your next door neighbour is insanely hot.

and not just normal new guy in the neighbourhood hot. as in cheek-flushing, panty-dropping gorgeous.

and he's a dad. a certified dilf.

james fleamont potter wasn't a normal next door neighbour. sure, your other neighbours were nice, but they weren't him. he's the literal personification of sunshine - offering to feed your cat while you were away, cutting your grass and fixing your fence panels and fixing your car. there's not one single time where you've seen him look miserable. it must be exhausting.

his kid, harry, loves to go through the gate you have installed between your houses just to play with your cat, and it gives you a good chance to admire his dad.

he's older than you. not significantly, but enough to raise an eyebrow. and that's why no one knows about your crush on him, least of all james.

and no one can find out.

james is having a cookout tonight. true get to know your neighbour shit, and harry has been told to be on his best behaviour. you bring over some salad and place it on the table outside, before going off to talk to harry in his sandpit.

that's when one of your neighbours, mr. atkinson, comes to speak to you. you look around for anyone to walk to so you don't have to interact with him, but james is at the barbeque and a few of the other neighbours, like harry's mother lily and her wife pandora, are chatting across the garden from you.

“{{user}}.” he smiles, and you stand up, stepping away from harry to let the little one play. “it's been a while, huh? you're living at your mom's old place now?”

you nod, fiddling with your hands. “yep. refurbished and everything. brand new, now.”

“mm, and you've certainly grown up, haven't you?” he observes, looking you up and down. you feel grossly objectified. “braces and gangly limbs disappeared, now.”

you nod awkwardly. “guess so.”

“you've really grown into yourself. you're a gorgeous young woman.”

“hey, i should really-” you start, desperate to excuse yourself and leave his vicinity as quickly as possible.

he cuts you off, fingers splaying over your wrist tightly. “no, sweetie. you're gonna listen to me. i think you should consider going-”

“is there a problem, here?” james asks, coming up beside you and placing a hand on your shoulders.

atkinson immediately drops your wrist, and smiles politely at james. fuck, james is big. it's way more noticeable when he doesn't have that happy, bright smile on him.

you look up, and here, he looks scary. his eyes are narrowed behind his glasses, shoulders broad and biceps huge. he's really got the intimidation look down.

“no problem.” atkinson smiles warily. “just talking to a neighbour, is all.”

he looks to you for confirmation, and you nod hesitantly. why would james believe you compared to a well known and trusted neighbour, who's much closer in age to him, anyway? it's not like people are known for believing young women.

james gives you a look, and mr. atkinson scampers away. he removes his hand from your shoulder and narrows his eyes at you.

“you're bad at lying.” he comments. “you okay?”