hellooo. this has been my writing blog for a while, but so far it is devoid of any fics at all because the notorious writer’s block just keeps clinging to me. i’ve been wanting to write more recently though, just as short exercises, so if you can send me some requests, i’ll try my best to write them!
↳ short introduction : she/her. stem my beloved. definitely-casual-and-not-crazy hunger games enjoyer. moon!! -> have an ongoing wip about it. i have a main somewhere on this web, but i will not be revealing it here because it’s CHAOTIC and i’m just going to spare you from all that <3
↳ characters i write for : peeta mellark. james potter. remus lupin. finnick odair. peter parker (mostly tasm). percy jackson. anthony, benedict, colin bridgerton. sejanus plinth. (+more to be added, feel free to ask!)
↳ one-shots, song-fics, headcanons, angsttt, fluff, hurt comfort, etc.
i'm also a big enthusiast of taylor and gracie's music (and by that i mean i have them injected into my body 24/7), so definitely open to requests related to any of their songs!!
↳ a few disclaimer : i do not write smut or anything else related to that, don’t be weird!! i’m also still in the process of getting into writing again, so i apologize in advance if your request will take quite some time to complete. english is not my first language, so there will be more grammar mistakes to come.
[ request : open ]
NOTE : please do not repost any of my writings, even if you give me credit for it. thank you :)
Translation of the « ❤️❤️❤️ » = OMG ITS SO CUTE IM MELTING AND THE KATNISS EVERDEEN REFERENCE WHEN I JUST READ (again) HUNGER GAMES AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH 😂
AWW THANK YOUU 🥹🫶🏽🫶🏽 i’m so glad you enjoyed it!!!! and OH yess perfect timingg. hunger games references are never a miss! i will always take a time or two to show everyone my deep obsession with the series i’m afraid. and just katniss everdeen my beloved <33
percy jackson x reader | word count : 1.4k | requested
summary : though you were a skillful archer, you were an amateur when it came to dealing with a sword. while percy helped you trained for hours after lunch, he couldn’t help but fall in deeper with you, even though you’d probably never know it.
contains : my writing (again, warning). just fluff things <3 reader was implied as apollo's daughter, but never actually specified. oh, and a katniss everdeen reference! (because is the fic actually written by me if it doesn't include at least one thg reference?). let me know if there’s more!
a/n : i do NOT know how to write action-y scenes (even ones that are as light as this) so sorry if this comes out as flat haha. i had to get out my copy of the lightning thief just to be a tinny bit more familiar with it to be honest. also yes the title is kinda cheesy but soo is this entire fic < 3
credits : fan art by frostbite.studios, dividers by @benkeibear, pins i used (1) (2) (3)
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The afternoon sun hit the color of your eyes as you tried the move he had just demonstrated to you. Your eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and your forehead slicked with sweat. A borrowed but fitting sword was gripped in your hand, ready to clatter his. Percy and you had been going at it ever since lunch ended and yet you still seemed determined to keep going.
Percy counted and you attacked, one, two, three. Next move, you tried to thrust it into the right of his protected ribcage. But with your lovely eyes being a little too obvious and your hand still clumsy with the blade, he deflected it off easily, letting yours fall to the ground.
“Oh, I’m terrible,” you said with an embarrassed smile, pulling up your bronze helmet and dragging a hand to swipe your hair out of your forehead. You retrieved the sword and turned to ask him. “Okay, honest opinion. What did I do wrong?”
“Well…” he started, as he took off his own helmet, tucking it under his arm, “Your eyes give away a bit too much to the opponent, so I could easily tell what you were going to do. You’re still too hesitant about it I think.”
You playfully rolled your eyes, “Well, how can I not when my opponent at this given moment is Percy fucking Jackson but go on.”
Percy was thankful that the sun was taking it one for the team and became a cover for the red that just possibly covered his face. He shook his head, fighting a smile that was trying to break through his lips. Joke about it, take defense.
The lines of his mouth morphed into a teasing grin. “Is that an excuse that I hear, miss y/l/n? Since when do you play with those?” You were always so stubborn, in the best sense of the word. And Percy always found it admirable to say the least.
You raised your eyebrows before shooting back, “And if it is, it's also not unreasonable, Mr. Jackson.” That cute smile of yours taking flight in your face. He noticed that it was still the same one from when he first saw you at twelve, a few years back. Some things never changed.
“What else?” You asked again, crossing your arms with the sword pointing downward. “Come on, don't be shy. I can take it.”
He considered it before answering. “Your hand wasn’t steady enough with the sword and with the move you were trying to execute. It made it a bit… off. And hard to get away in battles.”
You let yourself collapse to the ground with a dramatic sigh, exhaustion finally took over you. Your legs stretched in front of you and your helmet and sword clanged by your side. “Never mind, I lied, I can't take it."
He laughed and sat down next to you, putting his equipment by yours. The wind was finally picking up now, bringing a sense of balance to the hot weather.
"I can never get this right.” You huffed, blowing up your loosen hair, which Percy couldn't help but think that you looked slightly adorable.
“It’s totally fine,” he promised you, words creeped with encouragement. “Just be more confident! I swear it works. Or just…” he trailed off, unsure, and then shrugged. “don’t think about it too much, I guess.”
“Contradiction, contradiction.” You said in a sing-song voice before looking at him with that inspecting face and said, “Do you drink some secret potion or something? Someone altered your ambrosia?”
Percy let out a laugh, “Your perception of me is unrealistically high, I see. I can say the same to you, Katniss Everdeen.”
Your face’s expression stretched with surprise before you nodded in approval. “That’s the best way to compliment my archery skills actually, yes. Forget Apollo the doofus.”
“Who?” Percy played in the joke, to which you answered with the only appropriate one : “Exactly.”
He clapped his hand, an idea forming in his head. "Alright, how about this. If you give it a try just one more time, I'll give you some blue cupcakes my mom just sent me a few days ago." He offered with a knowing smile, getting you too well to strike a tempting bargain with you.
Percy knew how in love you were with his mom's cupcakes. Sally Jackson made the best for the best. It had only taken one bite and he could already tell how head over heels you were with them. He might or might not be planning to try to make a batch himself as a surprise for your upcoming birthday, but he feared the baking talent of the greats did not pass onto him. These hands weren't only skilled in combat, but with a pair of mitts and an oven, they could also burn an entire kitchen down.
Still though. Seeing the way your eyes immediately lit up right now made him rethink his choices. Maybe burning down a room wasn't so bad. At least you would probably laugh at his pathetic attempt.
Your mouth split into a grin and he was brought back to the world. You shook your head in slight disbelief. "Bringing Mrs. Jackson cupcakes into this? You are not playing fair, Perce."
"That's a deal then?" He held out his hand for a shake.
You sighed, putting his hand in yours. "Fine, deal."
Percy tried to ignore the fireworks he felt as he gripped your hand tighter and pulled you up to stand. His heart felt like it was trying to push its way out of his ribs, but in a good way. Like a thrill.
"Alright, one more time," He said as he retrieved his sword and you retrieved yours. "You ready?"
"Honestly, I'm just doing this for the cupcakes now." Seriously, how much could one person make him smile in the span of five minutes?
You and Percy put on the helmets. He counted to three, and you started taking offense as he took defense. One, two, three. It all started out well. Your movements were still a bit clumsy, but you'd get better on it in no time, he was sure. And you were doing pretty good work too. That was until you were stepping back, trying to deflect his now offensive movements, and tripped over yourself. You fell to the hard ground with an oof.
Luckily, with your equipment still intact, you couldn't be hurt that much. But Percy immediately dropped riptide and got to your side.
He knew it was stupid. You and him were both warriors, you were good with a bow, he was good with a sword. Both of you had been injured multiple times in different kinds of battles, and yours had been more grotesque than his more than once, so this was absolutely nothing. Still, he guessed, the instinct to worry would just stay the same.
"Hey, are you okay?" He asked, as he gently pulled you up to a sitting position. His forehead was creased together as he looked at you, but you were instead laughing, finding your recent incident funny. "What?" He asked, couldn't help but let a laugh, albeit confused, out of his lips too. Yours were charmingly infectious.
You pointed at your face, your bronze helmet askew, voice still laced with traces of mirth. "Tell me, how silly do I look?"
He smiled, affection swarmed him. "Very silly," Should he risk it? "So silly, it's borderline annoyingly cute actually." Okay, risking it then.
But you just smiled, either welcoming it or oblivious to the actual meaning behind it. Probably the latter. You wouldn’t be convinced someone actually liked liked you even if it was plastered on a billboard. You pointed at his face, and laughed again, this time with an effort of covering your mouth. "You look so silly too, I'm sorry."
He shook his hand, bringing out a breath of laughter, unable to keep his smile from growing further under the protective gear. "Hey," he said, finally taking off his helmet and letting the wind touch his face. "It was in solidarity with you as a friend! Please appreciate it."
"I do!" You took off your helmet, letting the glow of the sun kiss your face again. Percy couldn't help but be entranced with the way you looked, still perfect even with the destroying searing weather of June. You couldn't keep doing this to him. "Sorry, I'll stop." You promised as you withdrew a laugh, but he actually wished you wouldn't. He loved hearing you laughed, it made the wind that danced around him a melodic thing, one he could be around forever—or whatever it was the poets said.
Looking at you made him understand what they were always talking and raving about, but he could never explain it.
Hello can you do a training session with pjo x reader. When the reader is not good with a sword and Percy try to help her but they end up laughing. he have a crush on her but she is oblivious. Please 🙂
↳ "all's fair in love & sword fights"
HII. i had such a fun time finally finishing this at 1 am last night and i hope you'll enjoy reading it as well! this was such a cute and simple request, i'm sorry it took quite a while to finish it. i haven't read the pjo books in a while and was a bit scared writing percy for some reason 😭 BUT ANYWAYS thank you for the request, i hope you'll like it <33
james potter x reader | word count : 7232 | requested
↳ part one / part two ───✧₊∘
summary : james always said that you were his best friend and you always said that he was yours. but you didn't realize that the meaning of the words had changed for you until it was a week before the yule ball and you two were walking through the snow covered streets of hogsmeade (reader's pov)
contains : my writing (warning lmao), pretty cheesy. (childhood) best friends to lovers!! flufff, herbal tea slander (sorry if you like it), lots of out-of-place references (like pjo and spiderman, i'm SORRY, i can't help it). i’m never sure on what to put in here to be honest so just let me know!
a/n : soo i might have gone a biiiiit overboard and make it a two part! this one takes place in hogsmeade (mostly), told from reader's point of view. i'm planning for the second one to be from james' point of view and for it to take place during the yule ball (no promises on when i’m going to finish it though TT )
credits : lovelyy dividers by @cafekitsune, pins i used (1) (2) (3)
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The castle seemed to have its own separate life in December. Snow, trees, warm hearth, lights, candles, sweaters, hot drinks, and not to mention the food. The students always seemed to be reinvigorated by the time this month came too. Excited whispers floated the hallways in strings of exclamations.
This year, they were way louder than usual though. And the reason for it was visible in every room. The vibrant yet elegant posters, the talks of elaborate plans, scenes of people asking and being asked (and the cheers that would follow it), conversations of suits and dresses, and absolutely nonchalant talks of dates and hopes.The Yule Ball.
This extravagance of the event only happened once in every four years, so of course, everyone was excited. Nothing could be more thrilling than a chance to live out your silly teenage dreams and be like one in the movies.
You loved it too. The smiles, the laughter, the gossip, the drama. It was fun, though you weren't expecting much for yourself. You weren't being a downer or whatever (which was what James would definitely tell you), it was just that, if truth be told, you had learned not to hope too much in anything. Retrospective had taught you a long time ago that it would only tarnish the joy out of a perfectly good moment.
Today was a festive Saturday morning. Talks of the ball were echoing off the walls in a more persistent way than ever. Understandable for they only had a week left before the festivities, anxiety and anticipation were sure rising.
You were just about to enter The Great Hall, the comforting smell of good breakfast already reached your nose, before someone suddenly threw their arms around you from the back, throwing you off balance a bit, his warmth enveloping you. James Potter.
Funny how someone's laugh could be so familiar to one's ears.
"How are you in this fine lovely morning?" The bespectacled boy greeted you as you turned around, eyes meeting his, your lips turned upward mirroring his smile. He really did have the most annoying charming smile. It was infectious.
"Freezing to death," you responded, slinging his arm around your shoulders as both of you walked the rest of the way to the hall. "Where are the others?”
"Already there," he scoffed, and continued on dramatically, "They left me to fend for myself!"
"To be fair, you are a heavy sleeper."
"You're one to talk," he grinned at you, "Why do you think both of us are the last ones to arrive?"
And he hit it right. You straightened up, ready to defend yourself. "Well, look–"
But he was way ahead of you. "Good book?" he smiled knowingly. And right again.
"So good," You nodded your head vigorously. "You should read it sometimes. I'll add that to your list." You waved your hand away casually, as if to say ‘done and done.’
"I look forward to reading it."
You smiled up at him, agreed. "Good, because you must." And before you could stop it, you went on telling him all about your reading from last night.
He didn't seem to mind, he never did. In fact, he always seemed to be interested in everything you had to say, so you continued. It had become a routine. You told him about a book he had never heard of, he told him about a match you had never watched.
James Potter was your best friend. Always had and always would be. The two of you had known each other since you were five and knew nothing and everything. Both of your parents had been best friends and it just progressed naturally. They would often spend the holidays and breaks together and so his house was yours as much as yours was his.
And when both of you got the Hogwarts letter at the age of eleven and were sorted into Gryffindor, it was inevitable that you grew even closer. Everything about him had become so familiar now. It was like you knew him at the back of your hand.
His favorite color, his favorite food, his favorite song. How his eyes brightened a bit when he laughed. The dimples that came with his smile. How he would bite his lip a bit when McGonagall caught him and his friends in their mischievous schemes, or when he was thinking of a lie to tell her.
How he liked to put his arm around your shoulder, or tucked it in the inside of your arm every time he saw you. His glasses that were always lopsided, and his hair that was always tousled. Just like it was right now.
Both of you sat down in front of Remus and Sirius, who were laughing about something. Crisp toast, bacon, and eggs on the plates completely abandoned. You eyed them closely and wondered how two people could be so oblivious to one another when they were sitting that close to each other. And look at Remus! He was almost red.
If only you did not have a sense of decency and could have it in you to interfere with these two, then maybe, just maybe, they'd finally admit their feelings and go to the Yule Ball together.
"Where's Wormtail?" James asked them, getting himself a plate of eggs and sausages. You decided to grab some toasts, marmalade, and some eggs.
"Don't know," Sirius shrugged. "Probably hatching a plan to ask Jane out."
"Doesn't she already have a date?" You asked him, confusion on your face.
"Not sure," Remus chimed in, "it's hard to keep track these days." True that.
The four of you talked some more. You and James tried multiple times trying to get these two to talk about their dates to the ball—or more like the lack of it—and did a bait and switch. And you were good at it, but boy were they better.
After their plates had emptied, Remus said that he was going to make a quick run at the library and Sirius, very subtly and casually, offered that he could come too because he was "bored." You and James could barely contain your smiles until they disappeared out of view.
He grabbed a bit of your toast, put some of his fruits on your plate in exchange for it, and asked, "So... what about you?"
"What about me?"
"Who are you going with to the dance?"
"Oh," you pondered a bit, biting one of the strawberries. "I don't know. I'm thinking of going by myself, maybe? I think it'd be fun."
"No one has asked you yet?" He asked, surprised.
You let out a laugh at his expression. "Don't pretend to be shocked now, James. I don't exactly have a line of people waiting to ask me out."
"People here have bad tastes then.” He concluded.
You shrugged, “I don’t mind. It’d be a pity spending the night with some stranger I don’t know, or even like, anyway. What about you and Lily?”
James' die-hard affection for the red-head girl was never a secret. The entire school knew it. It had been going on since first year and you doubted it would ever stop.
The way he always talked about her — with so much fondness and care. It was, the way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way she talked. But you noticed the way he looked at her too. It was like he fell in love every time he laid his eyes on her.
You figured that he was going to at least work up the courage to ask her out to the ball, even if it would only end up in vain, but no news from him so far. It was weird, like a sudden change of the weather. You had had to endure listening to him for what seemed like ages after Lily talked to him for the first time. And then another and another and another about his failed attempts at asking her out. What's with the quiet and silence now?
Was the fact that she turned him down again for the dance hurt him that bad? Oh, now you felt guilty for asking.
What was so strange, though, was that there wasn't sadness on his face now. No hidden pain or aches. Instead, he said, ever so casually, your toast in his hand "I haven't asked her yet."
You were taken aback, shocked, eyebrows scrunched up. "What?"
James' fruitless efforts with Lily was also very much widely known, but he was never ashamed of it. You couldn't remember the last time he passed an opportunity to confess his— as he said it —undying love for her.
"What, what do you mean you haven't asked her out?" You sputtered out.
He chuckled nervously at your response, raising his hands in trying to calm you down. "Is it really that surprising?"
"Considering the fact that you, James Potter, have been after her for like forever and never faltered in his efforts to make her know that he is head over heels for her, then I'd say, yeah. It's pretty surprising." You responded, baffled. "What changed?"
"Nothing! I just figured that she'd turn me down anyway and didn't bother. And then I heard she already accepted someone else's offer anyways." he shrugged.
"Oh," you put his hand in yours and gave it a squeeze. "I'm sorry."
James squeezed yours in return and gave you a smile. "Nothing to be sorry about. I'm fine, honestly." he assured you. “I think it might be for the best.”
Though you didn’t believe that, he did look fine. And James was never one to hide his feelings from you— in fact it was the total opposite, he was always ever so dramatic — so you took his words. You bit your lip and asked, "You want some tea?"
"What is it this time?" He asked as he took a bite of the egg.
You grabbed one of the teacups and gave it a sniff. "Oh," you scrunched up your nose from the smell, "Herbal, I think." you put it down. "That's a no then."
He groaned, "Why couldn't they just serve normal tea?"
"Because then we won't have a ‘refined’ palate." You rolled your eyes, quoting something Madam Pince had told you in the library for what seemed like a long time ago.
"That's a silly excuse for serving only herbal tea at breakfast."
You couldn't say that you disagree.
"So,” he started. “What are you doing today? Any plans?"
"No,” you shook your head, “Nothing much." You poured yourself a glass of orange juice and passed the jug to him. "I'll probably just read. You?"
He poured one himself and grinned at you. "That depends, you want to go to Hogsmeade?"
"Uh-oh," you let out a laugh, sensing trouble. "What are you up to?"
He gasped dramatically. "What do you mean ‘what are you up to?’ I am offended.” He placed a hand on his chest for good measure. “Could it be possible that maybe I just want to spend the day at Hogsmeade with my best friend?”
You raised your eyebrows at him.
He laughed. “I’m not going to do anything, honestly. And It'll be fun, I promise!" he nudged you. "We haven't gone there in a while." Well, that was true.
"It's cold," you argued.
"I have an extra coat if you want double."
"It will be very crowded."
"Then we'll find some place no one knows."
"That's impossible."
"Anything is possible, love. Please." He pleaded, looking at you with his big doe eyes. It was so unfair of the world to give someone such gorgeous brown eyes and left the others to dust. So unfair.
You sighed, letting out at last. He would be the death of you one of these days. "Fine," — which brought a whispered "Yes!" from him— "But we're going to have to visit the quill shop."
"Consider it done."
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Hogsmeade was truly beautiful in the winter. Its snow-covered roads, the orange lights visible in every shop, and the chattering crowds in their coats and scarves. Though the hits of cold wind on your face made you shiver, you were glad that you decided to go. And that you were with James. His arms around your shoulders provided you warmth just as much as his breath on your cheeks did.
As promised, both of you visited Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. James had complained at first and tried to negotiate by saying you should "save the best for last" and head to Zonko's instead to open the trip, but after both of you saw the line the place'd formed, he agreed that maybe quills were more fascinating.
"Why are there so many types of ink?" he whispered loudly at you as he examined the shelves, "Who cares if it's lavender purple or lilac purple? They're purple!"
"Lots of people do." You answered before quietly squealing to him after finding a rare gem. "Look!"
You pushed the ink bottles to his face so he'd read the label. "Rainbow ink?"
"Rainbow ink!" You nodded excitedly.
"You do not need rainbow ink, love." He shook his head but couldn't force back the affectionate smile that had appeared on his face.
"Just like you don't need those hand-biting teacups or whatever from Zonko's, and yet here we are." You hummed giddily as you grabbed one of the brand new boxes of rainbow ink from the shelf.
"It's nose-biting teacups— please don't take the fun out of it," he corrected you, "and yes I do need it! It's fun! Trashy fun, but fun!”
"Whatever you say, love." Something caught your attention and you immediately grabbed the cuff of his shirt. "Oh! Let's look here!"
With the rainbow ink tucked safely in your coat pocket, you and James walked out of the shop and visited Zonko's. He recounted all of the items he had once bought and how he had used them up, mostly with Sirius. He ended up getting something called Inflatable Tongue (for what you didn't want to know) before both of you walked out.
You turned to him with a glint in your eyes. "Honeydukes?"
He returned the mischief and grinned. "I thought you'd never ask. Time?"
You thought it over, looking at the clock nailed onto the wall of the shop through the glass.
“Five minutes,” you pointed out. “Letter?”
"B,” he decided as he rubbed his gloved hands together. "Ready?"
"One..." you looked over at him, I'm going to obliterated you.
"Two…”
“Three.. Go!" you declared before both of you ran to the brightly colored store.
You and James had many traditions. This was one of them.
The challenge was simple. You only had to find as many candies as possible that started with the decided letter in those few minutes.
It had started with a silly argument in second year, about who knew more about sweets and, later on, the knowledge of Hogsmeade's own candy shop's stocks and products. You only had been able to visit by third year of course, and the real game had only begun there, but the fire was already established way before.
Your friend, Marlene, thought it was stupid, and so did the rest of the Marauders, but there was something to be said about the similar stubbornness you two had. Sirius had said they were eerily alike.
You and James entered the shop with thrill and jumpy nerves, but were still decent enough to try not to run like little children that would definitely result in getting kicked out. Like that time both of you visited those muggles candy stores over a summer when you were younger. Lessons were learned.
You immediately went to the right part of the store, claiming the territory. Directed by your decision, James went to the left.
You knew the store well. James didn’t know it, but you had been visiting this cheerful shop a lot recently. Mostly because Mary was so down after her breakup with her toxic ex and these treats are one of the things that could cheer her up. But on the side, you had done your research. The Bs were on this side of the store.
Bolandi’s Exquisite Crystallized Pineapple. Blood-flavored lollipop. Bat’s Blood Soup? Gross. And some chunks of brownies.
Five minutes passed, and with James only got Bertie’s and bubblegums, you came out of the shop victorious.
You jumped and threw your hands in the air. “And miss y/l/n won again. Thank you, thank you.” You bowed to a nonexistent audience.
He only smiled at you. “Don’t be so proud now. Remember, miss y/l/n, I am still the running champion here. 3-2” he reminded you with a smug smile on his face.
You shrugged. “That won’t be hard to feat, you mark my words.“ you offered him a look into your paper bag. “Want to try some?”
“What’s new?”
“Bat’s blood soup.” Your nose wrinkled at the name. “He said that it’s actually chocolate, but the name is too off putting.”
“It’d be good with strawberries,” he offered. “We can grab some from dinner later.”
You nodded your head as both of you made your way through the village. “I think Mary would like it too anyways.”
“Oh, right.” James said. He and Mary weren’t close but they were friendly, especially from being past neighbors and all. “How is she these days?”
“Better every day I'm sure. It’s for the best, Matt’s an asshole.”
“We can only hope that that itching powder will find its way real soon.” he grinned at their latest form of tricks. “Or maybe during the Yule Ball actually. That would be so much better.”
You snorted. “Usually I would say that’s cruel, but he deserves it. We thank you for your service.” You continued solemnly.
He waved his hand as if tipping off his hat. “And you are so very welcome.”
Both of you walked through the well-lit village. Talking about everything and nothing, laughing at that student making a fool of himself in one of the shops, and slipped some bites of the crystallized pineapples.He asked you about how far into the book you were now, and you asked him about his Quidditch team and whether the newest member– someone from year two, you believed–was still afraid of heights.
James had his left arm around you and your gloved hands were holding his–the one near your neck–fighting for some sense of warmth. You and James hadn’t done this in a while and you’d forgotten how much you missed it. You looked up at him as he was talking about the second-year boy and saw the flecks of snow scattered on his face, his askew glasses, and his jet black hair. It made him look a tad bit adorable, you thought. His brown eyes that had that bit of green in them were alight with something so charmingly infectious that you couldn’t help but smile.
You looked at him as he talked about the latest match, his right hand going everywhere as he was talking at the speed of 893 miles per hour. You loved seeing him talk excitedly about something. There was just something so beautiful in hearing the people you cared about talk about things that they cared about so passionately and ardently, no matter how trivial they may be. It was like you were trusted enough to see this crazy side of them. It’s nice.
A group of third-years passed by and you heard them complaining about not being able to go to the ball yet. Something about dances, dresses and suits, and dying alone.
"Oh," you fought a smile to keep it from surfacing as you remembered a particular last week incident. “How are your dance moves coming along?"
He groaned. “Not this again. You're trying not to laugh."
"I'm not!" but a chortle escaped you either way. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I know you're trying your best."
"I am!" he whined. "It's just really hard and Padfoot isn't exactly the best dance partner for practicing," he grumbled.
"Steps-on-you-shoes kind of bad or doesn't-catch-you-after-the-spin-that-you-end-up-falling kind of bad?" You said with a smile and with raised eyebrows.
He rolled his eyes as he revealed a sheepish smile. As if he could forget. "I said I'm sorry."
“I know. but it was right there. I couldn't not do it.”
A week ago, in the empty common room at night, James had asked you to teach him the basic dance steps most people used for the ball. Despite his mother's graces for it, you found that her son was very much an amateur.
He kept stepping on your foot and collided with you as he took the wrong directions. You were laughing and kept saying that it was fine, but he still apologized every other second of it.
The ending to the attempts was a disaster. A playful one for you, but he seemed very embarrassed of it. You had suggested the spin—and honestly it was your fault to have recommended it in the first place when it had only been an hour and a half—and as he tried to pull you back, he might have tugged your hand a bit too hard and you ended up crashing into one another. Your figure on top of his, his hands on your waist.
His cheeks had turned slightly red, and yours had grown hot as the fall stopped and you found your face so close to his. Your eyes inevitably found his brown ones and you felt his rapid breaths on your skin. His eyes have a little bit of green in them, like stars, your mind wandered before catching yourself. You let out a slight awkward cough and tried to laugh it off as you made yourself stand up.
He gave you a string of apologies afterward, and although you had assured him that it was all in good fun, he never asked you to teach him again. You kind of wished he would, for reasons you couldn't quite explain, but you didn't want to push him when he had turned to Sirius to "let the failures just befall on him", as he'd said it.
"But, either way, have you improved under the capable hands of Sirius Black, Mr. Potter?" you asked him now, an eyebrow raised.
"Well, he's definitely not as capable as you." He gave you an admiring smile, and you almost looked away from it. Taking compliments was never one of your talents. Especially if you felt undeserved of it.
"Well, it might come to you as a surprise, but what we learned was the easy part. I'm an intermediate myself." Deflected and dodged.
He laughed. "Either way, you're still graceful at it. You know, the incident did happen again. With Sirius."
You snorted. "What?"
"Yeah. Luckily, it's still in the privacy of our dorm. so it's good."
"I'd give money to see that."
"Would never let that happen in a million years."
“With the way things are going, I might. The dance is a public affair.”
“I’d have to get better by next week then.” He said it solemnly like it was a promise, but he probably was kidding. That small child-like smile on his face said it all.
You had walked to the empty side of the village. You didn't think there was one, but the snow covered streets around you were scarce of people. Only a few passersby before they too disappeared into the warm shelter of a wooden shop. Just the way you preferred it.
A sudden thought crossed your mind and before you could even give it a second thought, your mouth decided to give it a voice. "You want to try again?"
He looked around, his snow flecked eyebrows raising, and his smile tinted with a hint of amusement. "Here?"
Well now you wished you hadn't. But, playing along was always better than an embarrassed "never mind, that was stupid" right?
"Well, yes!" you told him as if you definitely didn't have any second thoughts at all. "Almost no one’s here. Besides," You continued with a light feather edge on your words. "I heard it's freeing to dance in the cold December wind."
He shot you with one of his cheeky smiles. "Is that so?" before putting on his thinking face, a guess on the tip of his tongue. "Romance?" He ventured.
"Partly. It's a coming-of-age drama and such." You corrected him. "It's also on our winter list for this year you'll see."
"Can't wait." and he meant it. But only because, "I hope you'll also like that match tape I got of a muggles' football match. They're entertaining too to say the least."
After years of being best friends together, he had learned that you liked to talk in quotes from the books you'd read and the movies you'd watched. And after years of spending winter and summer breaks together watching and listening to the muggles' form of entertainment media, it was like you shared the same frequency. He could guess which type of movies or shows or songs you had probably heard the saying from, and you could guess which sport match did he reference that joke from.
It was a whole different game. Total number of players : two.
He stopped in his tracks, letting his arm fall from his shoulder, making your neck shudder a bit at the loss of warmth.
"So," he gave you a gentleman's bow—and a playful smile along with it—and offered his gloved hand. "May I have this dance?"
You almost let out a surprised laugh at the gesture. You took a ladylike bow, pinching the fabric of your invisible royal dress. "That depends," you said in an exaggerated accent, "are you able to do so without giving me a head injury?"
He returned the overplayed accent. "I shall make no promises. But, if i were to slip and let you fall, best believe I'd try my best to catch you."
On the usual days, you'd bring up Gwen Stacy falling into her demise in one of the remakes of the Spider-Man movies. How Peter wasn't able to catch her and she ended up dead. James would've gotten the reference—you had cried to him for hours after that first watch last summer—but you couldn't bring yourself to do it.
And yet instead, you were here, trying not to let the invisible red take too much space on your already freezing cheeks. You smiled, and it was a smile you couldn't contain. Not like others. It was one that just kept going wider and wider the more you looked at the beam plastered on his face until it wasn't physically possible anymore.
James, your head echoed his name as you mentally shook your head. A soft laugh escaped your lips. What have you done?
“We’re going to look stupid.” You admitted.
“Hey, it was your idea." He reminded you, his hand still stood in the air.
"It was a moment of foolery." But you took it.
The wind had started to pick up its course again and caused the snow to fall rapidly. Under the glow of the streetlights, you two danced and laughed. It started off as an attempt to the formal dance two would usually use at a ball, but after one or two or seven missteps, you agreed that maybe you should start over.
There was no music to accompany you but there was a faint piano playing from one of the shops. It whispered gently with the wind that swept you and James' rowdy steps.
His laughters were echoing in your ears, into your mind. His breath was on your cheeks, and his gloved hand on your woolen one was a warming touch. His glasses were a bit askew, and a part of his hair that came out of his beanie was flecked with snow.
There was no rhyme nor reason to your steps or the placement change of your hands. It was so stupid and silly. One minute it was an amateur attempt at classic dances, and another you were fooling around as if you were at a house party.
It was nice. Like you two were five again and you knew nothing and everything. Childhood innocence, where have you gone?
There were a lot of things you were late to realize about your friendship with James. You guessed you didn’t really think much about a friendship that had started since you could remember. It had always just been there, all your life. So long that you couldn’t imagine a life without it. A steadfast thing, the most you ever had one with someone that used to be a stranger to you.
You couldn’t even imagine that now. James Potter, a stranger. It felt so wrong. You had known too much about him, he had known too much about you. He was memorized in your mind.
From his hazel brown eyes that felt like the warm hearth of your home every time you looked at them, to the quirk of his lips and the gentleness of his smile.
To his voice that had once become a soothing presence after you had had paranoid nightmares about one of the people you knew dying. To the sound of his laughter that accompany the hot days in June and the freezing weather of winter, like how it did right now.
How he would run his hands through his hair when he was frustrated or didn’t know what to do. Or how his handwriting looked and how the Gs and Ys are always so sloppy and how the Ss barely look like one.
And so many things. So many other things you couldn’t imagine living without. Maybe this was just you being too present in a moment that you couldn’t think of it being ripped away and making you not be there anymore, but you weren’t sure.
You looked at him, and it was like the rest of the world fell away. His eyes had stars in them and his cheeks were red from the cold.
Your thoughts raced in a hundred miles per hour as your breaths and the pulse in your veins tried to catch up. All of them were beating to get out of your skin and onto the snow. They all had the same jitters, the same sound, and the same beat. And they all were talking in one unison, a whisper of the name of the person in front of you.
James Potter. James Potter. James. Oh. Oh.
It was a moment too late before you realized you had not been watching your steps and tripped yourself over a good mound of snow.
“Woah, woah” You started as you fell forward onto the snow, with your hands still on James’.
You heard the soft thump of the snow hitting James’ head, as your body fell on top of his. The rough old material of his father's coat met with your similar one. Your eyes were inches from his and so were your lips. You didn’t know what to think, your mind just went blank at the sudden proximity.
You should— wait, what should you do? You should— right, oh my god, apologize!
Fighting your inner thoughts and denying its claims, you immediately got up. Maybe too quickly for nonchalance but your racing brain didn’t have time to think it through. Not when it was jammed with mixed and confused signals from your heart.
“James! I’m so so sorry!” you offered him your hand and pulled him to stand, brushing off the snow from his coat. “Sorry, I wasn’t in my mind for that one second. Sorry.”
You couldn’t meet his eyes, or even look at him—which almost never was a problem before, at least not because of this kind of… thing— so you resumed correcting his lopsided beanie.
He just laughed though. All casual as if you didn’t just find a big revelation. “It’s okay, it’s fine.” He tried to assure you. But you still wouldn’t stop, so he took hold of your hands to stop them from fixing his woolen headwear.
Great, now you were forced to look at him. You just hoped the cold weather was still a believable reason to cover up for whatever your face may look like now. Flushed, probably. But hopefully not too embarrassed.
You looked at his face, a trace of mirth still on his lips that were so close to you a minute ago. His face was kinda red too, but it was probably because of the season.
“It’s okay,” he assured you again. “You know,” an end to his smile turned a bit more upward and you knew that a tease was coming. “You reminded me of an old me,” he continued breezily, “i made this same mistake too back then. When i was more foolish.”
You couldn’t help but let out a snort. James, james. Alright, just let things—and especially you—calm down a little, you told yourself. Let everything go back to normal.
“You mean a week ago, old man?” You lightly punched his arm, before dusting off the snow from your own coat.
“Time is relative. Miles Morales said it himself.” He said as he helped you brush the snow out of your hair and coat. “Or actually it was Ernest whatnot but whatever.”
You let out a breath of laughter as you shook your head. His glasses were crooked so your hands automatically went up to fix it. Like you had done so many times. “There. It was crooked.” You heard yourself explaining.
“Thanks,” he said with that stupid silly smile of his. You hated that smile now. How can one have such a charismatic smile? It wasn’t fair.
“No problem, wise man.” You responded with your new-found nickname for him, playfully rolling your eyes.
“Seaweed brain," He called back, and that made you smile– you didn’t even realize it.
You gave him a nod of approval. "The Percy Jackson reference. Touché."
"I've learned sooo much from you." He said solemnly.
"I know." You smiled up at him. And he looked right into your eyes, that blinding smile of his radiating onto them before suddenly averting his gaze onto the ground, where evidence of your very own accident made a mark on the snow.
James rubbed his hands together, searching for warmth. "Hey, you want to go to the Three Broomsticks? It’ll probably be emptier now.” He offered, like he always did because he was your friend. Your best friend since you could remember.
You didn’t know why you were acting weird. It was only an hour ago when everything was normal. You didn’t know how everything could just change in a matter of seconds. He was your friend, it would be okay. However this would unfold, everything would be fine. Both of you had always overcome things before. It was with James, you two would get through it. You were grateful to have him.
“Oh yeah sure.” You agreed. Wait, was that too quick of a response? Oh fuck it. He was your best friend, he had known you all his life too—which was exactly why if there was something off with you, he’d definitely be the first person to notice it, but you didn’t want to think about it too much. You shook your heads to clear all maddening thoughts. “Have you heard from Frank? Haven’t gone there in a while.”
“Oh, yeah he’s great.” He continued in a whisper, “I heard he has just received a new package of fire whiskey and Sirius and I are hoping to get a snatch of it or two. You know, for the house.”
“Right, for the house,” You rolled your eyes.
He lent out a hand to you, "Shall we?"
You took it and he gave it a soft squeeze, its grip sending vibrations through your bones.
"We shall."
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James was right, it wasn't as crowded as it would be if you had come earlier. Most people here had their drink and company either at noon or late afternoon and night. 3 pm wasn't exactly a busy hour. Though there were still too many people and noises for your comfort, you and James could at least find a table for two in the corner, quieter spot.
He came to the table holding two butterbeers in his hand. Both served hot to minimize the cold. He slid yours down the table and took a seat in front of you. His glasses are turned slightly uneven again.
"So, y/n" he started as you picked up your drink and sighed at the heat it gave you. Your hands were absolutely freezing.
"Hm?" You responded, more focused on the comforting smell that radiated from your cup.
"I've been thinking," He continued, and now you looked up. You were so distracted before that you didn't notice how his hands were moving as if he were drumming his thighs under the table— a habit he often did when he was nervous.
You furrowed your eyebrows for a second but decided to ignore it. "Uh-oh. Nothing good ever comes up from that." You took a careful sip of the butterbeer, its warmth traveled all through your withered body. "New horrible trick ideas?"
He rolled his eyes, a breathy laugh came out of his lips. "Why is it that you always always think the worst of me, miss y/l/n?"
Just this morning, at the Great Hall, every part of you was functioning alright. Nothing going haywire. But now, there was a skipped beat in your heart and a flip in your stomach. You tried to deflect it but the butterflies couldn't be bothered.
"I don't always always think the worst of you James. I just know you." You did, you really did. You wondered if he knew it though.
"Well, I bet you wouldn't guess what's going to come out of my mouth this time." He claimed in a challenging tone.
You raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"Five guesses." He grinned as he pulled up five fingers to illustrate his point. "No retracting."
"Alright then," You accepted the challenge. You silently thought to yourself before voicing it all aloud. "Wasn't a trick, so maybe you are... planning to do something to the Marauders? Like, I don't know, maybe get those two idiots together to the ball?"
He pulled down a finger. "You know, maybe I should. But that wasn't it. You were kinda close though."
Close where? “Sirius and Remus?”
He made a loud incorrect buzzer sound and pulled down another finger.
“Hey, that wasn’t-”
“No retracting,” he reminded you, as he took a sip of his own beverage.
“Not fair,” you grumbled. You thought about it again before guessing, “Oh! Yule Ball shenanigans? Oh wait no-“
Another buzzer sound, and two fingers left. “My, you really don’t know me, do you y/n?” He feigned a dramatic hurt on his face and a slight pout. “You’re close though.”
About the dance? What’s about the dance? “What, you’re going to skip the ball?” You said it as a joke but he wasn’t laughing. In fact, there was just a trace of truth in that smile of his when you said it. “What, I’m right?”
“No. But that depends actually.”
“You’re talking in riddles.”
“Yeah, it’s fun, isn’t it?” His smile had a slight smirk now, like it was still held back or something. “That counted as incorrect by the way.” He made another buzzer sound and one finger left.
You sighed in frustration. The Yule Ball, but it wasn’t about any tricks. So what? Oh. The realization hit you as you felt your heart drop. It was so silly, but bad timing, James. Bad timing.
“You’re finally going to try and ask someone else to go to the ball with you?” You voiced out your thoughts, hoping there wasn’t a hint that could suggest something else; reluctance and hesitation. What, did he meet her in the hallway before you two went out or something?
He pulled his lips together and gave you a small shrug. “Close,” he concluded. “But again that depends.”
You sighed. “Alright, fine. I give up. I surrender. Just tell me.” You almost pleaded with him.
“You’re my best friend, right?”
Right. Best friend. Of course. You nodded. “Mhm.”
“So…” he stopped, like he was nervous to get the words out. That was weird.
A worse idea came to mind.Oh please don’t tell me he’s going to ask me to become his fake date for the ball to make Lily jealous, you silently desperately prayed. It would’ve been easy if it had been any other week before, but not this week. Not today. And specifically not at this hour, when you were still processing everything.
“Will you…” he continued hesitantly, his fingers playing with a loose thread on one of his gloves, a smile fighting to still be displayed on his lips. “Give me the honor and go with me to the dance?
You said nothing, only slightly raised your eyebrows in surprise. That depends. You didn’t want to let the fireworks surround you. Skepticism came first, as it always had to.
But your silence seemed to jittered him, and he immediately jumped to explanation. “You know, because we’re best friends, and none of us have a date, and I don't know, I thought it would be fun? To go together. As friends. Casual thing. You know.” He shrugged.
You let out a smile at that, and it seemed to relax him a bit. Why was he so nervous? Of course you’d go with him. You were his best friend, and he was yours, he knew that. “Well, you are not a stranger I don't know or even like.” You joked.
He gave you a grin at that. “No, I’m not. So, you’d go? With me, I mean?”
He was cuter when he was nervous, it wasn’t fair. Why was he nervous again? You’d understand if it was you who were nervous, but why was he?
You couldn’t focus on anything besides the annoyingly loud flutter in your heart—and how hard you are trying to beat and stomp it to death right now. This doesn’t mean anything, it was just a friendly gesture. James was in love with Lily, there was no question, of course.
But you still felt the butterflies on your stomach go wild. You were fighting to contain that smile on your face, scared he’d figure out it wasn’t just any casual thing for you. You were going to the ball with your best friend and you realized there was no else you’d rather go with.
“Of course, James. You’re my best friend!” You smiled up at him, the warmth coming through your gloves from the hot drink was now small compared to the thrill that coursed through your body. “Though do you have a written contract for possible head damage compensation because I might need it.”
He shook his head, a slight relieved laughter came out of his lips. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love me because of it.” You were only teasing, but you thought he looked at you with such sincerity in his eyes that it jarred your senses a bit.
Could you ply write a best friend to lovers story with James Potter maybe about Yule Ball or Hogsmeade or something like that
Thank you have a great day x
↳ "you're my best friend" (part 1)
okay HII finally. sorry that it took so long. this was such a simple request but i might have gone a biiiiit overboard and make it a two part soo. this one is the hogsmeade part, told from reader's point of view. i'm planning for the second one to be from james' point of view and for it to take place during the yule ball. thank youuu for the request anon and i hope you'll enjoy reading it! <33
james potter x reader | word count : 7.2k | requested
↳ part one / part two ───✧₊∘
summary : james always said that you were his best friend and you always said that he was yours. but you didn't realize that the meaning of the words had changed for you until it was a week before the yule ball and you two were walking through the snow covered streets of hogsmeade (reader's pov)
contains : my writing (warning lmao), pretty cheesy. (childhood) best friends to lovers!! flufff, herbal tea slander (sorry if you like it), lots of out-of-place references (like pjo and spiderman, i'm SORRY, i can't help it). i’m never sure on what to put in here to be honest so just let me know!
a/n : soo i might have gone a biiiiit overboard and make it a two part! this one takes place in hogsmeade (mostly), told from reader's point of view. i'm planning for the second one to be from james' point of view and for it to take place during the yule ball (no promises on when i’m going to finish it though TT )
credits : lovelyy dividers by @cafekitsune, pins i used (1) (2) (3)
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The castle seemed to have its own separate life in December. Snow, trees, warm hearth, lights, candles, sweaters, hot drinks, and not to mention the food. The students always seemed to be reinvigorated by the time this month came too. Excited whispers floated the hallways in strings of exclamations.
This year, they were way louder than usual though. And the reason for it was visible in every room. The vibrant yet elegant posters, the talks of elaborate plans, scenes of people asking and being asked (and the cheers that would follow it), conversations of suits and dresses, and absolutely nonchalant talks of dates and hopes.The Yule Ball.
This extravagance of the event only happened once in every four years, so of course, everyone was excited. Nothing could be more thrilling than a chance to live out your silly teenage dreams and be like one in the movies.
You loved it too. The smiles, the laughter, the gossip, the drama. It was fun, though you weren't expecting much for yourself. You weren't being a downer or whatever (which was what James would definitely tell you), it was just that, if truth be told, you had learned not to hope too much in anything. Retrospective had taught you a long time ago that it would only tarnish the joy out of a perfectly good moment.
Today was a festive Saturday morning. Talks of the ball were echoing off the walls in a more persistent way than ever. Understandable for they only had a week left before the festivities, anxiety and anticipation were sure rising.
You were just about to enter The Great Hall, the comforting smell of good breakfast already reached your nose, before someone suddenly threw their arms around you from the back, throwing you off balance a bit, his warmth enveloping you. James Potter.
Funny how someone's laugh could be so familiar to one's ears.
"How are you in this fine lovely morning?" The bespectacled boy greeted you as you turned around, eyes meeting his, your lips turned upward mirroring his smile. He really did have the most annoying charming smile. It was infectious.
"Freezing to death," you responded, slinging his arm around your shoulders as both of you walked the rest of the way to the hall. "Where are the others?”
"Already there," he scoffed, and continued on dramatically, "They left me to fend for myself!"
"To be fair, you are a heavy sleeper."
"You're one to talk," he grinned at you, "Why do you think both of us are the last ones to arrive?"
And he hit it right. You straightened up, ready to defend yourself. "Well, look–"
But he was way ahead of you. "Good book?" he smiled knowingly. And right again.
"So good," You nodded your head vigorously. "You should read it sometimes. I'll add that to your list." You waved your hand away casually, as if to say ‘done and done.’
"I look forward to reading it."
You smiled up at him, agreed. "Good, because you must." And before you could stop it, you went on telling him all about your reading from last night.
He didn't seem to mind, he never did. In fact, he always seemed to be interested in everything you had to say, so you continued. It had become a routine. You told him about a book he had never heard of, he told him about a match you had never watched.
James Potter was your best friend. Always had and always would be. The two of you had known each other since you were five and knew nothing and everything. Both of your parents had been best friends and it just progressed naturally. They would often spend the holidays and breaks together and so his house was yours as much as yours was his.
And when both of you got the Hogwarts letter at the age of eleven and were sorted into Gryffindor, it was inevitable that you grew even closer. Everything about him had become so familiar now. It was like you knew him at the back of your hand.
His favorite color, his favorite food, his favorite song. How his eyes brightened a bit when he laughed. The dimples that came with his smile. How he would bite his lip a bit when McGonagall caught him and his friends in their mischievous schemes, or when he was thinking of a lie to tell her.
How he liked to put his arm around your shoulder, or tucked it in the inside of your arm every time he saw you. His glasses that were always lopsided, and his hair that was always tousled. Just like it was right now.
Both of you sat down in front of Remus and Sirius, who were laughing about something. Crisp toast, bacon, and eggs on the plates completely abandoned. You eyed them closely and wondered how two people could be so oblivious to one another when they were sitting that close to each other. And look at Remus! He was almost red.
If only you did not have a sense of decency and could have it in you to interfere with these two, then maybe, just maybe, they'd finally admit their feelings and go to the Yule Ball together.
"Where's Wormtail?" James asked them, getting himself a plate of eggs and sausages. You decided to grab some toasts, marmalade, and some eggs.
"Don't know," Sirius shrugged. "Probably hatching a plan to ask Jane out."
"Doesn't she already have a date?" You asked him, confusion on your face.
"Not sure," Remus chimed in, "it's hard to keep track these days." True that.
The four of you talked some more. You and James tried multiple times trying to get these two to talk about their dates to the ball—or more like the lack of it—and did a bait and switch. And you were good at it, but boy were they better.
After their plates had emptied, Remus said that he was going to make a quick run at the library and Sirius, very subtly and casually, offered that he could come too because he was "bored." You and James could barely contain your smiles until they disappeared out of view.
He grabbed a bit of your toast, put some of his fruits on your plate in exchange for it, and asked, "So... what about you?"
"What about me?"
"Who are you going with to the dance?"
"Oh," you pondered a bit, biting one of the strawberries. "I don't know. I'm thinking of going by myself, maybe? I think it'd be fun."
"No one has asked you yet?" He asked, surprised.
You let out a laugh at his expression. "Don't pretend to be shocked now, James. I don't exactly have a line of people waiting to ask me out."
"People here have bad tastes then.” He concluded.
You shrugged, “I don’t mind. It’d be a pity spending the night with some stranger I don’t know, or even like, anyway. What about you and Lily?”
James' die-hard affection for the red-head girl was never a secret. The entire school knew it. It had been going on since first year and you doubted it would ever stop.
The way he always talked about her — with so much fondness and care. It was, the way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way she talked. But you noticed the way he looked at her too. It was like he fell in love every time he laid his eyes on her.
You figured that he was going to at least work up the courage to ask her out to the ball, even if it would only end up in vain, but no news from him so far. It was weird, like a sudden change of the weather. You had had to endure listening to him for what seemed like ages after Lily talked to him for the first time. And then another and another and another about his failed attempts at asking her out. What's with the quiet and silence now?
Was the fact that she turned him down again for the dance hurt him that bad? Oh, now you felt guilty for asking.
What was so strange, though, was that there wasn't sadness on his face now. No hidden pain or aches. Instead, he said, ever so casually, your toast in his hand "I haven't asked her yet."
You were taken aback, shocked, eyebrows scrunched up. "What?"
James' fruitless efforts with Lily was also very much widely known, but he was never ashamed of it. You couldn't remember the last time he passed an opportunity to confess his— as he said it —undying love for her.
"What, what do you mean you haven't asked her out?" You sputtered out.
He chuckled nervously at your response, raising his hands in trying to calm you down. "Is it really that surprising?"
"Considering the fact that you, James Potter, have been after her for like forever and never faltered in his efforts to make her know that he is head over heels for her, then I'd say, yeah. It's pretty surprising." You responded, baffled. "What changed?"
"Nothing! I just figured that she'd turn me down anyway and didn't bother. And then I heard she already accepted someone else's offer anyways." he shrugged.
"Oh," you put his hand in yours and gave it a squeeze. "I'm sorry."
James squeezed yours in return and gave you a smile. "Nothing to be sorry about. I'm fine, honestly." he assured you. “I think it might be for the best.”
Though you didn’t believe that, he did look fine. And James was never one to hide his feelings from you— in fact it was the total opposite, he was always ever so dramatic — so you took his words. You bit your lip and asked, "You want some tea?"
"What is it this time?" He asked as he took a bite of the egg.
You grabbed one of the teacups and gave it a sniff. "Oh," you scrunched up your nose from the smell, "Herbal, I think." you put it down. "That's a no then."
He groaned, "Why couldn't they just serve normal tea?"
"Because then we won't have a ‘refined’ palate." You rolled your eyes, quoting something Madam Pince had told you in the library for what seemed like a long time ago.
"That's a silly excuse for serving only herbal tea at breakfast."
You couldn't say that you disagree.
"So,” he started. “What are you doing today? Any plans?"
"No,” you shook your head, “Nothing much." You poured yourself a glass of orange juice and passed the jug to him. "I'll probably just read. You?"
He poured one himself and grinned at you. "That depends, you want to go to Hogsmeade?"
"Uh-oh," you let out a laugh, sensing trouble. "What are you up to?"
He gasped dramatically. "What do you mean ‘what are you up to?’ I am offended.” He placed a hand on his chest for good measure. “Could it be possible that maybe I just want to spend the day at Hogsmeade with my best friend?”
You raised your eyebrows at him.
He laughed. “I’m not going to do anything, honestly. And It'll be fun, I promise!" he nudged you. "We haven't gone there in a while." Well, that was true.
"It's cold," you argued.
"I have an extra coat if you want double."
"It will be very crowded."
"Then we'll find some place no one knows."
"That's impossible."
"Anything is possible, love. Please." He pleaded, looking at you with his big doe eyes. It was so unfair of the world to give someone such gorgeous brown eyes and left the others to dust. So unfair.
You sighed, letting out at last. He would be the death of you one of these days. "Fine," — which brought a whispered "Yes!" from him— "But we're going to have to visit the quill shop."
"Consider it done."
──────────────────∘
Hogsmeade was truly beautiful in the winter. Its snow-covered roads, the orange lights visible in every shop, and the chattering crowds in their coats and scarves. Though the hits of cold wind on your face made you shiver, you were glad that you decided to go. And that you were with James. His arms around your shoulders provided you warmth just as much as his breath on your cheeks did.
As promised, both of you visited Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. James had complained at first and tried to negotiate by saying you should "save the best for last" and head to Zonko's instead to open the trip, but after both of you saw the line the place'd formed, he agreed that maybe quills were more fascinating.
"Why are there so many types of ink?" he whispered loudly at you as he examined the shelves, "Who cares if it's lavender purple or lilac purple? They're purple!"
"Lots of people do." You answered before quietly squealing to him after finding a rare gem. "Look!"
You pushed the ink bottles to his face so he'd read the label. "Rainbow ink?"
"Rainbow ink!" You nodded excitedly.
"You do not need rainbow ink, love." He shook his head but couldn't force back the affectionate smile that had appeared on his face.
"Just like you don't need those hand-biting teacups or whatever from Zonko's, and yet here we are." You hummed giddily as you grabbed one of the brand new boxes of rainbow ink from the shelf.
"It's nose-biting teacups— please don't take the fun out of it," he corrected you, "and yes I do need it! It's fun! Trashy fun, but fun!”
"Whatever you say, love." Something caught your attention and you immediately grabbed the cuff of his shirt. "Oh! Let's look here!"
With the rainbow ink tucked safely in your coat pocket, you and James walked out of the shop and visited Zonko's. He recounted all of the items he had once bought and how he had used them up, mostly with Sirius. He ended up getting something called Inflatable Tongue (for what you didn't want to know) before both of you walked out.
You turned to him with a glint in your eyes. "Honeydukes?"
He returned the mischief and grinned. "I thought you'd never ask. Time?"
You thought it over, looking at the clock nailed onto the wall of the shop through the glass.
“Five minutes,” you pointed out. “Letter?”
"B,” he decided as he rubbed his gloved hands together. "Ready?"
"One..." you looked over at him, I'm going to obliterated you.
"Two…”
“Three.. Go!" you declared before both of you ran to the brightly colored store.
You and James had many traditions. This was one of them.
The challenge was simple. You only had to find as many candies as possible that started with the decided letter in those few minutes.
It had started with a silly argument in second year, about who knew more about sweets and, later on, the knowledge of Hogsmeade's own candy shop's stocks and products. You only had been able to visit by third year of course, and the real game had only begun there, but the fire was already established way before.
Your friend, Marlene, thought it was stupid, and so did the rest of the Marauders, but there was something to be said about the similar stubbornness you two had. Sirius had said they were eerily alike.
You and James entered the shop with thrill and jumpy nerves, but were still decent enough to try not to run like little children that would definitely result in getting kicked out. Like that time both of you visited those muggles candy stores over a summer when you were younger. Lessons were learned.
You immediately went to the right part of the store, claiming the territory. Directed by your decision, James went to the left.
You knew the store well. James didn’t know it, but you had been visiting this cheerful shop a lot recently. Mostly because Mary was so down after her breakup with her toxic ex and these treats are one of the things that could cheer her up. But on the side, you had done your research. The Bs were on this side of the store.
Bolandi’s Exquisite Crystallized Pineapple. Blood-flavored lollipop. Bat’s Blood Soup? Gross. And some chunks of brownies.
Five minutes passed, and with James only got Bertie’s and bubblegums, you came out of the shop victorious.
You jumped and threw your hands in the air. “And miss y/l/n won again. Thank you, thank you.” You bowed to a nonexistent audience.
He only smiled at you. “Don’t be so proud now. Remember, miss y/l/n, I am still the running champion here. 3-2” he reminded you with a smug smile on his face.
You shrugged. “That won’t be hard to feat, you mark my words.“ you offered him a look into your paper bag. “Want to try some?”
“What’s new?”
“Bat’s blood soup.” Your nose wrinkled at the name. “He said that it’s actually chocolate, but the name is too off putting.”
“It’d be good with strawberries,” he offered. “We can grab some from dinner later.”
You nodded your head as both of you made your way through the village. “I think Mary would like it too anyways.”
“Oh, right.” James said. He and Mary weren’t close but they were friendly, especially from being past neighbors and all. “How is she these days?”
“Better every day I'm sure. It’s for the best, Matt’s an asshole.”
“We can only hope that that itching powder will find its way real soon.” he grinned at their latest form of tricks. “Or maybe during the Yule Ball actually. That would be so much better.”
You snorted. “Usually I would say that’s cruel, but he deserves it. We thank you for your service.” You continued solemnly.
He waved his hand as if tipping off his hat. “And you are so very welcome.”
Both of you walked through the well-lit village. Talking about everything and nothing, laughing at that student making a fool of himself in one of the shops, and slipped some bites of the crystallized pineapples.He asked you about how far into the book you were now, and you asked him about his Quidditch team and whether the newest member– someone from year two, you believed–was still afraid of heights.
James had his left arm around you and your gloved hands were holding his–the one near your neck–fighting for some sense of warmth. You and James hadn’t done this in a while and you’d forgotten how much you missed it. You looked up at him as he was talking about the second-year boy and saw the flecks of snow scattered on his face, his askew glasses, and his jet black hair. It made him look a tad bit adorable, you thought. His brown eyes that had that bit of green in them were alight with something so charmingly infectious that you couldn’t help but smile.
You looked at him as he talked about the latest match, his right hand going everywhere as he was talking at the speed of 893 miles per hour. You loved seeing him talk excitedly about something. There was just something so beautiful in hearing the people you cared about talk about things that they cared about so passionately and ardently, no matter how trivial they may be. It was like you were trusted enough to see this crazy side of them. It’s nice.
A group of third-years passed by and you heard them complaining about not being able to go to the ball yet. Something about dances, dresses and suits, and dying alone.
"Oh," you fought a smile to keep it from surfacing as you remembered a particular last week incident. “How are your dance moves coming along?"
He groaned. “Not this again. You're trying not to laugh."
"I'm not!" but a chortle escaped you either way. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I know you're trying your best."
"I am!" he whined. "It's just really hard and Padfoot isn't exactly the best dance partner for practicing," he grumbled.
"Steps-on-you-shoes kind of bad or doesn't-catch-you-after-the-spin-that-you-end-up-falling kind of bad?" You said with a smile and with raised eyebrows.
He rolled his eyes as he revealed a sheepish smile. As if he could forget. "I said I'm sorry."
“I know. but it was right there. I couldn't not do it.”
A week ago, in the empty common room at night, James had asked you to teach him the basic dance steps most people used for the ball. Despite his mother's graces for it, you found that her son was very much an amateur.
He kept stepping on your foot and collided with you as he took the wrong directions. You were laughing and kept saying that it was fine, but he still apologized every other second of it.
The ending to the attempts was a disaster. A playful one for you, but he seemed very embarrassed of it. You had suggested the spin—and honestly it was your fault to have recommended it in the first place when it had only been an hour and a half—and as he tried to pull you back, he might have tugged your hand a bit too hard and you ended up crashing into one another. Your figure on top of his, his hands on your waist.
His cheeks had turned slightly red, and yours had grown hot as the fall stopped and you found your face so close to his. Your eyes inevitably found his brown ones and you felt his rapid breaths on your skin. His eyes have a little bit of green in them, like stars, your mind wandered before catching yourself. You let out a slight awkward cough and tried to laugh it off as you made yourself stand up.
He gave you a string of apologies afterward, and although you had assured him that it was all in good fun, he never asked you to teach him again. You kind of wished he would, for reasons you couldn't quite explain, but you didn't want to push him when he had turned to Sirius to "let the failures just befall on him", as he'd said it.
"But, either way, have you improved under the capable hands of Sirius Black, Mr. Potter?" you asked him now, an eyebrow raised.
"Well, he's definitely not as capable as you." He gave you an admiring smile, and you almost looked away from it. Taking compliments was never one of your talents. Especially if you felt undeserved of it.
"Well, it might come to you as a surprise, but what we learned was the easy part. I'm an intermediate myself." Deflected and dodged.
He laughed. "Either way, you're still graceful at it. You know, the incident did happen again. With Sirius."
You snorted. "What?"
"Yeah. Luckily, it's still in the privacy of our dorm. so it's good."
"I'd give money to see that."
"Would never let that happen in a million years."
“With the way things are going, I might. The dance is a public affair.”
“I’d have to get better by next week then.” He said it solemnly like it was a promise, but he probably was kidding. That small child-like smile on his face said it all.
You had walked to the empty side of the village. You didn't think there was one, but the snow covered streets around you were scarce of people. Only a few passersby before they too disappeared into the warm shelter of a wooden shop. Just the way you preferred it.
A sudden thought crossed your mind and before you could even give it a second thought, your mouth decided to give it a voice. "You want to try again?"
He looked around, his snow flecked eyebrows raising, and his smile tinted with a hint of amusement. "Here?"
Well now you wished you hadn't. But, playing along was always better than an embarrassed "never mind, that was stupid" right?
"Well, yes!" you told him as if you definitely didn't have any second thoughts at all. "Almost no one’s here. Besides," You continued with a light feather edge on your words. "I heard it's freeing to dance in the cold December wind."
He shot you with one of his cheeky smiles. "Is that so?" before putting on his thinking face, a guess on the tip of his tongue. "Romance?" He ventured.
"Partly. It's a coming-of-age drama and such." You corrected him. "It's also on our winter list for this year you'll see."
"Can't wait." and he meant it. But only because, "I hope you'll also like that match tape I got of a muggles' football match. They're entertaining too to say the least."
After years of being best friends together, he had learned that you liked to talk in quotes from the books you'd read and the movies you'd watched. And after years of spending winter and summer breaks together watching and listening to the muggles' form of entertainment media, it was like you shared the same frequency. He could guess which type of movies or shows or songs you had probably heard the saying from, and you could guess which sport match did he reference that joke from.
It was a whole different game. Total number of players : two.
He stopped in his tracks, letting his arm fall from his shoulder, making your neck shudder a bit at the loss of warmth.
"So," he gave you a gentleman's bow—and a playful smile along with it—and offered his gloved hand. "May I have this dance?"
You almost let out a surprised laugh at the gesture. You took a ladylike bow, pinching the fabric of your invisible royal dress. "That depends," you said in an exaggerated accent, "are you able to do so without giving me a head injury?"
He returned the overplayed accent. "I shall make no promises. But, if i were to slip and let you fall, best believe I'd try my best to catch you."
On the usual days, you'd bring up Gwen Stacy falling into her demise in one of the remakes of the Spider-Man movies. How Peter wasn't able to catch her and she ended up dead. James would've gotten the reference—you had cried to him for hours after that first watch last summer—but you couldn't bring yourself to do it.
And yet instead, you were here, trying not to let the invisible red take too much space on your already freezing cheeks. You smiled, and it was a smile you couldn't contain. Not like others. It was one that just kept going wider and wider the more you looked at the beam plastered on his face until it wasn't physically possible anymore.
James, your head echoed his name as you mentally shook your head. A soft laugh escaped your lips. What have you done?
“We’re going to look stupid.” You admitted.
“Hey, it was your idea." He reminded you, his hand still stood in the air.
"It was a moment of foolery." But you took it.
The wind had started to pick up its course again and caused the snow to fall rapidly. Under the glow of the streetlights, you two danced and laughed. It started off as an attempt to the formal dance two would usually use at a ball, but after one or two or seven missteps, you agreed that maybe you should start over.
There was no music to accompany you but there was a faint piano playing from one of the shops. It whispered gently with the wind that swept you and James' rowdy steps.
His laughters were echoing in your ears, into your mind. His breath was on your cheeks, and his gloved hand on your woolen one was a warming touch. His glasses were a bit askew, and a part of his hair that came out of his beanie was flecked with snow.
There was no rhyme nor reason to your steps or the placement change of your hands. It was so stupid and silly. One minute it was an amateur attempt at classic dances, and another you were fooling around as if you were at a house party.
It was nice. Like you two were five again and you knew nothing and everything. Childhood innocence, where have you gone?
There were a lot of things you were late to realize about your friendship with James. You guessed you didn’t really think much about a friendship that had started since you could remember. It had always just been there, all your life. So long that you couldn’t imagine a life without it. A steadfast thing, the most you ever had one with someone that used to be a stranger to you.
You couldn’t even imagine that now. James Potter, a stranger. It felt so wrong. You had known too much about him, he had known too much about you. He was memorized in your mind.
From his hazel brown eyes that felt like the warm hearth of your home every time you looked at them, to the quirk of his lips and the gentleness of his smile.
To his voice that had once become a soothing presence after you had had paranoid nightmares about one of the people you knew dying. To the sound of his laughter that accompany the hot days in June and the freezing weather of winter, like how it did right now.
How he would run his hands through his hair when he was frustrated or didn’t know what to do. Or how his handwriting looked and how the Gs and Ys are always so sloppy and how the Ss barely look like one.
And so many things. So many other things you couldn’t imagine living without. Maybe this was just you being too present in a moment that you couldn’t think of it being ripped away and making you not be there anymore, but you weren’t sure.
You looked at him, and it was like the rest of the world fell away. His eyes had stars in them and his cheeks were red from the cold.
Your thoughts raced in a hundred miles per hour as your breaths and the pulse in your veins tried to catch up. All of them were beating to get out of your skin and onto the snow. They all had the same jitters, the same sound, and the same beat. And they all were talking in one unison, a whisper of the name of the person in front of you.
James Potter. James Potter. James. Oh. Oh.
It was a moment too late before you realized you had not been watching your steps and tripped yourself over a good mound of snow.
“Woah, woah” You started as you fell forward onto the snow, with your hands still on James’.
You heard the soft thump of the snow hitting James’ head, as your body fell on top of his. The rough old material of his father's coat met with your similar one. Your eyes were inches from his and so were your lips. You didn’t know what to think, your mind just went blank at the sudden proximity.
You should— wait, what should you do? You should— right, oh my god, apologize!
Fighting your inner thoughts and denying its claims, you immediately got up. Maybe too quickly for nonchalance but your racing brain didn’t have time to think it through. Not when it was jammed with mixed and confused signals from your heart.
“James! I’m so so sorry!” you offered him your hand and pulled him to stand, brushing off the snow from his coat. “Sorry, I wasn’t in my mind for that one second. Sorry.”
You couldn’t meet his eyes, or even look at him—which almost never was a problem before, at least not because of this kind of… thing— so you resumed correcting his lopsided beanie.
He just laughed though. All casual as if you didn’t just find a big revelation. “It’s okay, it’s fine.” He tried to assure you. But you still wouldn’t stop, so he took hold of your hands to stop them from fixing his woolen headwear.
Great, now you were forced to look at him. You just hoped the cold weather was still a believable reason to cover up for whatever your face may look like now. Flushed, probably. But hopefully not too embarrassed.
You looked at his face, a trace of mirth still on his lips that were so close to you a minute ago. His face was kinda red too, but it was probably because of the season.
“It’s okay,” he assured you again. “You know,” an end to his smile turned a bit more upward and you knew that a tease was coming. “You reminded me of an old me,” he continued breezily, “i made this same mistake too back then. When i was more foolish.”
You couldn’t help but let out a snort. James, james. Alright, just let things—and especially you—calm down a little, you told yourself. Let everything go back to normal.
“You mean a week ago, old man?” You lightly punched his arm, before dusting off the snow from your own coat.
“Time is relative. Miles Morales said it himself.” He said as he helped you brush the snow out of your hair and coat. “Or actually it was Ernest whatnot but whatever.”
You let out a breath of laughter as you shook your head. His glasses were crooked so your hands automatically went up to fix it. Like you had done so many times. “There. It was crooked.” You heard yourself explaining.
“Thanks,” he said with that stupid silly smile of his. You hated that smile now. How can one have such a charismatic smile? It wasn’t fair.
“No problem, wise man.” You responded with your new-found nickname for him, playfully rolling your eyes.
“Seaweed brain," He called back, and that made you smile– you didn’t even realize it.
You gave him a nod of approval. "The Percy Jackson reference. Touché."
"I've learned sooo much from you." He said solemnly.
"I know." You smiled up at him. And he looked right into your eyes, that blinding smile of his radiating onto them before suddenly averting his gaze onto the ground, where evidence of your very own accident made a mark on the snow.
James rubbed his hands together, searching for warmth. "Hey, you want to go to the Three Broomsticks? It’ll probably be emptier now.” He offered, like he always did because he was your friend. Your best friend since you could remember.
You didn’t know why you were acting weird. It was only an hour ago when everything was normal. You didn’t know how everything could just change in a matter of seconds. He was your friend, it would be okay. However this would unfold, everything would be fine. Both of you had always overcome things before. It was with James, you two would get through it. You were grateful to have him.
“Oh yeah sure.” You agreed. Wait, was that too quick of a response? Oh fuck it. He was your best friend, he had known you all his life too—which was exactly why if there was something off with you, he’d definitely be the first person to notice it, but you didn’t want to think about it too much. You shook your heads to clear all maddening thoughts. “Have you heard from Frank? Haven’t gone there in a while.”
“Oh, yeah he’s great.” He continued in a whisper, “I heard he has just received a new package of fire whiskey and Sirius and I are hoping to get a snatch of it or two. You know, for the house.”
“Right, for the house,” You rolled your eyes.
He lent out a hand to you, "Shall we?"
You took it and he gave it a soft squeeze, its grip sending vibrations through your bones.
"We shall."
───────────────∘
James was right, it wasn't as crowded as it would be if you had come earlier. Most people here had their drink and company either at noon or late afternoon and night. 3 pm wasn't exactly a busy hour. Though there were still too many people and noises for your comfort, you and James could at least find a table for two in the corner, quieter spot.
He came to the table holding two butterbeers in his hand. Both served hot to minimize the cold. He slid yours down the table and took a seat in front of you. His glasses are turned slightly uneven again.
"So, y/n" he started as you picked up your drink and sighed at the heat it gave you. Your hands were absolutely freezing.
"Hm?" You responded, more focused on the comforting smell that radiated from your cup.
"I've been thinking," He continued, and now you looked up. You were so distracted before that you didn't notice how his hands were moving as if he were drumming his thighs under the table— a habit he often did when he was nervous.
You furrowed your eyebrows for a second but decided to ignore it. "Uh-oh. Nothing good ever comes up from that." You took a careful sip of the butterbeer, its warmth traveled all through your withered body. "New horrible trick ideas?"
He rolled his eyes, a breathy laugh came out of his lips. "Why is it that you always always think the worst of me, miss y/l/n?"
Just this morning, at the Great Hall, every part of you was functioning alright. Nothing going haywire. But now, there was a skipped beat in your heart and a flip in your stomach. You tried to deflect it but the butterflies couldn't be bothered.
"I don't always always think the worst of you James. I just know you." You did, you really did. You wondered if he knew it though.
"Well, I bet you wouldn't guess what's going to come out of my mouth this time." He claimed in a challenging tone.
You raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"Five guesses." He grinned as he pulled up five fingers to illustrate his point. "No retracting."
"Alright then," You accepted the challenge. You silently thought to yourself before voicing it all aloud. "Wasn't a trick, so maybe you are... planning to do something to the Marauders? Like, I don't know, maybe get those two idiots together to the ball?"
He pulled down a finger. "You know, maybe I should. But that wasn't it. You were kinda close though."
Close where? “Sirius and Remus?”
He made a loud incorrect buzzer sound and pulled down another finger.
“Hey, that wasn’t-”
“No retracting,” he reminded you, as he took a sip of his own beverage.
“Not fair,” you grumbled. You thought about it again before guessing, “Oh! Yule Ball shenanigans? Oh wait no-“
Another buzzer sound, and two fingers left. “My, you really don’t know me, do you y/n?” He feigned a dramatic hurt on his face and a slight pout. “You’re close though.”
About the dance? What’s about the dance? “What, you’re going to skip the ball?” You said it as a joke but he wasn’t laughing. In fact, there was just a trace of truth in that smile of his when you said it. “What, I’m right?”
“No. But that depends actually.”
“You’re talking in riddles.”
“Yeah, it’s fun, isn’t it?” His smile had a slight smirk now, like it was still held back or something. “That counted as incorrect by the way.” He made another buzzer sound and one finger left.
You sighed in frustration. The Yule Ball, but it wasn’t about any tricks. So what? Oh. The realization hit you as you felt your heart drop. It was so silly, but bad timing, James. Bad timing.
“You’re finally going to try and ask someone else to go to the ball with you?” You voiced out your thoughts, hoping there wasn’t a hint that could suggest something else; reluctance and hesitation. What, did he meet her in the hallway before you two went out or something?
He pulled his lips together and gave you a small shrug. “Close,” he concluded. “But again that depends.”
You sighed. “Alright, fine. I give up. I surrender. Just tell me.” You almost pleaded with him.
“You’re my best friend, right?”
Right. Best friend. Of course. You nodded. “Mhm.”
“So…” he stopped, like he was nervous to get the words out. That was weird.
A worse idea came to mind.Oh please don’t tell me he’s going to ask me to become his fake date for the ball to make Lily jealous, you silently desperately prayed. It would’ve been easy if it had been any other week before, but not this week. Not today. And specifically not at this hour, when you were still processing everything.
“Will you…” he continued hesitantly, his fingers playing with a loose thread on one of his gloves, a smile fighting to still be displayed on his lips. “Give me the honor and go with me to the dance?"
You said nothing, only slightly raised your eyebrows in surprise. That depends. You didn’t want to let the fireworks surround you. Skepticism came first, as it always had to.
But your silence seemed to jittered him, and he immediately jumped to explanation. “You know, because we’re best friends, and none of us have a date, and I don't know, I thought it would be fun? To go together. As friends. Casual thing. You know.” He shrugged.
You let out a smile at that, and it seemed to relax him a bit. Why was he so nervous? Of course you’d go with him. You were his best friend, and he was yours, he knew that. “Well, you are not a stranger I don't know or even like.” You joked.
He gave you a grin at that. “No, I’m not. So, you’d go? With me, I mean?”
He was cuter when he was nervous, it wasn’t fair. Why was he nervous again? You’d understand if it was you who were nervous, but why was he?
You couldn’t focus on anything besides the annoyingly loud flutter in your heart—and how hard you are trying to beat and stomp it to death right now. This doesn’t mean anything, it was just a friendly gesture. James was in love with Lily, there was no question, of course.
But you still felt the butterflies on your stomach go wild. You were fighting to contain that smile on your face, scared he’d figure out it wasn’t just any casual thing for you. You were going to the ball with your best friend and you realized there was no else you’d rather go with.
“Of course, James. You’re my best friend!” You smiled up at him, the warmth coming through your gloves from the hot drink was now small compared to the thrill that coursed through your body. “Though do you have a written contract for possible head damage compensation because I might need it.”
He shook his head, a slight relieved laughter came out of his lips. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love me because of it.” You were only teasing, but you thought he looked at you with such sincerity in his eyes that it jarred your senses a bit.
hii! could you do peeta melark x reader? just some domestic sunday morning cuddling :) thanks so much!
'cause it's gravity, keeping you with me
peeta mellark x reader | word count : 931 | requested
a/n : hii!! to be honest, i wasn't really sure on how to write this so i'm really sorry if this wasn't what you had in mind, but i tried my best, and i hope you'll enjoy reading it either way! :) thank you for the request < 33 (also yes, i know the picture i chose doesn’t quite match the theme of this fic but look at him!! and look at that golden light on his face!!!)
contains : baddd writing. fluff -> soft intimacy!! but a bit of angst too if you squint. you know, longings and a sense of vulnerability. feelings of hopelessness and despair in the past. let me know if there's more!
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the soft morning sun drifted its way to your face, resting its warm light against your closed eyes. you were just about to give yourself an excuse to sleep in a bit later before you subconsciously remembered that, today is a sunday. no business in waking up early then, you thought, as you pulled the blanket closer.
you shifted a bit and shuffled in closer to peeta’s body next to you. His breathing met at the same pace as yours and his heartbeat the same thrum as the one you had going.
peeta mellark. you knew it was silly to dwell on what could have and would have, but every day, each morning, as you woke up to his comforting presence next to you, you couldn’t help but wonder, what would your life have become, if he hadn’t been there to keep it going?
the war had destroyed everything, leaving trails of loss in its path, wider than the land itself. you didn’t know what you would have done, if you hadn’t seen him again. if he hadn’t come back to your life and reminded you that there were still reasons to live and try to heal for.
and every day you woke up feeling more grateful than the day before.
you didn’t know if an hour had passed, or had it been merely minutes later, when you felt peeta’s arms on your waist, pulling you back onto his chest, engulfing you in more of his warmth, his comfort. his head nested on the crook of your neck, his messy golden blonde hair on your cheek.
in response and out of habit, you brought your hands to his curls, smoothing them softly.
“y/n, sweetheart?” he muttered, and you could feel his lips on your shoulder, sending vibrations onto your skin and bone. it was crazy how he could still make your heart skipped a beat like it was the first time.
“hm?” you responded, still not ready to part with sleep too much to say anything else.
his lips lost touch with your skin and moved on to your ear, whispering, “turn around, look at me please.”
and so you slowly did. with your eyes still refusing to open, you felt his fingers playing with your hair, pulling them off your forehead.
“morning, sleepyhead.” he chuckled, and you could tell that he was playfully rolling his eyes. he kissed your temple slowly, and you let your eyes flutter open.
rubbing your hands on your eyes in an effort to erase the sleep out of them, you mumbled, “how are you already awake? it’s sunday.”
“old habits die hard,” he’d answered before you felt his hands on your wrists, stroking them softly with his thumbs.
you placed your arms around his chest, and as if on cue, he pulled you closer to him, earning him a soft sigh. “do you think it’s physically possible for us to get any closer?” he wondered aloud with a way too cute smile on his face.
still not entirely conscious, you muttered without thinking, “maybe once our bodies have withered into skeletons." oh, you caught yourself. “oh wait, that's dark.”
he let out a light laugh at your scrunched up eyebrows. “i love you.”
you looked up at him, into his deep beautiful blue eyes. his eyelashes are so long. “i love you too, peet.”
and you did, you really did. you told him that everyday, but you never did think it was enough. it was so dramatic to actually utter it, but you truly didn’t think there was enough variety in the english dictionary to fully capture this. this thing that passed between you and him.
as if hearing your quiet thoughts, maybe your eyes had displayed a moment of fragility in them, he responded saying, “i know, love, i know.”
the grip on your waist held on tighter, like it was scared if it faltered, then it would lose. you mirrored his gesture and snuggled your head further into his chest, the top of your head touching his chin.
“you want to get some breakfast?” he mumbled into your tousled hair.
you thought about it for a second, but then shook your head. you looked up at him, a wide smile etched onto your face. “no, i’m good here.”
you didn’t want to leave this yet, this sacred place. one where you could feel his signs of life all around you, one where you could shut the entire world all around you and its bleak reality and made it only consist of you and him. peeta mellark.
was it possible to fall further in love with the same person every time you heard his name in your head? was it possible to have the same name echoed through your head over and over like a promise?
you saw his lips formed into a bigger smile, his fingers played with the strands of your hair.
maybe you knew, maybe you didn’t, but all he could think about at this very moment was how he had gotten so lucky. to have you here beside him, letting him love you and and letting him show it to you. he looked at your face, with that big smile on it, eyes still bleary from sleep. you were so beautiful, my god.
he nodded, agreed. he didn’t want to leave too. if he could stay here forever, he would. it would be like having lived a lifetime itself, he thought. “yeah, me too." he said softly as he planted a kiss on your forehead.
hii! could you do peeta melark x reader? just some domestic sunday morning cuddling :) thanks so much!
'cause it's gravity, keeping you with me
peeta mellark x reader | word count : 931 | requested
a/n : hii!! to be honest, i wasn't really sure on how to write this so i'm really sorry if this wasn't what you had in mind, but i tried my best, and i hope you'll enjoy reading it either way! :) thank you for the request < 33 (also yes, i know the picture i chose doesn’t quite match the theme of this fic but look at him!! and look at that golden light on his face!!!)
contains : baddd writing. fluff -> soft intimacy!! but a bit of angst too if you squint. you know, longings and a sense of vulnerability. feelings of hopelessness and despair in the past. let me know if there's more!
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the soft morning sun drifted its way to your face, resting its warm light against your closed eyes. you were just about to give yourself an excuse to sleep in a bit later before you subconsciously remembered that, today is a sunday. no business in waking up early then, you thought, as you pulled the blanket closer.
you shifted a bit and shuffled in closer to peeta’s body next to you. His breathing met at the same pace as yours and his heartbeat the same thrum as the one you had going.
peeta mellark. you knew it was silly to dwell on what could have and would have, but every day, each morning, as you woke up to his comforting presence next to you, you couldn’t help but wonder, what would your life have become, if he hadn’t been there to keep it going?
the war had destroyed everything, leaving trails of loss in its path, wider than the land itself. you didn’t know what you would have done, if you hadn’t seen him again. if he hadn’t come back to your life and reminded you that there were still reasons to live and try to heal for.
and every day you woke up feeling more grateful than the day before.
you didn’t know if an hour had passed, or had it been merely minutes later, when you felt peeta’s arms on your waist, pulling you back onto his chest, engulfing you in more of his warmth, his comfort. his head nested on the crook of your neck, his messy golden blonde hair on your cheek.
in response and out of habit, you brought your hands to his curls, smoothing them softly.
“y/n, sweetheart?” he muttered, and you could feel his lips on your shoulder, sending vibrations onto your skin and bone. it was crazy how he could still make your heart skipped a beat like it was the first time.
“hm?” you responded, still not ready to part with sleep too much to say anything else.
his lips lost touch with your skin and moved on to your ear, whispering, “turn around, look at me please.”
and so you slowly did. with your eyes still refusing to open, you felt his fingers playing with your hair, pulling them off your forehead.
“morning, sleepyhead.” he chuckled, and you could tell that he was playfully rolling his eyes. he kissed your temple slowly, and you let your eyes flutter open.
rubbing your hands on your eyes in an effort to erase the sleep out of them, you mumbled, “how are you already awake? it’s sunday.”
“old habits die hard,” he’d answered before you felt his hands on your wrists, stroking them softly with his thumbs.
you placed your arms around his chest, and as if on cue, he pulled you closer to him, earning him a soft sigh. “do you think it’s physically possible for us to get any closer?” he wondered aloud with a way too cute smile on his face.
still not entirely conscious, you muttered without thinking, “maybe once our bodies have withered into skeletons." oh, you caught yourself. “oh wait, that's dark.”
he let out a light laugh at your scrunched up eyebrows. “i love you.”
you looked up at him, into his deep beautiful blue eyes. his eyelashes are so long. “i love you too, peet.”
and you did, you really did. you told him that everyday, but you never did think it was enough. it was so dramatic to actually utter it, but you truly didn’t think there was enough variety in the english dictionary to fully capture this. this thing that passed between you and him.
as if hearing your quiet thoughts, maybe your eyes had displayed a moment of fragility in them, he responded saying, “i know, love, i know.”
the grip on your waist held on tighter, like it was scared if it faltered, then it would lose. you mirrored his gesture and snuggled your head further into his chest, the top of your head touching his chin.
“you want to get some breakfast?” he mumbled into your tousled hair.
you thought about it for a second, but then shook your head. you looked up at him, a wide smile etched onto your face. “no, i’m good here.”
you didn’t want to leave this yet, this sacred place. one where you could feel his signs of life all around you, one where you could shut the entire world all around you and its bleak reality and made it only consist of you and him. peeta mellark.
was it possible to fall further in love with the same person every time you heard his name in your head? was it possible to have the same name echoed through your head over and over like a promise?
you saw his lips formed into a bigger smile, his fingers played with the strands of your hair.
maybe you knew, maybe you didn’t, but all he could think about at this very moment was how he had gotten so lucky. to have you here beside him, letting him love you and and letting him show it to you. he looked at your face, with that big smile on it, eyes still bleary from sleep. you were so beautiful, my god.
he nodded, agreed. he didn’t want to leave too. if he could stay here forever, he would. it would be like having lived a lifetime itself, he thought. “yeah, me too." he said softly as he planted a kiss on your forehead.
