Prompt: A secret marriage while at school? Maybe they don’t tell anyone but just wear their rings around until someone notices, and then Minnie is the first to notice and starts calling Sirius “Mr Lupin” and that’s how everyone finds out? Idk I just thought this would be fluffy

question for lily : how did you know you liked james

James: you think I have a 'dumb' face?

Lily: yeah but I love that dumb face

(ask box is open - thank you anon, I apologize for the essay response but it is Lily)

How do you think James and Lily found out about each other's patronuses?

this question requires a 30 chapter longfic.

probably my favorite thing about Jily.

In my headcanons, Remus mentions casually about James' patronus and Lily pretends it doesn't mean anything

If you’re taking prompts

“You’re really warm.” and

“Come back to bed. Please” for jily pls??

Fretting over Lily Evans was nothing new for James, but this time might’ve put him to his early grave after all.

He touches her forehead discreetly, trying not to disturb her sleep. She went in and out of her slumber all night, giving him a scare half the time with her nonsensical mumblings. He doesn’t recall when exactly he fell asleep too, not long ago according to the rising sun, but that’s how he finds himself next to her now.

Blinking his eyes woozily, he gives himself permission for a moment of bliss before jumping into action, pretending they are lying side by side not because she is burning like a furnace, but like he always wakes up next to Lily, this hair tickling his shoulder not unusual.

He can only guess what prompted her to call him last night. A bitter part of him thinks it’s because she knew he would come running, no questions asked. It’s hard to ignore that part when that was exactly what he did, probably before he even hung up the phone. There is, of course, always the chance that it was the side effect of her running fever. One should not underestimate it, he learned that firsthand all through the night.

The pretense falls apart when he feels Lily’s skin, panic rising inside him all over again. He has spent the whole night trying to make sure her temperature didn’t pass 40 degrees, hand ready over his phone for the minute it did. It feels like it has risen again, her cheeks flaming bright to prove his insight right.

“Aren’t you gonna kiss my forehead?”

She startles him, with the question or her half open eyes smiling dozily at him, he doesn’t know.

“Why would I take advantage of the ill, Evans?”

Her smile gets softer, fonder. “That’s how my mom used to take my temperature.”

He’s never been able to say no to that smile.

She closes her eyes with the kiss, looking content and peaceful, not at all like the bedridden patient she is supposed to be. He lingers one second longer than necessary.

He has forgotten the purpose of the act until she looks at him expectantly, waiting for his verdict.

“You’re really warm.”

She doesn’t care for his furrowed brows or less than satisfactory explanation when she snuggles into him, purring, “Thank you, so are you.”

“That was not a compliment, Evans.” He tries to hide the fact his breath hitches when she burrows her face in his neck. “That means I am doing something very, very wrong. Are you sure you don’t want me to call anybody else?”

Her hold on him tightens even further if possible. She sounds like a petulant child when she whines her refusal. He can imagine, and feel, her pout.

He tries to untangle himself from her, but she looks so offended by his actions that he feels the need to explain himself. “I need to wet these rags again, and you need to eat some breakfast so you can take your antipyretics.”

She opens her mouth to say something, another refusal going by her displeased expression, but he jumps from the bed before she can tempt her more.

He goes to the bathroom first, thinking maybe some cool water would do him good too. She is already asleep by the time he comes back, hand reaching out to where he once laid on the bed. He places the damp clothes on her forehead with a grin, letting it take over his face while she is not able to see it. The pills he found when he rummaged through her medicine cabinet are put on her nightstand, waiting for his arrival with some food.

Preparing some eggs and toast helps him gather himself a little more, the habitual routine putting his brain on autopilot. The morning feels like something out of James’ dreams with Lily cuddling him in the bed and him making her breakfast, he finds it necessary to remind himself the true nature of the situation as he fills a glass of water for her.

She is awake when he enters the room, following his motions silently as he puts the plate on her side too. He is just about to sit on the chair by her bedside when she stops him with a hand on his arm.

“I promise I’ll eat something in a minute. Can you just… come back to bed? Please?”

His will already weakened since he woke up, he finds that it crumbles completely when he hears her voice so weak, tone so pleading. He lays down on his previous place without saying anything, her head finding his shoulder immediately.

A small hand traces patterns on his chest, nails tickling the heart underneath with every swoop. They could probably live in that relaxed bubble forever if the question nagging inside him just hadn’t popped out unexpectedly.

“Why did you call me yesterday, Lily?”

The finger drawing flowers, stars, and initials never stops its movement. “Because I had a high fever, and I didn’t want to go to the ER.”

“No. I mean, why did you call me?”

He holds his breath in anticipation of her answer, and she stills momentarily too before shaking out of her stupor. “I wanted to be with you.” Her voice sounds so small. “I always want to be with you, you know that.”

There is relief ballooning inside him with her words, mixed with something he dares not name. He hums softly as a response, neither denying nor confirming her assumption.

“We can stay in bed for one more minute, then I’m gonna make you eat that breakfast, Evans.”

“Two, because you just took advantage of a sick person’s honesty and I deserve it.”

“Deal.”

He’ll let her pretend like he won’t do anything she asks for. They both know it’s a lie anyway.

Hi! I love your jily writing so so much, it always leaves a smile on my face! I saw you were asking for a line + feeling + color, so I thought I’d give it a go :)

“I keep every letter...” + relaxed + golden

I hope you’re having a good day!

How about General 42: Are you flirting with me?

Lily can feel the music pulsing all over her as she stands in the middle of the common room. Her heartbeat still hasn’t calmed down after dancing for two hours straight and she swears it’s pounding in her chest simultaneously with the rhythm.

When she attempts to drink from the cup in her hand, which she miraculously still hasn’t spilled, she finds it empty. That explains the lack of clumsiness on her part, she thinks, or the fact that her whole body is throbbing like something red, raw, and alive.

The sweat is making frizzy curls stick to the skin around her neck, and it suddenly feels too hot among all these people she can hardly breathe. Escaping seems like a good idea now, to get away from this stifling air and maybe to get a drink for her parched throat.

It takes a moment for her to locate the makeshift bar but when she does, she finds herself buzzing for a whole different reason with a mouth drier than before.

It really is not fair on her addled brain for him to look this good.

She imagines herself now looking thirsty on another level, but she can’t find it within her to care as she drinks in James’ relaxed posture from afar. He is slouching against the table with a loose grip on his bottle and she admires the easy smile on his lips, so different from the intensity of it just mere hours ago. She notes with desperation he’d also changed from his Quidditch robes, which she can’t decide whether is better or worse.

His arm flexes under the t-shirt as he ruffles his hair.

Worse, then. Definitely worse.

She could try to reason with herself about how she was already going there anyway and how James has no effect on the speed of her steps. But she’s not fooling anyone, least of all herself, not with this much alcohol in her system and want in her blood.

“Now why are you not dancing at your own victory party, captain?”

He doesn’t look startled to see her beside him. “I think you’ve danced enough for both of us out there, Evans.

“I would’ve danced more if you were there with me too.”

The sad thing is, she doesn’t even get nervous about making these remarks anymore. The excitement to see whether he’d flirt back has faded away after her first few tries, his obliviousness to Lily’s all pitiful attempts now just a game for the girls to see how far she can take it.

“It’s not like I was miserable over here,” he chuckles. “I was just… enjoying the ambiance.”

“Is that what they call it now? Watching pretty girls dance from afar?” She adds a hair twirl for emphasis. Marlene would be proud of her.

He laughs wholeheartedly at this, a little too much if you ask her. She tries not to take offence.

“Guess I just needed a moment to take it all in. It’s the last year, y'know, trying to burn the good memories into my brain.”

She is certainly aware it’s the last year, thank you very much. The reminder prompts her to face him as she leans on the table like he does, debating whether a hair flip would be too much.

Ah, what the hell, she had passed too much two weeks ago.

“I’m sure we can make better memories than skulking in the corner of a crowded room and what? Drinking butterbeer?” She finds enough courage in herself to touch his arm as she adds the next part, “Well, no wonder you aren’t on the dance floor with me if that’s how you’re celebrating.”

“I think you have also drunk enough for both of us, Evans.”

“Nonsense.” She turns to face the various booze bottles and starts to add some firewhiskey in her cup to prove her point, a delayed mission on her part. “We wouldn’t be standing here talking if that was the case.”

Which is why she completely misses his face when he teasingly asks, “Are you flirting with me, Evans?”

She stops pouring the firewhiskey.

“What gave it away, Potter?”

The words alone could be considered a part of their usual bantering if it wasn’t for her deadpan voice. When she finally turns her head to gauge his reaction, she can see him trying to decide whether to laugh it off or panic as his joking question has now turned into something much more. She decides to press on.

“Was it the hair twirling? Cause I’m pretty sure I’ve been doing that for at least three weeks now.”

No answer. She isn’t sure he’s even breathing at the moment.

“No? Asking you to dance then? Something I’ve done at the last party too and got rejected again I must remind you.”

She knows it’s irrational for her to be angry at him about this, but it’s been too damn long, she has endured too much teasing, and she just wants to understand what has changed. James Potter stopped making sense to her a while ago.

“Guess not. Oh, it was touching you, right? Though, I’ve been doing that since almost the year’s started. Would be a real dark horse if that was the one.”

He gulps painfully, she really does feel sorry for him for a split second.

“It was probably the alcohol,” he chokes out at last.

“What? You only fancy me when I’m drunk or something, is that it?”

“Not– not your alcohol,” he stammers quickly. “My alcohol.”

Maybe Lily has drunk enough for the night. She definitely won’t admit he was right or that she can’t understand a word he’s saying though.

He apparently sees it anyway. “I don’t think I could accept you were flirting with me when I was sober, Evans. I still have a hard time believing it now.”

She gets a sudden calculating look in her eyes. “How far gone are you, Potter?”

“Alcohol-wise or you-wise?”

“Oh, now he flirts back,” she grumbles, the blush she feels rising in her cheeks ruining the disgruntled effect she’s going for. “How much of this will you be remembering tomorrow?”

“I don’t think I’ll be forgetting any of this till the day I die, Evans.”

“Good.” She stands up straight abruptly. “There is a chance I won’t have a clear memory of this moment.”

He wants to object to this vehemently, she can tell, but she doesn’t let him. “Knowing myself, I’ll probably be doing all of these in the foreseeable future too.”

“Which part,” he quips back.

“All of it. So you better get your act together.” She fixes some invisible wrinkles on her blouse before taking her cup back from the table. “I want you to bring your A game tomorrow.”

She leaves his side with a wink over her shoulder. She can’t wait to see the look on her friends’ face when she tells them her glaring success.