you continue, voice low, “after two butter beers and absolutely zero chat, I’d sort of assumed that he’d have realised that this just isn’t going to work.”

“But…?”

“But,” you grimace, “he asked me out again.”

The way your features twist as you say it, as though that’s the last thing you want to do, wrings any residual jealousy he may be feeling right out of his stomach. He’s struck by this suddenly, overwhelming urge to caress your jaw and pull you closer.

“And let me guess,” James murmurs, grinning fondly. “You said yes.”

“I said I’ll see.”

“I worry all this charity work’s going to be the death of you, Y/N.”

You crinkle your nose up at him, punching his chest playfully. “Don’t you start James Potter.”

James raises his arms in surrender, still grinning. His gaze lifts above your head to take in the footpath behind you, and he finds himself looking right at the burly figure of Davey Gudgeon trudging toward the pair of you.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, raising his eyebrows. “You weren’t kidding about him not being able to take a hint, huh?”

You furrow your brow, looking over your shoulder bemusedly. When your head whips back around to face him, your eyes are wide and a little tortured, dappled by the warm, orange hues of Autumn. A damsel, James’ thinks, dazed, as if that’s a normal thought for a eighteen-year-old bloke to have. He’s already spiralling over kissing you and it’s been all of five minutes.

“Is he looking over here?” You ask, your voice low.

James’ eyes dart back to Davey. “Uh, yeah?”

“Good.”

You wrap your arms around his neck hurriedly, leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. James takes a second to recalibrate, his poor heart a mess, but when he does, he’s quick to circle your waist and pull you closer, his strong arms firm and torso warm on your figure. It’s a deft kiss, chaste as it is agonising, though kiss enough for him to memorise the feeling. The buttery taste of your lips, the perfect way they appear to mould against his.

It’s a tandem emotion — you’ve revelling in this kiss far more than you should, the arduous pressure of James’ lips on your own. He’s going to leave a mark. He tastes like sugar quills and feels like the death of you, his sloven hands pressing into the bare skin of your waist.

When you do finally pull away, your cheeks are warm and you’re a little breathless. “S’he still there?”

A beat passes. James doesn’t look up.

You mistake his pause for unease, and grimace abashedly, looking away from him. In hindsight, you aren’t sure what possessed you to kiss him like that — you want to pretend it was to stave Davey away, but your traitorous heart says otherwise.

God, you think, it was a really good kiss. If only James liked it as much as you did.

If only you knew.

“Sorry,” you add in a hurry, still grimacing. “I — I wasn’t thinking, I just didn’t want Davey to come over here and I —”

“Y/N,” James interrupts, his voice rough, gravelly around the edges. “Stop talking.”

You let out a breath. “Why?”

“I want to pretend you kissed me because you wanted to, just for one more second.”

“What?” You ask, your eyes wide. “Why?”

James thinks, isn’t it obvious? He’s still marvelling over how perfect your mouth is.

“Because,” he admits quietly, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

You don’t know what to say to this. Your still chest to chest with less than an inch between your figures, and you can feel your poor heart struggling to free itself from its cage. “You have?” You say, suddenly bashful.

James nods. His pupils are a little blown, his unkempt hair a mess, and he keeps his gaze trained on your lips as though he’s being paid for it. “And listen,” he murmurs, reaching forward to thumb over them softly. “Don’t worry about Davey Gudgeon.”

“Why not, James Potter?”

“Because I’d sooner die than let that bludger bore my girl to death again.”

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