April 26th for @jilymicrofics with the prompt other
“I dunno why you accepted to be on this mission with me.”
She doesn’t know if the words were intended from her, the whisper barely audible over the howling of the wind outside, but they’re alone, sharing a bed in the only room available in the old inn tucked in the Scottish countryside, so Lily turns towards him. His eyes are closed, but he’s frowning, face clouded and she doesn’t know why she feels compelled to reassure him.
“I trust you.” He opens his eyes swiftly at her words, as if he needs to see her face, to check she isn’t lying.
“You do?”
She nods, hand tucked under her cheek. “What happened between us is in the past, I know you’ll always have my back.”
“Of course I will.”
“And so will I.” She adds, watching his expression clear and it’s too much now, too reminiscent of nights like this, spent looking into each other’s eyes, but things are different then. She would have held him then, showed him with more than her words that she will always be there for him. She can’t now, everything’s changed and she turns around, escaping his eyes.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Compared to falling in love, war was easy. They both were intricate dances, both fueled by continuous laboring efforts and a multitude of emotions. Sometimes he would try to imagine if it were different, if he could uncoil the two in his memory. Was it ever possible to have one without the other? If it meant staying with her, James would keep the war going forever, suffer everyday in an endless cycle because despite it all, she was worth it.
This ficlet was originally posted in my jilytober2024 series but upon reflection I really wanted it to have its own space.
The longest James and Lily story I've written to date! Inspired by one of the prompts from the December Jily Calender, and also from the @jilymicrofics prompt word galaxy.
This is definitely a @jilymicro-oops!
Startlight
Summary: Under the cover of stars, Lily and James go out in search of an elusive flower. The northern lights make Lily contemplate how plans change.
Trying out the word come, you're welcome @practicecourts LOL! We'll see how it sits with me! So far, no problems 🤣
Lay All Your Love On Me | Rating: M
Chapter Nineteen | Beginning
Prompt: satisfy
Summary: The first time Lily kisses James, he doesn’t even know.
“I’m so angry with you.” He towers over her, squashing her between his body and the wall and suddenly she doesn’t care for luxuries like lung function and personal space; she wants him to press against her until she turns to ash – burnt and dusty from the blazing heat of his body.
“Bite me, Potter.” He's irate, but she’s not sorry. Not one bit.
She doesn’t actually expect him to close the distance between them and sink his teeth into her lower lip as he slams her — his hand cups the back of her head — into the rickety wall, pressing flush against her until she can feel him – hard, throbbing, desperate – between her legs.
“So fucking furious.” Bruising kisses punctuate his fierce words. She responds by tugging him harshly; nips at his lip until he opens his mouth just enough that she can steal his tongue between her lips and gently suck until she pulls a deep moan from his throat.
His arousal prods her, as unrelenting as his lips that continue their mission to cover every inch of her.
Suddenly he’s inside her — knickers torn and discarded on the old oak floor — driving his hips hard enough there’s sure to be imprints on her back to compliment the bruises that will colour her hips. The low curse that falls from his lips sends Lily spinning, colours whizzing before her eyes before she’s grounded by his smug voice inches from her ear.
“You’re going to come.”
She attempts to glare at him — it’s somewhat ruined when her eyes roll back in her head as his deft fingers find her nipples — and has to wait out the whine that leaves her mouth before she can properly respond with a scoff and “Think you can make me, Potter?”
James groans and presses his forehead against hers, breath warm on her face. Two years is enough time for him to perfect his dance – to know her body as well as he knows his own. She knows it. He knows it. But they wouldn’t be Lily and James if she didn’t push when he pulled – to be contrary, just for fun .
His cock twitches inside her — he’s close too — and he growls softly into her ear, fingers digging into her breasts as he twists the sensitive buds between his fingers. It’s sharp and almost painful. She gives him a retaliatory squeeze.
But he wins when his fingers skim her clit — trailing the juices of her arousal from where they’re joined — and her thighs begin to tremble and squeeze his hips. James thrusts hard and fast, hands grasping the milky flesh of her arse, grinding into her dripping cunt hard enough Lily briefly wonders if the wall against her back will hold.
The thought is fleeting; hot white pleasure unfurls low in her belly and moves up to her chest. She arches her back to release the tension and lets out a slow moan. "That's it, baby. Let go." Another wave of pleasure washes over her, leaving her shaking and weak; completely at mercy to the sweet muttering coming from his lips before he skinks completely into her, the hot spurts of his own pleasure filling her as a satisfied groan sounds deep in his throat.
She’ll have to explain herself, but for now, she’ll just float in the bliss.
no, i could never give you peace | Read on Ao3 | Playlist
But the rain is always gonna come if you’re standing with me
Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?
James blinks. “Are you breaking up with me, Evans?” he jokes softly, resting his hand on hers. It’s a joke, but her body tenses and it immediately puts him on edge. The silence that follows is excruciating.
“I’m not doing anything.” Her nails begin to tap on the mug again—a nervous habit that James spots immediately. “I just think we should have a conversation.”
I haven't written a microfic in a while, but I had an idea.... 👀 for @jilymicrofics with the prompt: fresh
Secret and lies
“Lily-”
“I’m fine.” She says, taking her time placing the coat on the couch. She smooths the wrinkles, proud to hear her voice not wavering, her tone detached enough that, if she doesn’t turn around, her friend might believe her.
“You’re not fine.”
“Why not, Mary?” The words come out strangled this time and Lily swallows. Don’t cry, don’t cry.
“Because you were supposed to get married yesterday and James didn’t show up.”
She laughs at that, at the absurdity of the situation, at the pain that hits her again, that takes the air from her lungs, and she can’t stop the tears this time. She raises her fingers to wipe at her cheeks, hating herself for her weakness, but the wound is still too fresh to bring herself under control.
James. His loud laugh, his strong arms that used to hold her so tight, that made her feels so safe, so loved, so at peace. Those memories are painful now that she has to face the truth, to accept that he doesn’t love her, that he probably never did or that he changed his mind, regretted asking her to marry him and didn’t even have the guts to face her.
A hand brushes her shoulder and Lily flinches. “Look, you don’t have to come today.”
“Why not?” She asks, turning around, her eyes burning. “I’m a member of the Order as much as he is.”
“I know, but no one would judge you if you needed-”
“I don’t.” She cuts her off. “If he doesn’t want to see me, he can stay at home.”
Mary doesn’t seem to have an answer for that and they stand there, awkwardly, until Lily can’t take it anymore and moves towards the kitchen. It feels weird to be back here, in the apartment she used to share with her friend, when she had all those projects with him, a life already planned. But it’s pointless to hold onto dreams. If he forgot about her so easily she will learn to do the same.
***
The pity is the worst part. She can handle the surprise, she can even take pride in it. It strokes her ego to know that they didn’t expect her to come, but she won’t let them feel sorry for her.
They sit down and she can’t help it, she looks across the room, unsure of what to feel when she spots the empty chair next to Sirius. She tries not to look at the other empty chair, the one that used to belong to her, but fails. Her hands start shaking and she’s about to get up because she can’t do this when she hears the door in the back swing open and freezes in her seat.
She knows it’s him. She memorized the sound of his steps long ago. She has loved that sound, cherished it, just as she’s loved him. She hears him faltering and that feels good, but then he moves forward, drags the chair back and now she knows he’s sitting there.
Staring ahead doesn’t help. She’s confused, angry, so much that she can’t make sense of Moody’s words and that only angers her more because her life is on the line and she can’t even pay attention, but then a thought overtakes her and she can’t push it back, can’t fight it, can’t avoid it. I’m not a coward. She knows it’s true. She’s never backed down from a challenge, not with Petunia, not with Severus, not with the people who look down on her for being Muggleborn. She closes her eyes for a moment and then, when she knows she won’t crumble, she looks up. He’s focused on Moody and she observes him, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, the way he’s pressing his lips together, but then he suddenly turns, as if he felt her eyes on him. There’s anguish there, grief, but she looks away.
She won’t be fooled this time, not by James Potter.
For @jilymicrofics with the prompt: deserve
I wrote a part 2? Companion piece? Idk. Either way, here’s a small scene from James’ POV following the mess that is this microfic: Secret and Lies.
Absence is a house so vast that inside you will pass through its walls and hang pictures on the air.
James can’t place the quote, can’t remember who wrote it, but the memory of Lily reading it to him is as clear as day. She has her feet in his lap and a wrinkle between her brows as she mulls over it. He knows she was thinking of her parents that day and his heart aches for her. She couldn’t imagine that one day it would apply to him too.
He gets up suddenly as if moving could keep him from thinking, from making his mind indulge on Lily, but her face appears behind his closed lids anyway, reminding him of what he did to her, of his betrayal. She looks like the last time he saw her, at the Order meeting and Merlin – her bravery, her strength, he loves her so much. No one thought she would show up, but he wasn’t surprised. She has always been a force to be reckoned with, the fiercest witch he has ever met, and that’s why he knows he can never tell her the truth. She would fight him over this, he’s sure of it, and he can’t allow it, not this time. He opens the liquor cabinet, cursing as the empty bottles rattle together.
“What the fuck are you doing, James?”
He turns around, dragging himself up. “Nothing.”
“It’s ten in the morning.” He shrugs, evading Sirius’ stare, but his friend steps forward, vanishing the bottles with a flicker of his wand. “We’ve known each other for far too long, you can’t lie to me now.”
“I told you. I wasn’t ready to get married.”
“Bullshit.” His eyes flash with annoyance and steps away, away from Sirius, his heart racing painfully. “What did Dumbledore tell you?”
“Nothing.”
“Some bullshit about putting a target on her back? It’s too late now anyway, Prongs!”
“SHUT UP!”
They stare at each other, James clenching the wand in his fist, but Sirius seems unfazed. “He isn’t always right, you know?” He finally says and James hates how his voice softens, how he pities him.
“This time he is.” He whispers. “And Lily deserves a good life.”
“I think she deserves the truth.”
James can’t speak for a moment and tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. “There’s no happy ending here, Sirius. If I stay with her I – I’ll get her killed, there’s no escaping it.”
I am prepared for the hate 😈 I'd say come congratulate me on reaching 200 kudos for this fic, but I have a feeling something else will be on your mind by the end of this chapter 🙃
Lay All Your Love On Me | Rating: M
Chapter Twenty | Beginning
Prompt: glare
Summary: The first time Lily kisses James, he doesn’t even know.
The amber liquid in his glass swirls in a vortex as James stares – content to let his eyes linger – at the dark-haired witch as she runs a seductive hand down her target’s chest. She’s good; he barely catches the small tilt of her hand – and the palmed vial of clear liquid – that seals the wizard's fate.
It’s only a few minutes before she’s guiding the wizard to the back rooms the bar rents by the hour. He winds through the crowd as quickly as he can, only to be stopped by the slam of metal on wood as the clerk throws his flask down to squint at James. His skin is a peeling sallow, his eyes a pale lifeless blue.
“Room,” James says shortly, clunking down a few sickles.
“Where’s your whore?” Yellow teeth glint in the candlelight as cracked lips stretch into a ghoulish grin.
“Am I paying for an inquisition or a room?” James snaps, letting the tip of his wand slide from its holster.
“Room 4.” It’s the unfriendliest customer service voice James has ever heard in his life, but he snatches the key, swiftly rounding the corner towards his room.
The hair on the back of his neck stands, but he’s not quick enough on the draw; the tip of a wand presses sharply into his ribs.
“Wand.” A tattooed hand extends, sharp purple nails glittering in the moonlight. The wand digs further into the crease between his ribs at his scoff. “Now.”
“You don’t want to do that, I –”
“Don’t tell me what I want, Potter.”
He swivels to face her, the tip of her weapon jabbing unpleasantly into the softer part of his stomach. He ignores it. “You know who I am?” It’s not as silly of a question as it sounds; James is four transfigurations and two charms into a disguise.
“Guess you’re not as good as you think you are.” She shrugs carelessly. “Perhaps your wandwork needs some work.” Her blue eyes dip down past his waist suggestively.
“My wandwork is just fine,” James bites out, glaring at her.
“What do you want? Why are you here, following me?” James presses his lips together; he’s certainly not supposed to be here. “You’re the one holding me at wand point,” he deflects. “What do you want?”
He’s prepared for the hard push of her wand this time; it doesn’t sink far as he flexes. Annoyance flickers across her face – eyes narrowed and lips downturned – before the wand suddenly vanishes – he breathes out – only to reappear under his jaw where he has no muscles to protect him from the sharp pain to his throat. “I came to see how hard I can make you before I fuck you, Potter.”
She says it plainly, like it’s inevitable , but that doesn’t stop the guilt that grows ugly inside his chest as his cock twitches where she can feel it – close as she is now – against her thigh. How can he want to be here ? How can a morning spent buried inside searing warmth – green eyes gentle and red hair tousled from sleep – not be enough?
It should be, but it’s not.
He’s already straining against his trousers when his mouth follows his cock in turning traitor.
