Jily oneshots

Thank the Lucky Stars and Tampons

by Celestia0909

Tampons.

James Potter was standing in front of a wall of tampons, and he didn't have a clue which one to pick. The little boxes were all in different shades of turquoise, purple, and pink and decorated with stupid things like butterflies, or flowers, or, god forbid, glitter. As if women weren't insulted enough by stupid things like the pink tax - something he'd read about on the BBC website - they also had to deal with this shite; buying boxes of tampons that looked like a fucking unicorn had thrown up on them.

But musings aside, James Potter was still standing in front of a wall of tampons and he didn't have a clue which one to pick. And he sure as hell wasn't going to pick one based solely off the packaging.

He squinted at the rows and rows of tampons and frowned at the descriptions on the boxes. Some of them said maxi. Some were called regular tampons. Others were called minis. Some were apparently extra absorbent, and others were apparently great for the 'active' girl. And then others weren't even tampons at all.

His eyes scanned a small selection of menstrual cups, and his mind almost imploded as he tried to figure out exactly what a menstrual cup was, and how in the world they worked. He was tempted to pick the box up and have a look, but was interrupted by his phone violently vibrating in his field jacket.

It was from his best mate, Sirius: for the love of god, your cousin is mad, if you aren't here with her fucking tampons in TWENTY MINUTES, i'll throw a wad of her gross bloody uterine walls at your face when you come in

James didn't know if he should feel amused or afraid, but he decided on annoyance as he shoved his phone back into his pocket and glared mutinously at the wall of pink and purple tampon boxes that seemingly taunted him with their butterfly and floral cheeriness. He decided right then and there that he hated the colour pink. He absolutely despised it. The colour pink could go fuck themselves, and so could tampons quite frankly.

How the fuck was he supposed to know that tampons were different sizes? And how was he supposed to know that there was more than two brands of them? He was a bloke, he didn't need to worry about this stuff; and it wasn't exactly like there was anyone could turn to for help. Well, except for the blasted woman who asked for them in the first place, but he absolutely refused to admit defeat. On principle. But maybe, just maybe, it had also been a mistake to offer to buy tampons for his cousin. Maybe.

There was many a thing that didn't need to be shared between cousins, and tampon preferences, or sizes, or whatever was one. He had never regretted letting her crash with him and Sirius for a few weeks until now.

His phone buzzed again in his pocket and James swore under his breath as he looked desperately at the shelves of tampons. He hadn't thought it would take him this long to grab tampons, he thought it'd only take five minutes. But this aisle was a labyrinth of pink and purple, and he seriously doubted he'd be escaping anytime soon. At least without admitting defeat to his cousin Georgie.

With a huff, he swiped the first thing he reached and shrugged, before turning away, intending on making a beeline for the self-serve checkouts.

Only, his path was obstructed, and he walked hip first onto an oncoming shopping trolley.

"Oh fuck, I'm sorry!" a panicked voice said as a pale woman with dark auburn hair backed the shopping trolley that had accosted him up. "Are you alright?"

James reached up ruffled his hair. He wasn't going to lie, his hip was probably going to be bruised, and he had been biting his tongue when she crashed into him. The shopping trolley hadn't exactly bumped into him lightly, and he suspected that there'd be a bruise forming on his hip bone tomorrow.