alalison asked:

jily. 12. (:

apalapucian answered:


prompt 12 writer/editor AU  

By the time he’s reached her office, he’s already exhausted his mind trying to think of the things she might say. Already bummed out, too, and nervous, but he had it coming, didn’t he? His head’s still pounding, goddamnit, and his fingers feel sluggish as he knocks on the open door.  He feels stupid—he never knocked before. No wonder she looks weirded out when she looks up from her desk.

He shuffles to the seat across her and slumps down. Never again, he thinks, trying to ignore the hard, heavy whatever-the-fuck-it-is drumming angrily on the walls of his brain. The hangover is exceptionally grueling this time, but maybe it’s just the nerves. It’s so unfair, though. Sirius is back home snoring on the living room floor, the git, while James is here, probably for the last time, feeling (even looking) like hell.

“So,” Lily begins, leaning back on her seat and crossing her arms. “That story you sent me last night.”

“I’m really sorry,” he dives right in, staring at the floor.

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juvenile behaviour


They were not expecting wonders. When it came to the latest Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher (some wondered if Dumbledore had a stash of them in a cupboard), low expectations were advised. Knowing, as all everyone did, that the job was jinxed, students never made much effort to keep a teacher around, unless they particularly liked them, which was rare. Some had been actively driven out: though nothing had been proven, and no punishment served, rumour had it that James Potter and Sirius Black had been the reason Professor Chapman had left so suddenly in their third year. All that anyone could really hope for, particularly the older years, was a professor who would get them ably through their exams.

Professor Percival Phillips, when he arrived to take up the post at the beginning of the 1977 school year, was a revelation.

James disliked him immediately, which had everything to do with his ridiculous embroidered robes and hat and nothing to do with the way the girls started fanning themselves and pretending to swoon as soon as he stood up. Phillips acknowledged the fervent applause with a nod of his dark head and sat down gracefully, a little smile playing on his lips, as if he was used to this kind of reception.

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Anonymous asked:

Jock!James and Cheerleader!Lily

suzies-q answered:

"So how long will I be doing this for?" 

Lily turns from side to side, admiring her uniform from all angles. She could take or leave the pom-poms, honestly, but she has to admit that she does look nice. 

"Just until Laura’s leg is better," Ellie, the cheer captain (and her best friend) tells her brightly. "It was a pretty bad break, so maybe a few months." 

Lily whips around, privately enjoying the way her skirt swings as she does. “You know I can’t do it for that long. You said two games maximum.” 

"I know I did," Ellie begins, looking at her pleadingly. "But you’re so good. All the girls want you to stay on, they all love you.” 

Lily quickly turns away from Ellie’s pout, smoothing out the fabric of her uniform. “I just don’t have the time, you know that.” 

Ellie sighs. “I know. You’re too busy.” 

Lily nods her head. That’s no lie; she likes cheerleading well enough, but even if she loved it, she’s still too busy. If Ellie wasn’t her best friend and in desperate need of a reliable replacement for one of her cheerleaders, Lily wouldn’t even be here.

Lily is a gymnast, not a cheerleader, and that’s really why Ellie asked her to step in. She knows that Lily can do the routines. Cheerleading is okay, but she still prefers gymnastics. She definitely prefers to compete herself, rather than cheer on someone else. Although, she admits to herself as they begin their routine and the players make their entrance, there are a few members of that team worth cheering for. 

On the other side of the pitch, two boys are jogging to their positions. One wears glasses and pushes his hand through his black hair, glancing over towards the stands, where the cheerleaders are lined up along the side of the pitch. 

He feels his ears heat up, and his gaze lingers on the girls for a few moments too long, until a sharp voice calling his name jerks him awake.

"James!" Sirius barks. "What are you doing?"

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Cricket Bats and Fireflies


——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——-

Words: 19,250
Rating: M. Definitely M.
Summary: James and Lily, exhausted and forced on a 72 respite, retreat to Lily’s old stomping grounds—the farm, belong to family friends, where her parents used to take her camping. (Wartime Jily—some angst. Camping fun. Fluff, and shenanigans, and smut.)

——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——-

He might’ve been asleep, actually, when she asked where he thought they should go.

 “Somewhere happy.”

 “Here with you, James…it’s the best I’ve got.”

 “Somewhere comfortable, then.”


“Any patronus memories come to mind?”

She paused, and then: “How do you feel about camping?” 

“Camping? “Sounds brilliant.”

He kissed her nose, or tried to, but got her brow instead, and she sniggered at him.  “Can we go muggle camping?”

 “As in—no magic?” He wasn’t opposed, but after the doxies, sixth year, he’d learned that it was prudent to clarify terms before agreeing to any potential Mad Lily Plan.

 “No. It’s just that I’ve seen wizarding tents…hardly roughing it with an actual stove and sofa and loo.”

“I’m not sure I see the merit in roughing it.” He was being contrary for the sake of being contrary, to tease her, and they both knew it.

 “Being a pansy, Potter?” She tickled his ribs lightly, causing him to squirm.

He clamped down her hand with his own. “Insulting my manliness, Evans?”

“Oh, absolutely. Also: your sense of adventure, and your marauder honor.”

 “Low blows.”

“That’s how I operate,” she said, a full, cheeky grin on her face. It was, and he adored her for it. He kissed the corner of her mouth, just where her dimple was showing.

“It could be an adventure,” she prodded. He could tell she was more excited about the prospect than she was willing to let on. “I’ve got all the equipment—remember those lumpy boxes I made you lot rescue from the garage after—“

She dropped off, unwilling to finish her sentence, but she didn’t have to; it was settled for him. “Sounds fun. Fuck knows we could use an adventure.”



keep it sweet, keep it slow


AN: It wasn’t intentional, but um, this turned out to be sort of Eleanor and Park-ish. So I thought I should mention that this particular story style belongs to Rainbow Rowell, the presentation of it anyway, and the characters belong to JK Rowling. What I own are a really old laptop, TARDIS socks, and undying love for Harry Potter’s late parents. Written for Jily Week, prompt from Day 6: feelings. There are touches of the other prompts as well (like seasons and achievement and game), but it’s mostly feelings I think. Also it’s late! I know. Sorry. Lots of incoherent ramble and sickly sweet mush.

She’s avoiding him, and he hasn’t the slightest why.

He doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong. Or said anything, really.

Is it because of that thing the other week? On Hogsmeade weekend? He held her hand on the way back to the carriage station, but… she let him, didn’t she? He thinks she did. She smiled, you know? She never mentioned it again after that, but just not to make a big deal out of it, he reckoned. He hasn’t held her hand since, as much as he wanted to. But he’s started waiting for her in the Common Room for breakfast since then—without his mates, so it’s clear and all—and she’s been delighted to see him there every time. Seemed so, at least. And they’ve sat next to each other in classes. He thought it could be the start of something more… Is she starting to regret all of that? Why?

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what happens in hogsmeade


… won’t necessarily stay in Hogsmeade.
for jily week day 7: anything goes

James wasn’t staring.

Or, he was trying very hard not to stare, and he thought he was doing a reasonably good job, considering the circumstances. I mean, just look, he wanted to say to his friends, who had informed him several times that he was in fact staring. Just look at her. Leaning forwards in her armchair, she was gesturing animatedly as she spoke to her friends, who were laughing. Every time she moved her head, her hair caught the light, glinting russet and ruby: her proximity to the fireplace saw flecks of yellow flickering in her cat-like eyes. All in all, it made for a distracting sight, and James was having difficulty concentrating on … what was he doing?

“Prongs, you are being quite obvious,” he heard Peter say as if from a great distance, but he could not bring himself to look away from Lily until she finally moved out of the firelight, crouching down to rummage through her bag.

“Oh look, he’s back,” Sirius said when James returned his attention to his friends. He grinned sheepishly.

“If I could help it I would,” he said, picking up his quill.

“I’m not sure you’re trying very hard.”

James had to admit this was true.

“When it comes down to it, looking at her is much better than not looking at her,” he shrugged. “I’m not about to deny myself these simple pleasures in life.”

“If you asked her out you might get more than simple pleasures,” Sirius said, and Peter and Remus sniggered.

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James might be intelligent, but he doesn’t always say the right thing. Or do the right thing. And, sometimes, he just looks like an idiot.
Set in sixth year.

“McCormack passes to Baines – oh, that’s a nice Bludger from Bagman, Wasps take possession … Singh with the Quaffle – and Portree’s Keeper is half-asleep, this isn’t going to be a problem for Singh – it isn’t – HE SCORES!”

Startled into consciousness by the sudden rise in volume, James bolted upright in his chair, yelping, “I wasn’t asleep!”

There was silence, but for the commentator’s crackly voice from the wireless on the table, and, feeling foolish, he realised that he was quite alone in the common room.

He rubbed his neck, which was aching from having slumped at an awkward angle in the armchair, and pointed his wand at the radio to increase the volume. The Wasps-Portree match had been going on for hours now, and ordinarily he might have given it up as a bad job, but it was a European Cup qualifier and, besides, Remus’ doubt that he could stay awake all night if it were to last that long had been enough to make James plonk himself in the best armchair by the fire with the declaration that he could, and would, stay awake for the duration of the match. 

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