Art Deco

you're in love;

pairing- policeman!james potter x baker!reader
warning(s)- fluff, james being an adorable idiot. (let me know if i should add more.)
a/n- i literally had so much fun writing this. 

james mouth is full of the rich chocolate muffin he stuffs into his mouth. it's buttery, soft and crunchy? it's a chocolate almond muffin he realizes as he takes another big bite. oh no, he doesn't like those. but somehow, he chews on. in his imagination, you're feeding him the muffin with your hands, a sweet shy smile on your face. he imagines then licking off the melted chocolate off your fingers, from the overdose of chocolate chips in your delicious muffins.

you're a great baker, he decides when he swallows the muffin. to be able to make the james fleamont potter eat almond muffins was tough work, for he doesn't like too much texture variation in his food. but somehow you manage to balance it out just right.

you're a great thief too, he decides. an oblivious one, though. perhaps the 'friendly' winks or the constant writing of his number on tissue papers or the nicknames did nothing more make you blush and laugh.

he loved your saccharine laughter. it reminded him of the muffins you baked. he loved the subtle blush on your cheeks. it reminded him of the jam cookies from your bakery which had been a hit during the valentine's week. he loved the crinkle of your skin beside your mouth and eyes when you smiled or laughed. it reminded him of the soft buttery croissants that you'd so beautifully crafted to bake them with the perfect texture and taste.

he watches the a butterfly flap it's wings, flutter in the sky. the sunshine reflects on the spots of it's beautiful wings just right. it feels him with a warm comfortingly fuzzy feeling soothing him. he loves it. it reminds him of the time he'd seen you smile for the first time, and felt his heart soar.

james is distracted from his thoughts when his walkie talkie beeps, grabbing his attention. he slides it out from his back pocket, brushing his muffin crumb covered fingers onto his pants. he holds it up to his ears, listening to the speaker.

'attention, officer james. smoke alarm detected in batter and crumbs. please take your team as quickly as possible.'

he doesn't listen further, running towards the bakery. it's probably unsafe, his brain says, but his heart beats otherwise, at the aspect of you stuck like a damsel in distress within a cloud of smoke and the ferocious flames of fires.

he opens the door of the bakery, entering in a rush, his shoes chafing over the polishes tiles as he rushes, runs and jumps into the kitchen. anything but a normal walk.

when he reaches the kitchen, he finds you bent over towards the microwave, smoke sizzling out the oven. his brain doesn't register the fact that there's no fire in sight, when he pulls you by your waist, steering you away from the smoking oven. you carry a burnt muffin tray in your hands, and hit the intruder's head with it.

it's hot and thus, it burns his forehead. he screams, letting go of your fighting body. he massages the burnt spot, and when the realization dawns upon you, you're quick to to run to the freezer and bring him ice.

you wrap it up in your apron, avoiding direct contact from the ice to his burn, and making him sit down on one of the chairs, you slowly place the ice. his fingers clench into his thigh, and he hisses at the contrast of feelings on his nerves.

'fuck, mr. potter, i'm so sorry,' you mutter sheepishly, slowly rubbing the ice on the burn, trying to soothe the burn. he doesn't say anything. and even though feel scared, you look at his face, searching for any signs of anger. oh why did you hit him! you just lost the hot regular who you had come to good terms with and who you had a crush on-

not a sign of anger to be found on his expression. all you saw was a dopey grin and red tinted cheeks underneath the dusk of his skin. oh.

'i-i'm sorry?' you said again, though it came out more of a question. he grins even wider, looking into your eyes. for a minute you think he's drunk, but he's a policeman on duty so...

'it's okay,' he whispers. 'heart-thief' remains silent as you stand in front of him, letting the ice soothe his burn.

for what the man seems so jolly for remains a mystery until a a few years later you're cuddled up to him watching a silly sitcom and laughing when he confesses out of the blue it was because you were so closer to him... and also because your breasts were directly in front of his hungry eyes.