tsuchann - Tumblr blog

tsuchann · 1 year

Text

your hand, forever | james potter x reader

“I didn’t tell you,” he said, words like spun silver from his lips, “how beautiful you look today. Forgive me.”

Your heart rocketed. You took as subtle a steadying breath as you could manage, using the very tip of your index finger to push a misbehaved wave from his face. He waited patiently, his eyes drifting shut at your touch.

You dropped your hand. “So tell me,” you said, as bravely as you could.

summary you ask James to pretend to be your boyfriend. he always says yes. [6k]

warnings fake!dating, pining, marauders era, basically a love note for james. fem!reader, fluff, intimacy

requested here

"James," you murmured, edging into his space where he was standing at the bar. Mary said he’d be here and, hallelujah, there he stood.

He rolled his eyes, glancing from his friends and then down to you. "What do you want, shortcake?"

You held back a scowl, determined to be as nice to him as possible. You were hardly short. Much. At all. He was just tall. And he knew you hated the nickname either way.

"I need a favour."

His eyes softened just a smidge at your tone.

"Anything you want," he said.

You looked out of the corner of your eye at Sirius who was listening intently and Remus who was pretending not to be.

"Can I ask you in private? Sorry."

Remus cleared his throat. "Is something the matter?"

"No, it's nothing. Just a secret," you said, attempting to smile at him beguilingly.

James sent the boys a blinding what can you do smile and threw his arm over your shoulder, steering you both from the prying eyes of the local and out into the biting early spring cold.

"What's your issue?" You pulled out from under his hold to wrap your arms around yourself. "C'mon, you're making me nervous. You killed someone?"

"What? James, no!"

"You're pregnant." You laughed weakly. His face went white. "You're not!"

"I'm not!" you rushed to say. "No. Sorry."

"’Sorry sorry sorry‘. Don’t be. You didn't kill someone and you're not pregnant — I can fix whatever this is."

"My hero Jamie, always trying to fix things," you sang, trying your best to cheer up. "It's not so terrible, I'm only shy 'cos I'm afraid to ask you, not cause it's the end of the world.”

"Rip off the plaster and ask, then. I’ll say yes,” he said, patient where he leaned against the pub's brickwork.

"I know. I think that's why I'm afraid to ask." He raised his eyebrows. You looked at his hands and asked. "Will you pretend to be my boyfriend?"

His easy smile slowly faded.

"What?"

"For Alice's wedding. Please? Just for the wedding."

"I'll be your date, whatever you want."

"No… I- I'm just…" you covered your mouth with the back of your hand before closing your eyes, clenching your fist and pushing it out awkwardly. "Georgia Finningley said I'm not the kind of girl who gets a boyfriend. That she couldn't see me with someone. And I know she didn't mean it to be mean, and it wasn't mean, and I know I'm being silly, but-"

"When did she say that to you?"

"Last week, after Lily's."

"She said that to you in front of the other girls?" he asked, eyebrows scrunched together.

"No. We were- we were out on the mezzanine."

"Smoking?"

You warmed. "That's not the point."

"You're right, it's not. I'll come back to the smoking after." He stepped closer to your side, not touching but close. "She said it to be mean."

"I know," you admitted.

"I know you know."

You stood in silence, two blades of grass in the wind. His hair was ruffled by the breeze, skin warm in the dreary landscape. He was always the warmest thing in sight, even in summer.

"I'll be your boyfriend."

"Thank you.”

"But, and you know this about me already, I won't do anything by halves. Alright?"

"Right."

"We need at least a few public sightings before the wedding so people will believe it. And I'll have to lie to the boys. You'll have to lie to the girls."

"And then…"

"We’ll slowly fade off after the wedding and Finningley won't be any the wiser. We can say you broke up with me for being too handsome."

"Too irritating, more like."

"That too. If they're gonna believe us in love by Longbottom's wedding we're gonna have to put on a good show," he said excitedly, "you may be so lucky as to kiss me, you realise? We're gonna be so in love it makes other people sick."

"Thank you, James." You meant it. You knew he was offended on your behalf by what Georgia had said.

"I'm not doing it for you! Well, I am. But also 'cos I can't stand uppity wankers like Georgia fucking Finningley thinking they're judge and jury."

You fizzled. He opened his palm out in front of you and beckoned for you to take it. "We fancy each other starting now. Okay?" He was grinning too deviously for your liking.

You felt a little nauseous as you agreed, even worse when you followed him back inside the bar and found his friends sitting in a booth awaiting his return. He pulled you by the hand into the seat beside him and then dropped it like nothing had happened.

"We totally saw that," Sirius said, shocked.

Remus looked similarly surprised.

"Saw what?" James asked, taking an appreciative sip of his pint.

"You were holding hands!"

James raised his eyebrows, slipping his hand behind your back casually. "Are we five?"

Remus was at a loss for words. Sirius was enraged.

"What's happening?" Remus asked.

"What are you doing?" Sirius asked in turn.

You could feel yourself begin to sweat. James pressed his hand tight to the small of your back when he noticed your nerves before patting you firmly and pulling away.

"Nothing," he said. "She's tired."

"You're being all touchy."

"I'm always touchy."

"While I agree you're very sensitive, I think we're talking more about your sudden tactileness,” Remus cut in.

James snorted, peaking at you out the corner of his eye in a show of nervousness. "Don't know what you mean!"

"Mate, you just looked at her."

"Y/N," Sirius appealed to you, "he's not acting out of character?"

You shrugged and chuckled nervously. It wasn't fake.

"Are you two…?"

James said nothing. You, having been counting on him, also said nothing, which said enough for both Sirius and Remus to look blindsided.

"Since when?" Sirius demanded.

James smirked into his drink.

"Right, and your favour?" Remus asked smugly, zeroing in on your windblown appearance. "Little old to be tumbling in alleyways, aren't we?"

"We didn't-"

"Never too old for some fun," James said cheerily, then turned to you. "You want a drink, shortcake?"

"Yes," you said. You thought you'd probably need it.

You were standing outside Sirius Black's flat, nervous. Tonight was your official unveiling as a couple with James and most of your friends were going to be there among whatever company Sirius had deigned to invite. You'd worried yourself silly over the fact that James was probably going to get handsy because you desired it and knew you shouldn't, not knowing how to act in love enough to fool everyone and not in love enough to fool James.

The door cracked open, Sirius with a cigarette in hand.

"Oh, you creature. What're you loitering on my mat for?"

You crept back, eyes crinkling. "I was just about to knock."

"Sure you were. Cig?"

"Yes, please."

You accepted the cigarette and let your weight fall on his doorway, let him light it for you. You took a careful first drag and smiled as your throat burned.

"Don't tell James."

"I won't tell your boyfriend, but he'll know."

"How?" you asked, pushing off the doorway to flick ash over his railing. Sirius grinned manically under the stoop, overhead lights painting him stark pale.

"He'll taste it."

Noise from the party drifted out the door. "Big crowd tonight."

"Nah, they're all alright. Long as someone keeps Marl off the peach snapps it'll be a quiet one."

His definition of a quiet one was different to everyone else's, evidently, as things were getting quite rowdy inside after you'd finished your indulgent cig. You vaguely recalled most people's names and found yourself familiarly tucked into the group of girls, Lily and Mary having acquired a tray of jello shots.

"And where've you got all these?" you asked Mary.

She shook her head and tapped the side of her nose. "Secret."

"C'mon, I hate secrets."

"Don't we all!" Marlene said to you. "Ironic considering a little birdie told me something interesting about you this morning."

"Yeah?"

"Very, very interesting," she said, nodding.

"If it's the same thing I heard then I'm very mad at you," Lily said. You froze up and she laughed. "For not telling us!"

The girls had all leaned in for your confession.

"It just happened. I don't know when. Suddenly, we're together."

You smiled like you couldn't help it, picking at your nails. Your group of friends giggled and cheered, Mary forcing a shot into your hand. "This is a cause for celebration," she declared, similarly appointing each girl with their own jelly. Emmeline stared down at hers apprehensively. "Do it for Y/N," Mary said pointedly.

Emma took her shot and groaned. "Congratulations," she said hoarsely. "I'm not doing another one."

The rest of you took your own shots.

"I really hadn't expected it. You've been firmly in James Potter's friend zone since third year,” Dorcas began.

"I asked him out one time!"

"And he was still of the idea Lily would change her mind back then," Mary said, nodding sagely.

Lily frowned a little. "You say that like he's settling. Don't be cruel." Mary laughed, pinching Lily's arm until she was giggling and crawling away.

"That's not what I meant at all! Just that he fancied you at the time. I wouldn't call it settling, anyhow. That's like saying a poor man settles for caviar," Mary said.

"Am I the poor man or the caviar?" James asked, voice very close. You twisted to find he'd stationed himself behind you without being heard, movements covered by the general hubbub of the room. "I best be the caviar, or I'm going to be very upset." He said this as he pushed his hand across your shoulder until his palm was cupping your neck. He leaned down and kissed you quickly on the mouth, a chaste peck. "Hello, sweetheart."

You said hello back, word so quiet it got lost on the way from your mouth. He smiled at you very sweetly and then turned his attention to the ladies. "Evening, girls."

"Yeah, hi, loverboy," Lily said, squinting at him.

"Evans, always so cold. Mary, you look ravishing! Orange is your colour." It really was. Mary pressed a hand to her chest in mock swooning, leaning back so her braids pressed into Lily's shoulder.

"Potter, keep the flirting for your missus."

"Right you are, Marl." James turned his eyes to you. You imagined his expression wavering, the mark of adoration in his eyes. "You look lovely," he said, uncharacteristically quiet, and then, "good enough to eat. Mind if I try?"

"You admit, I'm the caviar?"

He grinned. "No, I don't."

"Don't like that," Dorcas complained.

"Yeah, I don't remember signing up for the tooth-rotting stuff," Lily agreed.

"Tooth-rotting! I was thinking sickening," Sirius said, grabbing James' shoulder in a manly clasp.

"Don't get too jealous, I've saved some for you." James maneuvered into Sirius' space until he was close enough to kiss him. Sirius called his bluff and stayed very still until James backed off. "You're no fun, Black."

"Don't want to catch whatever it is you've got. No offense," he said, nodding to you.

James remembered himself and smiled at you easily. "Whatever it is," he said warmly, "she's got it bad."

Half the girls cried out in disgust while the others cooed. Sirius rolled his eyes and muttered something about finding someone less insufferable to drink with.

"Didn't want to drink with that plonker anyways," James said, his hand finding a home at the nape of your neck, squeezing with his fingertips. You were puzzled at his behaviour and shuddered, pulling away to analyse his expression. He wasn't looking at you, instead his eyes were on the TV. "I hate this song."

"You hate this song?" you asked.

"What, s'hard to believe?"

"What kind of music do you like, James, besides top of the pops?"

"Stuff too mature for ears like yours, baby, don't worry yourself with it."

You huffed. "Prick."

"And proud. Want a drink?"

You could feel the warmth of the jelly shot still, and banked on getting in another. The best part about drinking was the taste becoming easier to manage the more you drank. "I want something fruity, please."

"Your wish is my command, sweet thing."

“You know what else my little birdie told me?” Marlene asked as soon as he’d gone.

“Your little birdie being Sirius Black, of course?”

“Quite right.”

“Go about it, then,” Emma prompted.

“You’ve been shagging Pots in alleyways and pub bathrooms.”

That had actually been the fun part of your deception. James had taken Remus and Sirius’ smoke break as an opportunity to plan ahead. “Right, when they come back, I’m going to look at you all subtle - as in, not subtle at all - and go to the bathroom and you can bat your dainty lashes at them both and make some excuse about needing some air, and then we’re going to fuck in the bathroom.”

You’d looked at him in total shock.

He’d lasted a further five seconds before breaking. “I’m messing with you, darling girl,” he pulled a pack of exploding snap cards from his pocket, “we’ll shoot the breeze for half an hour.”

“Half hour? They’ll definitely know we’re lying,” you’d said, laughing at your own joke as he’d pouted at you.

“Only a bit,” you admitted, ears warming. Marlene tilted her head back.

“I wouldn’t have thought it of you,” Dorcas said.

“Thought what?” you asked.

“Well. That you’d fancy James, and that you’d fancy him enough to shag in the leaky cauldron. Sirius is right, you might actually have something,” she joked, grinning. “Just saying - must be a pretty good fuck to risk dragon pox.”

“Sanitation spells are quick and easy,” James said pointedly, pressing a cold can of cider into your hands, sitting on the arm of the chair you were in with a flourish of his smart jacket. He pulled your shoulder against his thigh, hand on your other side. “But you’re right, Dor. I’m a good fuck. The missus will attest.”

"The missus doesn’t kiss and tell,” you muttered, flushing. You opened your can of cider and took a drink to avoid meeting the eyes of your teasing friends.

The night drifted on. James played a diligent boyfriend and stuck by your side even when the boys left to play cocktail waitress in the kitchen. This was, perhaps, his best move. Each of your friends seemed shocked and (to your pleasure) a little awed at his watchdog position. He only left to get more drinks and was back quicker than he had to, always returning to press you into his leg, hand firm on your shoulder. As the night progressed his hand rose, drifting slowly like the tide – up and down and up again.

His fingers in your hair had you biting back a shiver. You looked out of the corner of your eye to find his arm, muscled from the quidditch season, straining against his smart button down shirt. From under your lashes you could see he wasn't looking at you, his eyes somewhere across the room, distracted by boyish laughter.

You pushed into his side as a show of affection and whispered, "You don't have to stay here all night."

You heard the conversation around you hiccup. Your friends were listening and pretending not to be. He leaned down to talk closer to your ear.

"The point in being your boyfriend is spending time with you."

"It's been an hour. Go – stretch your legs, embarrass Remus."

He weighed his options and then dotted a kiss on your temple. "Alright, pretty girl. I'll be back," he said.

You brought your hand to your temple as he walked away, dusting the pads of your fingers across his kiss.

“That’s awful,” Dorcas said.

You winced. “It is?”

“I mean — you can tell how much he likes you,” she corrected.

“Too much,” Marlene agreed.

“Have you ever known James Potter to shy away from a party?”

“Maybe he really likes you guys,” you deflected.

“He really likes you.”

Someone said something else. The conversation span. Somebody spoke about their latest fling, Marlene made enough jokes to put Sirius to shame. You ran your thumb across the embossed cider can, thinking.

“Well,” said one of the girls. “I just didn’t expect it from you.”

There was a small silence in which you didn’t realise she was talking to you.

“What?” you asked with a sheepish smile.

“A boyfriend.”

You bit your lip hard enough to taste blood.

“That’s funny,” you said, clearing your throat. “Someone said the same thing to me the other day.”

“I can see it clear as day. Maybe not James,” Lily said decidedly, “but definitely someone.”

“Our flower,” Mary said, brushing your shoe with hers.

“I just - excuse me, would you guys? Too many drinks,” you said, pushing onto your wobbly feet. It was half a lie.

You closed yourself in Sirius’ small bathroom and sighed. Considering he was a boy, he kept the space clean. You put the toilet seat down to sit and felt a sudden rush of embarrassed tears. Were you truly so off putting? You were old enough and smart enough to know by now that when people said they couldn’t see you in a relationship, it meant there was something undesirable about you. Were you ugly? Stupid?

You’d never been jaw dropping like Marl or top of the class like Lily, but you weren’t bad. You were pretty, you told yourself, staring into the large mirror set on the wall in front of the bathroom sink. You looked nice tonight. Your hair was perfect and you were dressed in something new and flashy. Maybe they didn’t mean it in a bad way. It still hurt.

You watched a tear trace the soft hill of your cheek and run down to the curve of your chin, sniffling weakly. It was the kind of hurt that made you feel pathetic, made your heart hurt.

“Shortcake?” You flinched at his gentle voice on the other side of the door. “Are you in there?”

“Yeah,” you said, too loudly.

“Can I come in?”

You flicked the lock. James let himself in and was quick to lock the door behind him.

“I hope you’ve brought your a-game tonight, these cards are burning a hole in my pocket. Literally. Hey, are you alright?”

You swiped the heel of your hand across your face quickly. “I’m fine, James.”

“You don’t look fine,” he said. His hands hovered, like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

“Too much cider. It’s nothing.”

He nodded like he’d suddenly understood what you were saying. “Quite right. A lady such as yourself can’t be expected to keep down two cans of cider and a jelly shot. I’m surprised you’re still standing.”

“I’m sitting.”

“Semantics.”

You giggled. He looked at you as though he were watching something terrible - an avalanche of powder white snow, a great wall of saltwater coming to flatten everything in its path. Morbid trepidation.

“What?” you asked him.

“Don’t cry, you look so pretty tonight. Please.”

You rolled your eyes and turned away to face the shower, watching the still damp curtain drip run-off down the drain. The words sent fizzing straight through your sternum.

“Has someone said something?”

“Were you expecting them to?”

“No, of course not. Just…” he leaned his weight against the sink basin. “I’m your fake boyfriend but I’m your real friend. I know what it takes for something to upset you.”

“Can people see something I can’t, James?” you asked quietly, pinching the material of your shirt distractedly.

“I’m betting I see a lot more than you do.”

“Is it bad?”

“Are you joking?” He laughed, awkward but earnest.

“No, I’m not joking.” He didn’t know what to say and neither did you. You sniffed very quickly and patted under your eyes carefully. “Doesn’t matter. What did you say about cards?”

James grinned, pulling the offending items from his trouser pocket.

“I’m gonna wipe the floor with you, doll.”

“Though I’m suspicious of how you found out where she works, I’m more curious about your plan.”

“My plan?” James asked, a pair of sunglasses on, his own glasses in hand. The label hung off and rested on his sun-warmed cheek.

“How you plan on explaining to Finningley why you, a fan of all sport wizard, are doing in a muggle JD’s.” You paused as he slid a pair of matching sunglasses over your nose.

He grinned brilliantly, the sunglasses doing nothing to dull his exuberant shine.

“Not I, shortcake, we. What are we doing here?”

“That’s more suspicious.”

He led you down an aisle of trainers, boxes piled so high you couldn’t see the tops without craning your neck. “We don’t need to talk to her. Truth be told, I’d rather not. She just needs to see us together.”

“She saw us at Sirius’.”

James poked at a pair of shoes with mild interest.

He looked awful today. Well-dressed, brown skin kissed by the sun over and over. His dark, thick hair was a devilish mess as usual, curls falling this way and that. The sunglasses hid away his melting brown eyes, resting on his handsome hawk-shaped nose. He was clean shaven and smelling of his usual cologne, which in itself was enough to haunt your dreams. Sandalwood unfurling into a deeply woody smell, like a pure, burning flame. You held back the want to press your face into his neckline, to stand in his arms and soak up all his sunshine heat.

Perhaps awful was the wrong word. Either way, it was awful for you.

You turned from him, eyes searching for Finningley.

“In the market for anything?” James asked.

You turned around to find him holding a small football, meant for kids. He sorted through neon coloured footballs and then moved on to expensive branded socks, to rugby jerseys, to windbreakers. The whole shop smelled of sports equipment, slightly plastic. He came across a shockingly ugly pair of football studs, bright orange and fluorescent yellow, raising his eyebrows. “I’d do well in playoffs wearing these. Very distracting.”

“They’d laugh you off the pitch.”

“An unkind sort, quidditch players,” he agreed.

“You’re a quidditch player.”

“And I’m horrid.”

“I concur.”

James grinned something wretched. “You like ‘em mean?”

You were much too fragile to play this game with him. You imagined a version of you that said yes, that goaded him, that kissed him to kiss him and not to convince others you were kissable. That version of you, that brave version, would step on the toes of his shoes and put your hand on his lean chest and say all the right things, set your mouth on his mouth and kiss him like you meant it.

This version of you faltered noticeably.

James frowned and set down the ugly shoes.

He looked like he might say something heartfelt or at least something probing. Conveniently, your reason for being there appeared. You threw open the curtains on your stage play, idling into James’ space like you loved him. You smiled coyly and looked up at him from under your lashes.

“You tell me,” you said, hoping she could hear.

James looked startled. You pressed your hand to his neck. He covered it with his own.

You eased the sunglasses from his face and tucked them into his shirt, leaning up on your tip-toes to speak in his ear. He stilled.

“She’s behind you,” you whispered.

“She’s - oh. Oh.” The undertone of his lovely smile turned from earnest to guarded but he gave it as good as he got it, pushing your sunglasses up into your hair. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he said under his breath.

You braced yourself for his mouth, a polite peck, eyes drifting closed as he came close. Then, a passion — a roughness. James was kissing you hard enough to feel your lips press against your teeth. You froze. He pulled back, nipped your lip, said, “Play along.”

You were trying, only it was difficult to suddenly be kissed so deeply by someone. It was a wish fulfilment at best and a ruination at worst. James Potter was really, truly snogging you, and you wanted it bad. He tasted of spearmint.

He pulled away. You couldn’t help it, you chased him. He appeased you with a last peck and a laugh you’d never heard before and said, “Don’t overdo it, shortcake. We’re still classy.”

You nodded, taking your tingling bottom lip between your teeth. The cheesy novels always got that part right: fireworks. He readjusted your sunglasses back over your eyes and put his own back on and you both refused to turn your head’s in Georgia’s direction. When you looked out of the corner of your eye she was looking at you both with a broom loosely on her hand. When it hit the ground James laughed and covered his mouth. You both stood there desperately constraining contagious giggling.

Your final appearance as a couple began on the morning of Alice soon-to-be Longbottom’s wedding. The dress code was simple — as decadent as you please but don’t get cheesy with it. The bridesmaids wore gorgeous bronze silk slip dresses with bouquets of red roses, the groomsmen each with a rose tucked into their pockets.

You’d thought that a black dress might steer people’s attention from you completely and had bought the first one you found that flattered, ending mid-thigh. The fabric at your breasts was stiff, almost an invisible corset, and the straps were settled over each armpit.

The wedding was held on the Longbottom’s four acre property, green green grass topped by long, hand-carved wooden benches set on either side of a white silk aisle adorned by red petals. You and James stood at the top of it and set about making your judgements.

“It’s lovely,” you said.

He looked dreadfully handsome, the dark tendrils of his curls immaculate above his sharp eyes. He dipped down his head to you and you thought maybe he might kiss you. “It’s very dramatic,” he said.

How ironic, you thought. You look like a perfume model and you think everyone else has gone overboard.

“What’s that look?” he asked.

“What look?”

“I know you better than you think,” he said instead, staring at you. You marvelled at his ability to melt you, propping yourself up with a hand on one of the benches. Sirius was causing a palava at the registration table, the sound of Remus’ tired frustration reaching your ears. You hoped their hubbub might distract James long enough to save you, but no such luck. He waited patiently for your answer.

“I — you look very handsome today,” you admitted, feeling hot all over.

Perhaps he didn’t know you so well, as his spine straightened and his hand came up to tug against the collar of his shirt before he tucked it into his pocket with bravado. “Of course I do. I’m a handsome guy.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, embarrassingly earnest, “you are.”

He cleared his throat. The usher was trying madly to get people into their seats, begging ‘Bride or Groom?” to anyone who would listen. This was a difficult question, as most attendees where here for both. You eventually settled on the groom’s side with James, bare thigh pressed into his muscled one.

You could see the shape of his legs through his trousers and then looked away, blushing as you realised your own ogling. He didn’t notice. Well, fair do’s, you thought to yourself, he’s gotten an eyeful of my legs already.

You shivered. A small draft moved through the grounds and wafted the smell of rose water into every crevice. The cardigan you’d worn was similarly black, stopping just below your ribs and tied by two small, soft pieces of fabric at the front. You liked it because it didn’t fully cover the dress, though you were regretting it now.

A general hush had fallen over the crowd in anticipation. James pressed his knee to your knee and leaned over to talk to you without looking at you. “Are you cold?”

“A little.”

He brought both your legs into his and covered the outermost with a big hand, roving stripes over your naked flesh. “Bit frigid for an outdoor wedding,” he said, grinning, his pearly teeth peeking out through his parted lips.

You agreed weakly. You could hardly think. Your skin buzzed under his touch.

The music began. Bridesmaids and groomsmen drifted down the aisle looking bright and excessively happy. Lily, in her lovely brown slip, floated down the white silk in her strappy sandals looking like an angel, hair curled and glossy behind her. You knew you shouldn’t, knew it was ridiculous, but you looked to your left. James looked completely normal, no lovesickness, no outward yearning. His hand didn’t pause on your leg for a moment.

“Warmer?” he murmured.

You were burning.

Alice finally came down the aisle in her knee-length gown, all shiny fresh with love and elation on her face. You’d never seen such a ridiculously happy pair of lovers, laughing all through their vows and kissing passionately enough that the pews began laughing too. James’ hand tightened over your leg when the crowd cheered. He and Sirius began whooping loudly as to break your eardrums and, you figured, the sound barrier. Frank bowed to them both with a movement like a rolling bow.

People began rising from their seats to the reception tent.

“What did you think?” James asked as you stood. He remained seated. It was strange to be taller.

“About what?” you asked.

He held his hands out. You accepted hesitantly, felt the broom-wrought callouses on his otherwise soft hands slide against your palms as he spread his fingers over your pulse point, securing them around your wrists. You did the same. You didn’t look unlike Alice and Frank had, index fingers sliding under his forearms.

He gently pulled you forward to be standing between his open legs. “About the ceremony?”

You relaxed. “I liked it.“ You hesitated to say more.

“What?” he asked conspiringly, seemingly excited by your opinion.

“I can’t say it, it’s mean.”

“Please say it,” he begged. He moved one hand so his fingers were wrapped around the fleshy hill of your thumb. “Please, shortcake, I love to gossip.”

“It’s not gossip!” you said, looking down at where his fingers held your thumb. He pulled you closer still, so close your knees touched the bench.

“It’s the flowers, right? It’s suffocating,” he murmured. You blew a relieved breath out the side of your mouth.

“A bit,” you agreed, giggling, hands tensing around his.

“Like a first year’s hair-softener.”

You laughed more and then looked over your shoulder in paranoia.

“James, shush.”

“What? It’s hardly hearsay!”

“It’s not nice. They’ve had such a perfect day so far and we’re taking the piss.” Even as you said it, you didn’t feel guilty. Your pulse was pressed to his palms, his hands drifting over your skin as you talked and laughed. Half the attendees had moved to the gazebo and yet neither of you noticed.

He’d said something terrible that had you cringing down, stomach aching. When you looked up he was giving you his beatific smile, the sun shining down on you both just right and you felt pinned by it.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you said, smiling distractedly, looking down at his wrist. You curled your fingers inward and scratched the underside of his arm gently, feeling a little put out. After today, this would be over. You’d miss the stolen moments in bathrooms and hallways, would miss being allowed in his space like this — unapologetic, unflinching. James moved one hand up your arm, over your cardigan sleeve, to squeeze the crease of your arm.

“You…” he started shaking his head. “You make me so mad sometimes.”

“Mad?” you asked, worried.

“Furious.”

You didn’t know what to say. You tried to pull your arms away and he held on tight.

“You get this look on your face,” he said. He was smiling as he spoke, the strained kind, like he didn’t know how to say what he wanted to. “Like you realise you’re enjoying yourself and have to stop. Like you’re not allowed.”

You looked down at his sleeves, his cufflinks.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked you, suddenly, his voice loud in your ears.

“Yes,” you said timidly.

He let go of one arm to grip your shoulder, a comforting squeezing motion that made you sway. “Yeah?”

“I always have a good time with you, Jamie.”

He gave you a very long look. At first you didn’t recognise it on his face, it was so unlike him. No walls, no guarded secrets, a boy stripping back his bravado.

James let go of your elbow to wrap his arm around your shoulder blade, guiding you down to sit on his leg. You stopped breathing, pulse roaring in your ears whilst you tried to settle over his thigh without squirming. The hand wrapped around your wrist loosed go of your hands. They fell into your lap. His knuckles brushed against the tops of your covered thigh.

You had to wrap your arm around his neck to stop from falling backwards, chest against his chest, soft dark curls crushed under your hold. He smelled as intoxicating as always, sandalwood and something like smoke.

Live music had begun playing in the tent. Guests were clapping and cheering, laughter floating on the rose water breeze. The sun had begun to descend in the sky.

He let his hand rest on your hip, the other on your bare knee. All you could think of was his hands.

“I didn’t tell you,” he said, words like spun silver from his lips, “how beautiful you look today. Forgive me.”

You dropped your hand. “So tell me,” you said, as bravely as you could.

His hand inched up your knee, spread wide over your thigh. “You’re beautiful.” He faced you head on.

This part was all on you, you realised. You had to be the brave one — he’d made it so it was your decision, had let you be the taller one. You had to be the one to lean down. You had to be the one to mean it.

You inched closer to him, little bit little. You’d never been brave all at once like him. Best he knew it from the start.

“James,” you said, words soft. His smile was gentle. You mirrored his expression unthinkingly. “James.”

You had no grand confession for him. You wouldn’t tell him you loved him, but the idea that you could know him, that he could know you, and that the both of you could make something pretty of it. Well, you’d be brave for it.

You moved down another inch.

“Ask me,” he murmured, your lips so close and not close enough, noses a whisper apart. “I’ll say yes.” What he’d said when you asked him to pretend to be your boyfriend. Your heart would burst through your chest any second now.

“I know,” you said, repeating your own words, a world apart. “I think that’s why I’m afraid to ask.” He exhaled through his nose in a laugh.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked. His exhale graced your lips. Nothing, you wanted to say. Everything. “I already told you, I don’t do anything by halves.”

You shivered, shifted on his leg to be taller still. “Why’s it up to me?”

His eyes darted down to your lips. He bit his own, inhaled so sharply you felt his chest move under your hand. The sun set, poured light all over him like a blessed being dripping nectar. His hand came up to touch your face and was soaked in colour. The music lulled, the laughing grew louder.

He ran the back of his hand down your cheek. “Kiss me?” he asked you.

You set your palm over his cheek and closed your eyes. You leaned in. This time, when you kissed him, nobody was watching.

omg first james fic kinda nervous

my masterlist

tag club :3

marauders tag list @marimorena06 @glimmering-darling-dolly @siriuslystfu @thatblackravenclaw @thatonecomfyjumper @lupinlust @touchdeprivedwh0re @vi0letblu3s @mooncalvin @gaysnowrose @thatonecomfyjumper @set-myself-on-fire @decafcoffew

3K notes · View notes