JILY CHALLENGE ( @jilychallenge ) | @lovesickjily vs @chierafied
"you have horrible taste in festival snacks, the clear winner is a pot of pringles and all you've got is some crappy cereal bars in here"
ffn or ao3
***
If James Potter had a dollar for every time someone offered him drugs, he swore he’d have twice the money in his bank account.
That should have been a given because hello? Music festival? Home to Instagram influencers and modern-day hippies alike? James shouldn’t have been surprised at the turn out.
Still, he didn’t think it would have been that bad.
Sure, the music was decent enough, but no one had warned him of strangers after strangers offering him their equally strange drugs. No one had warned him that once the sun went down, he’d see dark silhouettes hunched over bushes and smell what could have only been natural body waste.
And least of all, no one warned him that once he returned to his tent, he’d be greeted by a stranger sprawled out amidst the snacks that Sirius had been so insistent on bringing. A pretty stranger, no less.
She might have looked like the other girls who James had passed up— glitter decorating her cheeks like they were a cake and sprinkled atop her hair like snow stuck to a person’s clothes— but something about her set her apart from everyone else. It could have been her silky red hair, or those sparkling green eyes, but whatever it was, all James knew was that she was gorgeous. Supermodel— more than a supermodel— gorgeous.
“Is this your tent?” she asked, her mouth full of what James could only assume to be Sirius’s snacks. No hi, or hello, no greeting. Hell, not even an apology for trespassing on his property— nevermind the fact that the turf that the festival was on technically didn’t belong to him— and yet that, in combination with the crumbs decorating the perimeter of her lips, still made her look pretty.
He leaned against the pole holding up the tent, ignoring the smell of the unholy combination of drugs and alcohol wafting from the tents besides his, and cocked an eyebrow at her. “Is this yours?”
“Obviously not. I’ve actually got some taste buds.”
“And I don’t?”
She sat up, sticking her hands out to steady herself, and it was apparent that the readily-supplied stock of alcohol at the festival had gotten to her. "You have horrible taste in festival snacks, the clear winner is a pot of pringles, and all you've got are some crappy cereal bars in here.”
Right. Of course. Out of all the people that could have raided his and Sirius’s tent, it had to be someone critical of the poor, innocent snacks sitting in a messy heap on the floor. Even if he agreed that the snacks weren’t the best.
“Would you believe me if I said that I wasn’t in charge of the snacks?”
She hummed, pondering his wonders for a moment. “That would be a relief. Otherwise I would have questioned what evil entity in their right mind would give someone so fit a horrible taste in junk food.”
At his age, he shouldn’t have been so affected by someone complimenting his appearances, unable to help the light smirk forming on his face. “Think that horrible entity does exist.” He nodded towards the pile of her empty wrappers. “You practically ate all the snacks we packed.”
“The food here is horribly overpriced, and if not that, it’s swarming with flies.” She grimaced, plucking another Pringle from the box and shoving it into her mouth. “I’m terribly hungry, so do you really blame me?”
“Fair enough,” James said, and he decided that there was no harm in letting himself into the tent. It was his tent after all. “Move over.”
She complied, her hand still gripping the box of Pringles. With eyes greener than the fields and constellations of mascara dotting her cheeks, she suspiciously peered up at him. “What’s your name? Oh!” She clapped her hands together. “Don’t tell me. You look like… a Harry.”
“A Harry?” James asked, amused by the drunken rambles of an equally drunk girl. He leaned back, letting his body rock the chair with his weight. “My grandpa was named Henry, but no. It’s James. Potter.”
“James,” she echoed, and he liked the way the words fell from her lips. “I guessed a Prince name, so I suppose I wasn’t too far off.”
“You think I’m a prince?”
“Well, are you? Otherwise, I think I’ll have to leave a message for the Queen and tell her that I’ve found her long-lost son.”
“Tell her I’ve run away for good. Avoiding responsibilities and all that.”
“Obviously you aren’t here to court noble women.”
“Maybe I am,” James said, flashing her a slight cocky grin, and he bowed, outrageously curtsying her. “My lady.”
She laughed. “You’re bold, courting me when you don’t know my name.”
“‘Course I do. The name gods have told me that it’s…” He looked at her for help.
“Lily,” she finished.
“Lily,” he repeated, liking the sound of it rolling off his lips. “You a flower, then?”
She sighed, leaning back. “Maybe. I’ve got a sister named Petunia if that helps my case.”
James shrugged. “Depends on if you want to be a flower or not.”
“What I want right now,” she started, flopping her head back onto one of the pillows littering the tent floor and holding up the now-empty can of Pringles. “Are better snacks.”
“I reckon if you raid one of the other gazillion tents, you’ll be able to get that.”
“That, unfortunately, means I’d have to get up.” She buried her head further into the pillow as if to prove her point. “Is this yours?”
“I mean, it is my tent.”
“That’s the wrong answer. It’s mine now.”
James smiled, no doubt amused even more than he would have been had he chosen to stay out to listen to Sirius’s horrible interpretations of the EDM beats that were currently blaring throughout the air. “Take good care of it, yeah? It’s my most prized possession.”
“Is it really?”
“Nah,” he replied, shaking his head. “There was a pack of pillows on sale at the store the other day.”
She laughed. “You’re supposed to be wooing me here.”
“Thought I was. You’re not into thrifty blokes? Thought you’d be the type, seeing as we’re at a music festival and all.”
“And yet we’re not participating. Why is that so?”
“Because I found you raiding my tent and eating all the snacks?” James replied, and she let out a huff, weakly and terribly chucking a pillow that sent his athletic side into tears. “Couldn’t help but get sideswept.”
She sat up. “What do you say we get out there, then?”
He grinned. “Lead the way.”
***
In theory, it shouldn’t have been so hard to lead someone around, to take them by their hand and show them the way.
In reality, it was the exact opposite— so bloody hard. Because even if said someone was the prettiest girl that James had ever seen in his life, it was really hard to maneuver the two of them around throngs of people who were all out of it. Thank the bloody drugs.
As they got closer and closer to the main stage, James careful to step over what he hoped could have only been throw up and not something else, the music grew louder and louder. And, apparently, Lily’s excitement grew as well.
“I love this song!” she exclaimed over the music, moving her body to the beat.
“Yeah? You a fan?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never heard of them in my life, but you can’t deny how good they are!”
Lily swayed to the beat, grabbing his hands to make him move along to the rhythm. If he was being honest, he didn’t think he’d find himself in the company of another person who wasn’t Sirius— not tonight, at least. Perhaps it was the alcohol from earlier that day, or maybe it was the adrenaline that came with the thrill of being one among an entire crowd of people jumping and dancing and throwing their hearts— and stomach’s contents, to the slight disgust of James— out, but James didn’t think he felt so alive.
WIth everyone singing along to the song, James couldn’t help but to join in, screaming along with them and watching Lily jump around. And it wasn’t planned. It just sort of… happened.
Even surrounded by people, it still somehow felt like just the two of them, and he kissed her. Spontaneously. Hands looping around her waist and pulling her to his chest, James pressed his lips around hers, slowly and tentatively, before it escalated into something a little more.
Her lips tasted salty— perhaps from the Pringles that she’d eaten— but he didn’t mind a bit, determined to deepen the kiss. The action seemed to elevate every one of his senses, pounding at his ears even harder as the music seemed to grow louder.
And when they— he didn’t even know who had done it first— pulled away, he didn’t think he was letting her go anytime soon.
***
The bright, sudden sun jolted James awake.
“Rise and fucking shine,” Sirius announced, walking in through the flap of the tent and making a beeline towards the cooler.
James groaned. “Fuck off.”
“I was about to, actually. It reeks of a potential relationship in here,” Sirius said with a grimace, and satisfied with the water bottle in his hand, he turned back around. “We’re leaving in ten.”
And then it was James and Lily alone once again.
Lily shifted besides James, having spent the night in the tent with him, and to keep Sirius away, she promised that she’d pay him back for all his snacks that she’d eaten. She rolled over, snuggling herself into the crook of his neck. “Good morning. Did you get a good night’s sleep?”
“As good that sleep could be with the bloody mosquitoes flying around. Swear I had to swat off at least a dozen for my lady.”
“And who is your lady?”
WIth her tucked against his person, it was obvious who that title belonged to. “Am I being too presumptuous?”
“No,” she hummed. “But I’ve got a massive headache right now, and I don’t think the flutters in my stomach are helping any matters.”
“Ah. That’s my bad. Is there anything that I can do to help?”
“Well…” she started, looking over at him with a light glint in her eyes. “There is something.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“And would that involve maybe seeing you again?”
“Only if you get better snacks next time,” she said, and James let out a chuckle, letting his hand fly down to hers and giving it a slight squeeze.
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From first kisses to first crushes, James and Lily have always been inseparable growing up. Now thousands of miles apart, they struggle to fight hidden feelings and to keep everything the way it all used to be.
***
He spread his legs out, and she used that to her advantage, laying down so that her head rested atop of his thighs. “We need a plan.”
“A plan?” he repeated, shifting so that they were both more comfortable.
“For you to get a date with Melisa?”
“Oh. Nah,” he said simply, and she tilted her head backwards to gauge him properly. “She’s dating some other bloke right now. I’ll just… wait it out, I reckon. Don’t really fancy being a homewrecker.”
Lily laughed, and the smallest drop of water hitting her cheek indicated that the clouds had enough for the day. “Waiting out is a good idea. To an extent. What if they never break up and get married on a beach instead?”
“They won’t last,” he told her reassuringly, and Lily watched another drop fall, this time splashing on his left leg. “What are the odds that you’ll get married to someone you’ve known since you were kids? Wouldn’t you, I dunno, get sick of them after a while?”
“It could happen,” Lily replied, and she observed the clouds getting darker with each passing second before turning her gaze back to James. She smiled at him teasingly. “Who knows, maybe we’ll end up married to each other.”
James merely stared at her with a serious expression, not saying a word, and, like it was practiced, they both burst into laughter.
That probably should have been a given— it was, after all, the middle of bloody December, where natural selection took its course on the idiots foolish enough to play games of life or death outside— but that doesn’t divert from the fact that it’s absolutely freezing. James doesn’t need to be outside to know that it’s cold enough for his spit to turn into a popsicle. He’s got a perfectly accurate weather app on his phone and a view of his frosted windows to have a good idea.
And yet, despite the brutal winters that were raging outside of the walls of his flat, James still thought it to be a better fate to be outside than to sit inside hearing the constant moans and groans of the couple next door.
Sirius liked to say James’ flagrant disapproval of those sort of couples stemmed from James’ ‘inability to commit to a long-term monogamous relationship’. James liked to respond that he just wanted a good night’s rest without knowing exactly how his neighbours were like in bed.
Sleep.
That really couldn’t have been too much to ask for.
From first kisses to first crushes, James and Lily have always been inseparable growing up. Now thousands of miles apart, they struggle to fight hidden feelings and to keep everything the way it all used to be.
***
“There’s quite a difference between having a big brain and having a big head.”
“And I of all people should know?”
“Precisely,” she teased.
“That’s cold,” he replied, pouting at her, and she reached out, wiping it literally off of his face. “Only the nicest person in the world would make an exception for me.”
“Then I suppose that makes you special,” Lily said, her lip curving up at a corner. “But I don’t suppose I’m as great as you make me out to be.”
James shook his head. “Nah. It’s true. You’re like… walking sunshine. So bloody nice to everyone and everything you meet.”
“And what about you?” she asked, tilting her head up at him. “You’re the noblest boy in the world.”
“Doubt nobility is something that’s as needed as kindness,” James responded, his ears flushing red at her compliment. Lily lived for the moments when he was so vulnerable like he was right now, letting his walls down for her to see.
“It’s always needed. The world needs more James Potters.”
“Only if they’ve got an equal number of Lily Evans to match.”
for the amazing, wonderful, incredible @women-inthe-sequel !!!!!!!!!!!! happy (belated) birthday you amazing person ahhhhhhhh <3 <3 <3
Summary: The first rule of being an actress was to never, under any circumstances, fall for a co-star. Lily Evans didn’t think that she’d have that problem, not with James Potter at that rate, but life seemed to have its surprises.
please give me love and comments on ao3 or ffn
“I love you.”
The words slipped out of his mouth easily, quickly, as if they were syrup falling atop a pile of complete and utter sweetness.
She was fairly apt to hearing the utterance of such words, so much to the point that such lines seemed to lose the luster associated with the endearing term.
Now though, there was no need to think about anything but love. She was in love, right now, at this very moment, so in love that she couldn’t will herself to think about anything but the man sitting to the left of her, the words out in the open air, hanging over them like a thin sheet. They were in the back of a car, illuminated by nothing but the moonlight drifting in from the windows and the streetlights that rolled by, and from her position, she could make out the glows that brought out the hazel in his eyes, swirling with so many colours that she couldn’t even pinpoint one shade that she liked best.
They’d gone through so much together, had been marked by horrendous experiences that they could only learn to forget in the presence of one another, and after all that they had been through, they’d finally gotten time by themselves, secluded from the rest of the world without so much as a fear of unwarranted interruptions. The car would keep driving, and there would be nothing that disrupted their time together. From her closeness to him, she could make out the scar painting the side of his cheek, which had come from the torture that he’d endured in an effort from the enemy team to get answers out of him. He was propped up against his seat now, one long leg resting on the seat beside him, though not stretching far enough to reach her.
Love.
It wasn’t as if it was anything new that she didn’t know.
In the back of her mind, it was something that she’d always acknowledged.
Of course she knew that he was in love with her. She’d heard him calling out for him, a sound so heartbreakingly tragic, when she finally found her way right back to him, but as much as she wanted to forget the sight of him in so much pain, she knew that she could never, not when that scar was a physical reminder of all that he’d been through.
The pain that he’d gone through was more than enough to push those words out of his lips, and so she turned towards him, unclicking her seatbelt as she slid towards him. “Confessing after nearly dying of not giving out personal information?”
Rather than smiling, he gave her a look of slight derision, before turning towards the window. He scoffed. “Forget it. Nevermind, then.”
Her hand flew up to his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes, and she made out his uncertainty despite having said the words with an air of confidence, as if he was unsure of whether or not she reciprocated his feelings. She smiled softly at him. “I’m not forgetting anything. I already knew.”
The corner of his lip jutted outwards, though not by enough to break the harshness on his face. “Was it really that bloody obvious?”
She knew how painfully obvious it was. He’d left her far more lingering looks than a person could ever have, had always put her safety above his own, and although it was far more reckless on his part than romantic, the gestures went too far for her to not notice. The love that he felt for her was so strong that it practically radiated off of him, bounced off every surface of the walls, until it hit her.
She loved him as well. How could she not? To share experiences with someone that you didn’t share with anyone else made that person special, and it left an everlasting mark on her heart. She let every instance of her love for him take a physical manifestation on her face so that all she could showcase towards him was her adoration, and she brought herself closer so that she was flushed against him.
Every second had led to this one singular moment, this one moment that they’d anticipated for the longest of times.
She let out a light laugh. “Our job involves secrecy. If there’s one thing that you can’t seem to hide, it’s your feelings.”
He grimaced slightly. “I tried my best,” he grumbled, “It’s a bit hard when it’s you.”
“And it’s just me.” She let her other hand cup his cheek, and she gave him a warm smile. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
He finally smiled in response, and she felt her eyes closing, knowing what was to come next, but with the quietness that had filled the room in those very seconds, she couldn’t help but think about the current situation at hand.
She couldn’t do this.
There was so much wrong with it all, and when his lips fell against hers, nothing felt magical at all.
The only thing she felt right there, right now, was disgust.
Complete and absolute disgust.
She wasn’t Phoebe Clarke anymore. Phoebe Clarke was in love with the man standing in front of her; Phoebe felt the love that millions, perhaps billions, of people wanted to feel at some point in their lifetime.
She, on the other hand, was Lily Evans, and kissing her at that very present moment was definitely not Thomas Bell, mysterious, handsome, brave. James Potter was kissing her, and no amount of talent could ever brace her for the sensation of his lips against her own, not without feeling as if she was stepping into muddy water with socks present on her feet— wet and gross and unbearable. It was far too much to ask of her, and she was unnerved by his hands placed ever-so-innocently on her waist and cheek, holding her tenderly when all she wanted was for him to get off of her.
She wanted to be saved from this monster of a situation, and when the director yelled out a sudden “Cut!”, she felt relief overtaking every one of her senses, to which she immediately tugged the messy-haired man right off of her person. She didn’t dwell on the fact that there would be a retake— perhaps retakes after retakes— because all she could think about was the fact that her lips would permanently be scarred from encountering a pair as gruesome as the very ones on James Potter’s face.
“Miss Evans,” the director and productor— Minerva McGonagall, who was only one of the most well-respected people when it came to the industry— said, approaching her, with a walk so brisk that anyone would have moved out of the way so as to avoid her. “I sincerely hope that you don’t intend to demonstrate your talents through a kiss as tragic as this was.”
She felt her cheeks flush a bit at the woman’s words. “I don’t. I’m sorry.”
McGonagall nodded sternly at her. “We’ll try another take shortly, then. Please take a small break.”
She walked away, and Lily picked up her bottle of water, watching as Mary approached her with makeup in her hands.
“Maybe look less like you’re snogging a frog?” Mary said beside her, and when Lily glared at her, she was met with a false smile. “Just a suggestion.”
“At this rate, I’d rather a frog than him.” Her eyes flickered over to him, their topic of conversation, who was talking in low tones with his friend, and it was public information that the two of them were the closest that friends could have ever been. She tore her eyes away from him, scorn evident on her face, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of thinking that she was staring at him from afar.
“He’s much more gorgeous than a frog could ever be,” Mary replied, and she reached out to fix some of Lily’s makeup. “Just pretend he’s the man of your dreams. That’s how you’ve gotten through your other movie kisses, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” she sighed, “But none of my other co-stars whom I’ve kissed had personalities like his.”
“You don’t kiss personality. You kiss lips.”
Lily regarded her friend’s response with disdain. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m not kissing anyone. Phoebe is.”
“Then why so visibly perturbed by James here?” another voice cut in, and she closed her eyes so as to hide the eye roll that was threatening to break out onto her face. It was, of course, Sirius Black, who was the second person that she absolutely despised at this set. He had taken it upon himself to loiter about each day at the set despite not having an active role in the film’s production, and they had let him. “Theoretically, two attractive— or, in this case, one attractive and the other decent at best, you take your pick on who’s who— people should have mind-blowing snogs. You’re slacking, Evans.”
“I am not,” she defended herself, “I can’t just will myself to kiss someone who I have absolutely no interest in.”
“Ouch,” Potter said, seemingly out of nowhere, and she was quick to notice that he refused to catch her eye, his eyes trained on his bottle instead, “I thought you’d done a pretty good job convincing me otherwise.”
“With that kiss, I’d say you’re easy to persuade,” Sirius replied, and he looked over towards Lily, “I’ve seen compilations of the hottest, best, sweetest— whichever adjective you bloody fucking fancy using kisses online— and you’ve been in all of them. You’re slacking, Evans.”
She didn’t want to satisfy him with the fact that he was right.
She knew, to an extent, just how talented she was of an actress, if the many awards that she’d earned were of any telling, and, to her slight embarrassment, how brilliant of a kisser she was, as confirmed by more or less every one of her co-stars, who gushed about her during interviews whenever they’d had a chance. It wasn’t as if she shied away from productions that involved romance— she’d starred in a good bit of them herself— but there was something so different about James Potter that repulsed her to the point that just the thought of kissing him was unbearable.
She knew what it was, of course, but facing it was something that she didn’t want to do.
“Surely you’ve got to have something better to do than watch videos of me in lip-lock with my co-stars.”
“Of course I do,” Sirius affirmed with a grin, and he looked back at Potter, who had been taking a sip from his own water, “My favourite pastime is watching him squirm around.”
She held off any retort that had begun growing on her lips, as McGonagall called out for them to reshoot the scene, merely giving Sirius one last little glare, and she sighed softly, not wanting to give the production staff a harder time than usual. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Sirius said, assuming that she was addressing him, “I don’t even bloody blame you for not wanting to kiss him.”
She found it strange that Potter had no retort of his own, no talk that inflated his overly-grown ego, because unlike every other filming day, he hadn’t even once taken advantage of the opportunity to tease her, and he merely walked back to the center of the set without another word. It was as if he was almost offended, but there was nothing new about her behaviour towards him, and it was so clear how she felt towards him, even with the professionalism that she maintained to keep between them.
She seated herself in her initial position in the car, telling herself that she could do it. She could kiss Potter— no, she was kissing Thomas Bell, who was a completely different person of his own, a man who could have made anybody attracted to the male gender swoon.
She was Lily Evans— Phoebe Clarke— and there was so much that she’d accomplished in her life, whether it was personal hardships or watching someone she loved in great pain, it didn’t matter, because if she could get through everything that life had thrown at her so far, then she could definitely kiss the man sitting beside her.
Each line that she delivered, falling out of her lips the exact way that they were intended to be said, led up to the moment that Phoebe had been expecting for practically her entire life. She wanted him, needed him, and yet, Lily couldn’t help but break character at the sensation of James Potter’s lips on hers, as if touching him would spread some sort of illness throughout her entire body.
She’d failed again.
Then again, and again, and then again.
She had no idea how many retakes they’d done, having lost count after twelve, and she hated it, hated every single little aspect of it, from the feel of James Potter’s lips on her own, to the fact that a measly little kissing scene was destroying the title that she’d worked so hard to established as a one-take wonder. She didn’t want to think about the fact that the times of all of the fleeting moments that her lips had fallen upon his could have added up to equal the time of one proper on-screen kiss.
Lily was sorry. She truly, genuinely was sorry, and her feelings was absolutely worsened by the staff claiming that it was fine, because it most definitely was not fine.
Needless to say, McGonagall was absolutely fuming, stunned at the very least. “Miss Evans.”
“I’m so sorry, I just—”
She stopped herself, not wanting to tell her reason for as to why exactly James Potter disgusted her, because as much as she advocated speaking up in situations where taking action was necessary, she didn’t want to out him here. It would only look bad on her part.
McGonagall looked at her with pursed lips. “Regardless of whatever it is plaguing your mind, I expected far more from you. Surely, Potter can’t be too bad, can he?”
“I— no, It’s not that.” It was that.
“Then, in theory, it shouldn’t be difficult to properly act out the scene.”
She shook her head in disagreement. “It’s rather difficult to engage in something so passionate when there isn’t an ounce of affection towards my co-star.”
McGonagall raised an eyebrow at her before breathing deeply through her nose. Rather than responding, she turned away from her, and Lily watched as she wheeled Potter back towards her. He looked confused. “Sorry, I— What is it that you needed?”
“Potter,” McGonagall started, and then she met eyes with Lily, “There is no doubt that constant reshoots will not result in a success. Fortunately, I understand that the problem is that you both have not taken the time to getting to know one another on a friendly basis. I believe that there is only one solution.”
Lily blinked, her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re not saying—”
“Potter and Evans,” McGonagall cut her off sharply, as if she was a professor disciplining her students, “You two are to spend at least one hour a day with one another until the thought of one another no longer brings revulsion to your faces.”
The breath flew out of her lips. There was a reason why McGonagall was so successful in the industry, and this was a means of exercising the power that she held.
“You’re saying we need to fake-date each other to get the kissing right,” Potter said, and he swallowed loudly. It was the manner that he said it, so nonchalantly, as if it was often that he went on fake dates with co-stars that disliked him immensely.
McGonagall gave him a curt nod. “Precisely.”
She’d already known what was to come as soon as she’d pulled Potter over, but to hear the woman’s words of confirmation did nothing but heighten the sense of dizziness that was overtaking her head.
There was no way out of it.
If she wanted to nail her role, she had to pretend to date James Potter.
+++
“Potter, you look absolutely ridiculous,” Lily said to the messy-haired man sitting across from her, only she couldn’t even see the disorganisation of such a feature, because he’d taken to topping his head with a fisherman hat to conceal his identity.
A fisherman hat. What was he thinking?
She wasn’t even entirely sure if he could even see, for in place of his usual thick-rimmed glasses were a pair of large sunglasses, which she’d have thought strange if she wasn’t donning a similar pair herself. Instead of donning fishing accessories, however, she was wearing a blonde wig, topped with a white hat, as if she was about to attend one of Jay Gatsby’s elaborate parties. It was, in all, a strange experience, even more strange when considering the fact that she’d somehow agreed to his idea of wearing a disguise so that they wouldn’t be caught out in public together.
They were people. They needed privacy just as much as the person next door needed it.
“Ridiculously gorgeous, maybe,” he replied with a grin, one that she imagined made millions of women swoon at the sight of, and yet Lily only felt exasperated, if even that, by his response. He leaned in close to her, as if he was telling her a secret. ”Between the two of us, though, I think you look better with red than blonde.”
She merely looked at him with disinterest, not even completely sure if he was serious or not, and she absolutely hated how someone like him had somehow managed to hit the genetic jackpot when it came to appearances, hated how he could have been exactly her type had he had the right personality to go with it. Her eyes flew right back down at the menu of the restaurant that they’d decided on visiting. “Unfortunately, I don’t make myself presentable to impress you.”
“‘Course you don’t,” he agreed, “You’ve already impressed me.”
“I’m swooning,” she said flatly, and she looked up at the waiter approaching them, careful not to hold his gaze for too long in case he knew who they were. The man looked unfazed at the sight of them, as if fishermen and old-fashioned women went on dates all the time, but she’d rather his disinterest than any other reaction a person could have to them.
“Good afternoon,” he greeted them, perhaps attempting to sound as suave as he possibly could, but with Lily’s experience as an actress, all she could sense from him was complete and utter boredom, as if he was waiting for his shift to end, “Are you ready to order?”
Potter cleared his throat. “Right, could we get one of everything on the menu?” he asked, and she did not miss the manner in which his voice had seemed to dropped an octave or two. She wasn’t even sure whether she should be more surprised at the fact that he was planning on ordering more than enough to food to feed a family of eight or the obvious his change in voice.
The waiter, it seemed, was more startled at Potter’s request. “Sir, are you—”
“Sure?” Potter cut him off with the same exact tone of voice, “That’s my middle name, matter of fact. Wilson Sure Pine.”
Lily placed her own menu down, looking at the waiter with as much of an apologetic look as she could without revealing her eyes to him. “I’m sorry. My boyfriend—” She said the last bit with slight pain. “ —And I will both be taking the special of the day, thank you.”
The waiter regarded them with a slight look of confusion before nodding. “And any drinks?”
“Water.”
“Milk.”
She blanched at his response. “I’m not one to judge, but who the bloody—”
“We’ll both take water,” Potter interrupted, flashing a grin towards the waiter, who was undoubtedly going to get a major tip solely for just being able to tolerate them. He nodded one last time before walking away, though not before turning back around to give them one last glance. Potter looked at her. “Boyfriend? When we haven’t had a proper first kiss yet?”
“Because you’re notorious in the acting industry, I assume you understand the acts of being assigned a character and pretending to live their lives in accordance to the script.”
“‘Course I do. I never knew that there was a script to follow.”
“There’s always a script, Pine,” she said pointedly, “You’re just not following it.”
“You should stop hoarding the script then, yeah? If one actor is out of line, then the entire movie is out of line.”
She nearly felt a smile threatening to fly across her face, but it wasn’t as if she was at the very top of the industry where she was concerned for no reason, and so her face showed no visibly betrayal to her true feelings towards him. They were getting friendly, far too friendly for her liking, not when he’d done nothing in his power to earn the respect that he’d so lost from her years ago. Her pride was not going to give in so easily. “It already was out of line with you as the lead.”
It was a lie.
She’d seen enough of his acting appearances in the movies that he’d starred in, whether she liked it or not, and the sights of him in each one nearly managed to send her heart flying because his characters were so charmingly intriguing that they were completely different from the person playing them. She’d only begrudgingly admit that he’d deserved every one of his awards that he’d won, though she’d never say it to his face. Never.
The easy grin on his face faltered slightly. “Evans, I— why do you hate me so much?”
The fact that he didn’t even remember made her blood boil. It was only that she’d spent every morning before going to the set that she felt intense dread, which typically overtook any excitement for her job, solely because he was there, working with her. It was as if she hadn’t woken up morning after morning feeling violated because men like him walked the earth, standing among innocent people despite not having the right to. “You must be the absolute worst if you can’t even recall doing something so terrible to someone else.”
He blinked. “What?”
It didn’t matter that he looked extremely confounded by her words, because any actor with abilities matching her own could easily disguise their true thoughts and feelings. It was, perhaps, how many corrupted people were able to get away with their actions without consequences, because a person’s face could give away everything without them even saying so much of a word. She scoffed lightly. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”
“I… don’t?” She watched him, perhaps pretending to be wracking his brain for some sort of incident that he might have done, and he suddenly looked like a deer caught in the headlights, as if he was terrified at the implications of her words. “I— Listen, I’ve said in interviews that I’ve had a crush on you in the past, but I swear, I don’t mean it in the creepy fashion. It’s only ever been a celebrity crush— you know, where I’ve acknowledged your good attributes and—”
She felt her eyebrows scrunching together more and more as he went on, and now, it seemed, it was her turn to be confused. What was he going on about? She’d never been aware of his attraction to her, and even then, she would never have been bothered by any crush— celebrity, platonic, romantic, whichever. “Potter, what the bloody hell are you on about?”
“It’s pretty obvious what—” He stopped, and his eyes widened. He let out a light groan. “Fuck. That was not what you were talking about. Forget that last bit of information, yeah?”
She carefully tucked his strange confession into a neat little file, placing it carefully into a small shelf in the most important area of her brain to be used later. “I can’t make any promises about that.”
He nodded painfully, and he swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving at the action. “Right. Evans, I’m sorry everything that I’ve done to you in the past.”
“You can’t expect me to forgive you when you don’t even remember what you did.”
“That’s because I don’t know what I bloody did, if I really did anything at all. Please, tell me what I did so that I could reevaluate myself as a person,” he demanded, “At least to help get rid of that bloody grudge that you’ve so obviously been holding since you first saw me on set.”
“Right, as if that’s going to make your so-called apology more sincere than it already was.”
He laughed bitterly. “You’re— you’re so—”
“No, you’re so, what is it? Insane? Ridiculous? Absolutely out of my mind? All predictable words, really, but could you possibly blame me when you grabbed my arse in public— at an awards show, out of all places— and played it off like it was nothing?” Her face was heated up, but how could it not, when it was an event that plagued her mind on far too many nights than she could count? It made her feel far more violated than she could have ever felt, especially when she was already subjected to bouts of disrespect for her already-low amounts of privacy, what with the media always expected the most from her given her status. “You are so—”
“Wait. When I grabbed your— what?” he sputtered, finally able to keep up with the words spilling from her lips, and he looked affronted by her words, “I could never do that.”
She swore she saw red flash across her line of vision. “You’re—”
She was cut off promptly by the sound of the waiter’s steps, and she bit her lip, refraining from lashing out at the man sitting across from her, whose expression was nearly akin to that of a fish out of water. “Your water,” the waiter said, his eyes flickering between the two of them, as if he had sensed that something was different in the atmosphere now that her true feelings were out in the open.
“Thank you,” Lily managed to bite out, but even the best actors in the world couldn’t conceal all of the ill feelings that had been building inside of them for years. Potter mumbled out a quiet word of gratitude. Though still walking, there was something about the manner in which the worker had shuffled that made it seem that he was eager to get away from them, and she briefly imagined that he was thinking about how strained their relationship must have been before the thought quickly flew away.
Potter took a deep breath, swallowed, opened his mouth, and when he decided that that wasn’t enough to prepare him to speak, he chugged down a rather large bit of the water in the glass that he was given. “Evans,” he started, slowly, carefully, as if she was a lion that he’d encountered in the wild, “Could you explain when that’s ever happened? Because I can’t seem to imagine any other instance where we’ve made contact with each other before this film except for—” His eyes widened. “You— no. I swear it wasn’t me.”
“Wasn’t you?” she repeated, “Then how could you possibly know what I’m talking about?”
“Because I saw the bloke doing it to you!” he exclaimed, and it was loud enough to grab the attentions of the people sitting around them. She didn’t miss the soft murmurs coming from their surroundings, though she couldn’t hear what exactly they were saying, and so she focused her eyes back on him, unable to make out any emotion in his eyes because of the tint of his glasses. Continue, she tried to tell him, lowering her glasses down so that he could get the message just from looking at her eyes. He spoke again in a softer voice. “Mulciber. I— He was there, and I just— I got so bloody angry, you know? The fact that someone just up and did that to you— somewhere so public too. It’s bloody disgusting.”
She blinked, her turn to be confounded now, because as she put two and two together, the more it made sense. She’d made this man into a criminal of some sort in her mind, had held only disgust towards him for the most of two years, only to learn that it hadn’t even been him who had done it in the first place. She felt shame welling up inside of her for thinking so lowly of someone, especially when she had so many tendencies to see every ounce of goodness in every person, which had led to destroyed friendships in the past. Her shoulders drooped lightly. “I— I’m sorry for thinking so lowly of you, Potter.”
He shrugged lightly. “I know I can be an arse at times, so it’s no harm, really.”
She casted her eyes upwards at him, a sudden thought striking her head, and they narrowed. “You did not.”
“I didn’t…?” he replied, looking confused at her words, and he clerked this throat,” Sorry, I dunno what it is that I did exactly.”
“Don’t be coy,” she scoffed lightly, “You punched Mulciber after the awards show ended, didn’t you? It was all over the media.”
When she’d first heard the news, she’d get even more disgust welling up inside of her because she’d thought that he straight up punched somebody for no reason, even if that somebody was far too creepy than anyone’s liking. She’d thought that Potter had violent tendencies on top of the fact that he found it a hobby to grope women in public.
He glanced down at his water, mumbling, “He had it coming for him, anyway. Just the creepiness of him is enough to warrant at least a kick at him. I’d bloody go back to just swing at him even more than I did.”
“That doesn’t mean that— Potter, you can’t go around acting all noble on my behalf. That solves absolute nothing.”
“Nothing I could have done would have taken any of that groping back,” he shot back, “If he couldn’t bloody learn his lesson, then he should at least walk away with some sort of repercussion.”
“You can’t just go around punching people,” she snapped, and she took a moment to catch her breath, not exactly wanting to explode in his face in the company of other people, who were definitely looking now. Stay calm. Calm, calm, calm. “Potter, what about your reputation? What about you? You could have definitely gotten hurt.”
He shrugged. “I was more or less asking to get hurt, anyway. You, on the other hand… you had no choice in some creep touching you like that.”
She felt her heart waver for a split second at his words, but she willed that feeling away. She allowed her anger to dissipate, not exactly having the energy to lash out at someone who hadn’t done her wrong, despite what she’d thought for years on, and though she still felt a small morsel of it inside of her, she decided that she was not going to let it unravel out in front of Potter’s face. Before she could reply, though, the waiter came back around with their food, placing it down with just enough speed so that none of it would spill. “Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure,” he replied automatically, as if the response was drilled into his brain, but from the distance that he’d kept from them, it was obvious that it was most definitely far from his pleasure, and the only deterrent that kept him from saying otherwise was the risk of losing his job. Despite the ambience surrounding them from all sides of the restaurant, there was a silence that lingered in the air above them, and she wasn’t exactly sure if it was a comfortable silence or an uncomfortable silence.
Whichever it was though, she didn’t mind it, not when it gave her time to think.
Or, in theory, it did. His eyes were focused on her, and when she averted her eyes upwards to meet his own, they shifted downwards to his plate. He cut a piece of the meat and scooped it into his mouth, looking back at her with an eyebrow drawn. “What?” she asked him, and he shrugged lightly, washing his food date with a swig of water before answering.
“You’re not eating.”
“I’m not…” she trailed off, and she blinked. “Oh.”
It was difficult to maintain any speck of anger that had ignited in her, as the flames had now been reduced to small sparks now. There was no reason for her to be mad anymore, not when all of the damage had been done years ago, and if he was one to throw punches as attempts to serve justice, then she had no right to keep him from doing so, because he was far old enough to distinguish between right and wrong.
She took a bite of her own piece, shoveling it into her mouth and wiping it before turning at him once again. “Potter,” she said aloud, and her eyes softened slightly, “I’m so sorry. I hope we can leave it all in the past and start anew—”
“Don’t be,” he interrupted her, and her gave her a crooked grin, “It’s not like i’m entitled to your unconditional affections or anything. Conditional, maybe, for the film, but definitely not unconditional.”
For the first time, she allowed herself to smile in the presence of James Potter. No script, no camera, just the two of them together. “I signed a contract, so I’ll have to disagree with you on the conditional bit.”
Her smile seemed to encourage him. “Yeah?” he responded, “What about the affection bit? I reckon if we’re going to be friends— are we going to be friends now that this misunderstanding is resolved?”
She was slightly taken aback his words, and when she spotted no trace of insincerity in his tone, promptly closed her mouth. “I don’t see any other reason that should keep us from not being friends.”
“James.”
She blinked. “Sorry?”
“That’s my name. Lovely, wouldn’t you say?”
“I know what your name is, contrary to popular belief.”
He beamed. “Then, would you mind addressing me by that? Friends typically call each other by their first names, if you didn’t realise. At least let us be on a first name basis before any sort of scripted kissing, yeah?”
“I think we can check off scripted kissing as a milestone in our friendship,” she replied, “Even if it was the worst kisses I’ve ever had in my life.”
“Way to add salt to the wound, I’d say,” he joked, and she lightly rolled her eyes in response, but there was something about him— something that she hadn’t taken the time to notice— that made her compelled to keep that smile on her face. “Would it be safe to assume that you’re not going to look at me like I committed a capital crime anymore?”
“I look at everyone that way,” she defended.
He shook his head. “Nah. Lily Evans? As far as I know, that look’s reserved only for me, but honestly, I’d rather you not make me a special case, because I quite like seeing you smiling.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to stand out from all the rest of them, anyway,” she replied, and he smiled in response.
There was something different in the atmosphere now, and perhaps it was from the sheer fact that she’d made a new friend, which in itself was already something to rejoice at, but with him? James Potter? Perhaps anything was possible.
If she was asked how she’d think that the entire day with him would go beforehand, she would have thought that she’d much rather do anything else, was more than willing to do anything else, yet there she was, laughing at a joke that he’d said, despite it not even being remotely funny. Well, perhaps a bit funny, but she’d usually put far much more of a fight when it came to laughter.
With James, though, it was easy. It was comfortable.
Near the end of the “date,” he’d made a great deal of paying the entire bill, not because he thought it was a chivalrous thing of him to do, because had that been the case, he’d have easily let her split the bill with him. No, it was because he claimed that if the worker saw the name on her card, he’d go absolutely wild, and there was no way to escape the throngs of people rushing in to meet her. When she refuted his statement with the fact that he was easily just as famous, he refused to listen to her.
“Promise me you won’t go bonkers if you read the name on my card?” James asked the server in that same voice from earlier, and the man was definitely tiring from his shenanigans.
“Sir, I have no time for this.” He motioned towards the entire restaurant, each seat filled with people, as if he managed the entire place by himself.
“Right.” He handed the man his card, who swiped it without so much as a glance at it, until he handed it right back to him, and his eyes widened, flickering from the card, then towards James. Needless to say, he was absolutely in disbelief.
“I— You’re—”
James gave him a crooked grin, and he secured an arm around Lily’s waist, his hand hovering in the air rather than clasped onto her person, to which she was immensely grateful for. “Have a fantastic day.”
The air felt cool against her skin as soon as they’d left the establishment, and he let go of her, laughter falling from his lips when they were out of range. She couldn’t help but join in with him, and she found that she quite liked his laugh, a sound that she couldn’t believe that she’d been missing out on for the longest of times. It was only unfortunate that they were nearing the end of filming, because she would have loved to spend more time with him, to hear his laugh and his jokes.
“Have you a safe way to get home?” he asked her once they’d calmed down, “I don’t want you to end up as a missing person or anything, in the case that some person manages to somehow outsmart you.”
She nodded, smiling softly in return. “There’s some perks of being famous. What about you?”
“I reckon I’m in good— Oi, Evans. Watch out!”
Before she had the chance to ask him to elaborate, she suddenly felt his arms whirling around her person, whisking away from the edge of the street and turning her as that his back was facing the road instead. It seemed as if everything was moving in slow motion, and from the closeness of his face to hers, she realised just how much more attractive he was, with the gold in his eyes shining now that the suddenness of his movements had thrown his glasses off of his face.
It was strange, she thought, how one little moment could change her perspective on one person, and yet, there she was, staring up at James Potter with a new sense of fascination. She’d never taken a moment out of her day to realise just how long his eyelashes were, or just how sharp his jawline was. Her heart seemed to have been pounding, so loudly that she wouldn’t have been surprised if everyone else in the world could hear it, and—
Everything moved as paced once again as soon as she watched him get pelted with water.
Right, there was no magical little moments— or, at least not any as magical as how the fairy tales depicted— in the outside world.
A car had come, dangerously veering near the curb, and though it was not close enough to hit either of them, it still sprinkled a surge of water over him, as it had rained the night before. His eyes closed, as if he could will himself away from the situation, and he promptly let go of her, his hands flying up to his hat to take it off. “You good?” he asked, wringing the hat to get rid of excess water.
“Considering the fact that I’m dry, I’d say that I am,” she said, watching with a mixture of amusement and shock as he struggled with his apparent wetness.
She was, it seemed, not the only one. People had begun pointing and noticing now, and she’d have been an absolutely fool if she thought that there was any other explanation for their staring, especially when they’d pulled out their phones to record them. “James.”
“Hold on, I just—”
“People have noticed.”
“People have— shit.” He took her hand, and she didn’t miss the warmth that encompassed every inch of it, leading her to his car that he’d parked a few buildings away. “Do you trust me?”
“You punched a bloke for me, so I’d say—”
“Great.” He unlocked the car for her, and with one last glance at the crowd growing around them, they stepped inside.
+++
James Potter, like his alter-ego Thomas Bell, was an enigmatic person, one that grinded the gears in her brain as she figured out just exactly what to make of him.
He was undeniably charming, and just the thought of his charm brought to mind the dimple that took residence on the left side of his face, one that was so lovely that she’d be more than happy to pay rent to move in to live in it.
They’d gone on more of their assigned dates, each one somehow being better than the last, perhaps because it was so difficult to not want to look forward to seeing him once again. They hadn’t done anything after the first date, and he’d merely dropped her off with a few parting words, staying true to the words that she knew that he would keep.
Somehow, though, the world seemed to be under the notion that they were a couple now, even if they didn’t done anything but appear in public together. One date— one small little date done solely for the purpose of better getting into her character— and now, she was apparently dating James Potter. No one seemed to even be against the two of them together, no one but them.
Or on the outside, she was opposed to it. The inside, it seemed, was far more complicated.
McGonagall saw the news as a means of gaining publicity for the film, as if practically the entire nation wasn’t already anticipating its release since learning about who was to be the leads of it, as if the entire nation wasn’t already talking about how the two people that they’d wanted to be a couple were finally going to get screen time together. She’d always assumed that it was because they were two attractive people, and it was, apparently, in human nature to pair up two people for their looks no matter the little interaction that they’d had between them.
Now, though, perhaps they weren’t as mad as it’d appeared.
He was far too lovely for his own good, for her own good.
If she were to be asked about her opinions on him a year ago, she’d have responded with a simple phrase that implied that she couldn’t tolerate him, but when the media tended to blow every little word that slipped from her mouth out of proportion, it was horrible on her part if she said anything worse. If she were to be asked about her opinions on him a week ago, it would have been something completely different from now.
Now— now, she wished that they’d gotten the chance to talk sometime much earlier in the past, if it meant that their friendship came earlier.
Because they were the highlights of practically every unreliable magazine article now, he’d taken to putting her privacy over his own, using any article of clothing that he had to cover her, and the gesture didn’t at all go unnoticed by her. It was far too sweet of him, even if his efforts were futile.
Getting to know James Potter, it seemed, was a means of also getting to know herself.
He’d somehow been able to see right through her, just as much as she saw right through him, but to balance out the seriousness, they’d had moments where they laughed so loudly that the universe must have heard the sounds in their joy. The birds must have been jealous of them, because no song of theirs could possibly have been able to match the sheer delight that she and James shared.
It was nearly alarming just how smooth the transition into friendship was, and even more alarming than that was the fact that she felt something so much more different than what a friend should feel towards another friend.
The first rule of being an actress, especially one who played more than a handful of characters involved in a romantic relationship with another character, was to never, not under any circumstances, fall for a co-star. Feelings made roles far more awkward than they should have been, and she thought she’d always been sensible. It had never happened, no matter how pleasant her co-stars had been, but now, James Potter seemed to be breaking records for her.
She had feelings for him, and it didn’t help that today would be the day that the feelings were to manifest into a form of physicality, where her affections were to be embedded in a fake kiss done solely for a film.
Then again though, it wouldn’t be Lily kissing James, no matter how much she wanted it to be otherwise. It was Phoebe kissing Thomas.
She was distinctly aware of all of the cameras on her, all of the eyes on her, but she didn’t let it deter her from delivering her lines as intended, letting the words stream out of her lips as directed. They were back in the car again, and this time, she didn’t fail to miss how unfathomably beautiful the man sitting beside her was.
“Our job involves secrecy. If there’s one thing that you can’t seem to hide, it’s your feelings.”
He grimaced slightly. “I tried my best,” he grumbled, “It’s a bit hard when it’s you.”
Something fluttered in the depths of her stomach when he said that, something that hadn’t been there the first time she’d heard those words. She ignored it, not even a millisecond spent breaking her character, because she was most definitely going to nail this kiss once and for all.
“And it’s just me.” She let her other hand cup his cheek, and she gave him a warm smile. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
The curves of his lips were unmissed, and she pulled her closer to him, her hand flying towards his own and holding it kindly for a split second, before moving back up to his face where they had sat before. Her eyes drew closed, and she leaned in, pressing her lips against his, and where disgust had occupied before was now feelings of anticipation, excitement.
She hadn’t gotten this far before with him. Before, it was a small touch of the lips, barely enough to register, and it was more than enough to keep her going on further.
It was slow, hesitant, as if they were attempting to savour the experience for the first time, and she was noticeably aware of the warmth spreading across her body as his hands lightly cupped her chin. Thomas Bell— no, James Potter— tasted sweet, heavenly, and the mere fact that she’d been missing out on this this entire time was far beyond her scope of knowledge. With her eyes shut off from the rest of the world, she could almost imagine that they were truly in a car, moving away from the troubles of the past, finally able to catch up with the feelings that were threatening to overtake them.
It was at this moment that the line between Phoebe Clarke and Lily Evans was almost blurred, because with feelings this strong towards this man in front of her— his hair so unruly that any hurricane would have been envious of the unknown force able to sweep it in every single direction— there seemed to be nothing important to be thinking of but him. Rationality was at its full force in her brain, but it had decided to give them time to fully absorb the other into their system.
And then, everything began progressing rapidly.
He pressed harder against her lips, inciting the already-thumping motions of her heart to a speed faster than any train could have gone, and his hands suddenly grasped her own, squeezing them tightly before flying back up to her face. It was as he was intentionally trying to wring her heart, flush out every affection of hers out, just to replace any that was lost with his own to fill her up once again.
He pushed against her, and the manner in which he was using every trick that she’d never been acquainted with using every part of his lips, mouth, tongue, was more than enough to induce sounds of bliss from her lips. Her sounds spurred him on, and he used more force against her, as if it pained him to not be as close as he possibly could be with her.
She felt her head thud softly against the cool leather of the seat, and her lips curved upwards against his own, like a mirror trying to keep pace with what was being reflected. He pulled off of her, as slow as they’d started out, and in the moments when she opened her eyes, green meeting gold, was the moment that she’d realised that she’d been Phoebe Clarke the entire time.
It didn’t matter how fast her heart was beating, or how hard it was for her to regain her breath, because Lily Evans wasn’t kissing James Potter.
Nothing should have mattered though, because his lips came crashing down on hers once again. It was lovely and wonderful and all things beautiful and—
“Cut!” McGonagall yelled out, and she suddenly felt cold when his body was completely off of her. The set seemed ten times brighter now that she’d opened her eyes, and she absolutely hated how her eyes immediately began to search for him. She was a professional. She shouldn’t feel disappointed that the kiss had ended. She shouldn’t feel disappointed that her first kiss with James Potter had been one orchestrated for the sole sake of a production.
And yet… there she was, feeling something that she shouldn’t have felt.
A kiss so mind-boggling amazing wasn’t real; it couldn’t be real if emotions from both parties weren’t put into it.
McGonagall had gone on about how the kiss was exactly what she’d intended it to be and how it was a wrap for the entire filming process. She didn’t want it to come to an end, not when she’d just befriended James.
“Lily,” he suddenly said behind her, and she turned around, seeing a bit of her lipstick smeared on the corner of his lip, “You all right?”
She composed herself, nodding. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t be.”
He shrugged lightly, offering his water to her. “It’s just that everyone’s celebrating about filming finally being over with, and you’re standing there looking like you’ve just watched someone kick over a puppy on the streets.”
She tentatively took the water from his hands, bringing it to her lips and letting a small bit of it into her mouth before holding it back out to him. “It happens a lot to me. I just— It’s a little upsetting that all of the fun shooting has come to an end now. You’ve got lipstick on your lip, by the way.”
He gave her a grin, and her heart fluttered at the sight. “I reckon it means someone did a fantastic job then, yeah?” He wiped on the wrong side of his lip, and she shook her head at him, reaching up to wipe it off herself. He looked at her with softened eyes. “There’s something else you’re intentionally leaving out.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied, “I feel great. Absolutely great.”
His eyes flashed towards the production team, all of whom having taken to clean up the set, with a bit more enthusiasm in their movements now that everything was finally filmed and over with. His eyes returned back to her. “Then, do you want to talk about not knowing what I’m talking about over dinner?”
Her eyes widened, and she was much more aware of just how quickly her heart was beating, as if he hadn’t kissed her the way that all women attracted to men have always dreamed of being kissed. “James—”
“Lunch, then, if you prefer that option more?” He looked hopefully at her. “Only I’ve really enjoyed the time we spent together, and I kind of sort of really wanted to take out any fake aspect in our relationship and make it real.”
“You’re asking me out,” she stated, “Are you—“
“Serious? Sure? Out of my mind?” he finished for her, grinning as he referenced back to that one instance. She shook off any surprise that she felt, letting herself smile up at him. “I don’t see why we can’t do both.”
His lips curved upwards. “Then, both?”
“Are you asking me out on a date— dates, I mean?”
“If we’re turning it back on me, then yes, actually. I can’t imagine us having the best kiss I’ve ever had in my bloody life and not going out to celebrate it.”
His smile broadened. “I can’t imagine that the day where the ‘fake’ aspect of our relationship is finally going to maybe change is today.”
She felt herself mirroring the curve of his lips, and she took his hand gently in hers. “You should start believing, then.” Her eyes returned back to the production team. “Only after we help clean up, though. I can’t bear to just leave them to clean up all of our dirty work.”
“You make it sound like we’ve just killed someone.”
“We haven’t. Agents Clarke and Bell, on the other hand…”
He made an ostentatious show of disbelief at their characters. “Their audacity. Bloody spies, and they can’t even bother to clean up after themselves.”
“I wouldn’t put it against them if they haven’t ever had a day to ever catch a break to clean.”
“What about when they get domestic and have little children running around the house?”
“That’s bold of you to ever assume that they’d ever step down from their positions to have children.”
“You’re right. They’ll be eighty years old and still be kicking bad guy arse.”
Her smiled had widened so much to the point that it physically hurt to keep it on her face. “Lily and James, however, will be over here helping the staff clean up.”
He grinned. “James Potter and Lily Evans, helping people. Acting. Dating, maybe. I can’t think of anything even remotely better. Besides just the ‘Lily’ bit, obviously. That’s always the best part. You’re always the best part.”
She felt her heart flying off into the clouds at his words.
+++
There were about a million exciting things that were to come from this night, but the million camera flashes coming in her immediate direction were absolutely not one of them.
She’d been doing it for years, slipping into a routine of changing into a lovely dress and letting Mary do whatever it was that she liked on her face, and yet, all those years of practiced still hadn’t fully braced her for the many shutter clicks ringing in her ears. James, unsurprisingly, had managed to distract her from the blinding lights, and rather than looking professional and cool in his suit— which made him at least a billion times more gorgeous than usual— he’d taken to making funny faces at the cameras.
In all of the photos that were to come out, she was sure that her smiles would be the most genuine ones any camera had been lucky enough to capture in all of her lifetime.
It wasn’t surprising either when they were asked to take photos together, not because they were dating— which was a popular rumour that they’d yet to confirm or deny— but because of their film together. Well, maybe because of the dating rumours, but either way, what did it matter? There was absolutely nothing wrong with taking photos together.
Besides, it wasn’t as if she was opposed to any public display of affection, not when they, according to many articles and the general consensus of the Internet, had shared the hottest, most passionate kiss that the film industry had ever had the privilege of witnessing.
That kiss, in hindsight, was perhaps one of the tamest that they’d shared together, especially when the public wasn’t there to witness it in the privacy of their own homes.
She cherished privacy, but other times, she wanted so desperately to shout to the world that she, Lily Evans, was dating James Potter. She wanted to hold his hand in public, to go on real dates without assuming some terrible disguise to hide from the general public, but she supposed that for now, she would take any time spent with him over nothing.
The theatre was dark, and had it not been for the many cameras set up to film the program, she would have risked it to hold his hand. It was fine, though, because she’d held it enough times to know what exactly it felt like, rough and warm and fitting perfectly against her own, and so she intertwined her own hands together in a poor attempt to pretend that they were holding hands with one another.
He leaned in to her, though not close enough to attract attention from any outsider. “You look absolutely stunning, if you didn’t know.”
Her lips drew upwards in response. “If I’m stunning, then what are you?”
“Somewhere in that same range,” he grinned, adding, “I didn’t even know it was possible for you to get even more stunning than usual, but you always manage to prove me wrong.”
She felt her cheeks reddening, and she was ever-so-grateful for Mary’s insane talents when it came to a brush, not exactly wanting the cameras to catch it, especially when it wouldn’t take long for people to realise who was causing her to blush. “You’re exaggerating it.”
“Nah. Come on, I mean, you make number one on my list for Most Attractive— personality and looks-wise— Woman every year.”
“I hate to say it, but looks are rather subjective, wouldn’t you say?”
“When you say subjective, do you mean you’re always the main subject of all of my daydreams?”
She didn’t know whether to roll her eyes or blush or laugh or or kiss him or whatever, and finally decided to say, “That’s far too counterproductive of you to for it to be true.”
“You’re underestimating the time I take out of my day just thinking about your utter brilliance.”
She rolled her shoulders easily. “I’d be overestimating, if anything. And Hollywood makes it so that apparently me thinking too highly of myself justifies the hate I get, even though the same platform preaches that confidence is supposed to go a long way.”
“The fact that people hate you. I just— It’s so bloody inconceivable to me. Lily Evans, an Academy Award winner, the nation’s sweetheart, my girlfriend—” He grinned lightly at the last bit, and the sweet little dimple on his face came out to greet her. “ — Is the target of bloody misogynistic comments and jealousy-fueled comments, and I just don’t bloody understand.”
“It’s not as if the entire world hates me,” she said, smiling at how quick he was to taking her side on these situations, “We wouldn’t have been nominated for this award show if they did, even though I’d really like to think that they consider our talents over anything else.”
“Nah, the entire world bloody fancies the pants off of you.”’
“You’re being too generous again.”
“Nope.”
She eyed him with suspicion, and she bit back a laugh. “You’re calling yourself the world?”
“If you say he,” he chirped, “But, if to get technical, I’m your world.”
“I hope that, as my world, you’ve no ounce of pollution in your body.”
“‘Course not,” he said back, “You treat me with the utmost respect, and I provide you with all of the resources that you need. It’s a win-win situation. Shit, that sounds a bit dirty.”
“It sounds dirty now because you pointed it out.”
“Oi, stop polluting the world with this dirt,” he chastised her, and she rolled her eyes. He had an easy-going grin on his face, and he leaned back in his seat, “You ready to receive all the awards?”
“I’m ready to clap for whoever wins,” she corrected him, “I’m not trying to set myself up for disappointment.”
“And has the talented Lily Evans ever been disappointed by not winning an award before?”
“Many times, actually. You’d be surprised.”
“I’d say you don’t have to worry about disappointment tonight.”
Her eyes drew upwards slightly. “Is that innuendo?”
“Do you want it to be innuendo?”
Whether she wanted it to be innuendo or not, she didn’t get to answer, because suddenly, the screen containing a poster that announced the awards resting in the middle of the stage moved upwards out of view, and a woman’s voice boomed through the air.
Needless to say, the awards show had started.
They’d whizzed through a wide assortment of categories, a bunch of lovely performances, and she’d clapped loudly alongside James with each new presence on stage. It was thrilling to see as others got to see that their dreams of fame had taken life, that they’d gone so far in life and had made it. She revelled in celebrating with them, because every single person who had been nominated deserved their spots in fame.
James hadn’t failed in making her laugh the entire time, and that small little gesture did not go unnoticed by the camera, which seemed to function solely for recording their interactions more than it did with the actual awards. It wasn’t as if they were exactly being secretive about their relationship, and though no concrete evidence really existed of them dating— unless one counted the fake dates that they’d been on that the public had seen— the world seemed to have great talent in connecting the little things to a much bigger picture.
The awards ceremony wasn’t just a place to win and be disappointed, no matter the conversation that she’d had with James— it was a place to feel happy for others. This thought didn’t even come from the side of her that sensed that they weren’t going to win the award that they’d been nominated for. It was all of her that truly, genuinely was happy for everyone else.
And if she got to spend this time with James, then it didn’t at all matter that the award for the best leading roles of a film weren’t going to—
“James Potter and Lily Evans!”
She blinked.
Perhaps she’d misheard—
No. She hadn’t misheard, because the noise all around her was thunderous, booming as if they were fireworks celebrating a new year, and James was far beyond shocked, his eyes widened in incredulity, and her legs seemed to get up on their own, and the next thing that she knew was that she was being swept up in a hug by him, which only spurred the crowds to scream louder. She couldn’t even savour the feel of him against her, because he’d suddenly pulled off of her, saying softly, “Let’s get that award, yeah?”
She nodded, smiling, not able to say a word because she was still so shocked by the announcement, as if she hadn’t won awards this grande before, and he walked behind her, holding her trailing dress to keep her from tripping on its length with national television as a witness. Her heartbeat elevated, because he was just so bloody sweet that it should have been illegal.
The man, an old and retired actor, who was perhaps known more for his eccentricity than his actual skills— this in itself said a lot about him, as he’d received more than enough awards to last him a lifetime of assurance in his abilities as an actor— smiled kindly at her, and she accepted the award from his hands. It was far too difficult to do anything but smile— smile so hard that her cheeks threatened to burst because she was just so jovial about it all.
James had caught up to her at that time, and she’d thought that he was merely going to escort the two of them to the podium, but her heart jumped at least ten miles when his lips crashed down upon hers.
The kiss itself was short, but the small seconds that his lips were upon hers seemed to last forever, and he manner in which he was cupping her chin was enough to make her heart cry out with joy. There was far too much smiling involved on both of their parts, and the roars from the crowd seemed to grow exponentially at the action, but this was James.
James, James, James.
And just when she’d thought that this night couldn’t have possibly been better, he’d out and proved her wrong.
When he pulled away, a goofy grin on his face, she was definitely smiling much harder than she’d been doing before. He took her hand in his, and she suddenly found herself standing in front of the podium with him, staring back at who knows how many people were in the crowds, definitely excited by a long-suspected couple finally confirming their relationship.
James adjusted the mic. “If you couldn’t tell, I’m right pleased that we won. Like, immensely, so thank you all for that.” He raised their intertwined hands up. “Most people tell their crushes that they fancy them, but the first thing I did was punch a bloke in the face. Clearly, I haven’t been transparent about my feelings for the longest time.”
She took over this time, not wanting him to continue lest she break all her self-control to kiss the daylights out of him. “We’ve been working the absolute hardest on this movie, and I’m eternally grateful that our all was enough for this award. Everyone who was nominated absolutely deserved this, and to be the ones to be getting it makes me beyond thrilled. It’s been a wonderful night tonight. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Times a million,” James added, leaning into the microphone, “Because ‘Ditto’ obviously isn’t an appropriate thing to put in an acceptance speech.”
The audience laughed, and he made an ostentatious show of blowing an air kiss to the camera before pressing another kiss on her cheek.
Perhaps— no, most definitely— she did love him, her James, and it didn’t matter anymore how many times any costar of hers had said it to her because it was in the script.
It would be very soon when the words fell from her lips, told in the most genuine fashion that such a three-lettered phrase could ever be said.
She didn’t need a script to tell him that she loved him.
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guess who’s back at it again with another (angsty) soulmate au lol
Summary: Loving Lily Evans was as natural as the freckles on her skin, and yet, disappointment seemed to strike at the most inopportune times.
validate me on ao3 or ffn
part 1/3
(i swear it has a happy ending)
As a child, James had always thought it ridiculous that having a particular identification mark deemed that a person was to be completely and perfectly compatible with whoever it was that they shared the unique speck with.
How in the absolute world could a mark determine a person’s soulmate?
A mark shouldn’t be given the power to make or break a relationship, as he’d reasoned out at the ripe age of eleven years old, where he thought he’d accumulated all the vast knowledge and wisdom that the world had to offer him. He’d gone on to support his point with the fact that the parents of his best mate Sirius— who was nowhere near as serious as his name— had thought that they were meant to be, yet all they could ever express towards each other was contempt and pure hatred.
‘Soulmates’ were supposed to be in love, not in hate. It was obvious that they’d misidentified their marks to be more than they actually were.
He’d done his research, and he’d learned that freckles— just one of the kinds of marks that made a soulmate— became triggered from exposure to sunlight. It meant that there was a scientific reasoning behind all of it, he’d thought, and not because of some obviously utterly-made up crap that was found in practically every single fairy tale that was told to nearly every child in an effort to get their hopes up, only for them to end up getting crushed by reality.
Besides, his prepubescent self never had any reason to believe in the concept of soulmates, especially when such an idea became an object of ridicule in the eyes of many of his pupils at the time, who had, for example, taken advantage of the opportunity to draw matching freckles on themselves and jokingly call the other their soulmate. He’d be an absolute liar if he said that he never partook in such a thing, having done so on few occasions with Sirius. They’d done quite a convincing job at that as well, and he wouldn’t be surprised if people still thought that he was involved in a relationship with his best mate, who he held absolutely no romantic feelings towards.
Soulmates couldn’t be real. They couldn’t be.
Naturally, James had eventually come to learning the location of each and every one of his four little marks that he’d prided himself on having.
It made him sound a bit like a hypocrite, but he swore he’d done it just to be ironic more than anything else, because he surely hadn’t believed that the universe cared enough to make two people perfect enough to fit in the other’s mold, just as puzzles were supposed to click together. To him, it had seemed that the universe spewed out people at random, as if someone had deliberately mixed together puzzle pieces from completely different sets. It should be impossible for two pieces to fit, not unless one forced them to fit.
He was not forcing any relationships to come about.
He wanted them to happen smoothly, like a boat drifting atop a gentle lake.
According to scientific evidence, the physical signs of seeing a person didn’t at all account for whether or not they were one’s soulmate, because a erratic heart or sweaty hands were only signs for wanting them to be a soulmate. It was still completely possible to fall for someone who wasn’t one’s soulmate.
It just seemed impossible to have a lasting relationship with someone who wasn’t your soulmate. No, it was impossible, as official statistics have proven, no matter how much effort two people put into keeping their relationship intact.
Also— also— he found it absolutely unfathomable how a relationship could work simply from realising that the other party had a matching freckle. An “Oh look, we’ve both got a freckle located exactly four and a half centimetres below our wrists and two and three-quarters of a centimetre to the left. We must be soulmates because that’s how the bloody system works, apparently” was far too impractical to determine whether or not one should spend an entire lifetime with someone else. What ever happened to just finding someone with matching interests and knowing what was best for the other?
It sounds nearly impossible that in a world defined by overpopulation, making it so that among the sea of people walking the earth, there was only` one person who shared one particular little freckle with you.
It had to be impossible.
His younger version of himself had to be all-knowing and wise in this sort of stuff, these matters that he as a kid had no experience with.
Now though…
Well, he’d like a soulmate right about now, if that wasn’t too much, please and thank you.
Upon entering his teen years, when he’d somehow come to recognising the appeal of falling in love with someone else, he’d begun to fall in love with the idea of love itself, and this in turn reversed the previous notions that he’d held against the concept of soulmates. Failed relationship after failed relationship, he’d learned that perhaps it wasn’t too far-fetched that there would be one person who was made for loving every single inch of him. A relationship only had to work once, didn’t it?
He’d come into a good— a loosely-used term here— amount of girls who’d taken a fancy to him, only to be struck with disappointment when they learned that they didn’t share any of their freckles with him, and it made him feel a bit irritated at the fact that they’d checked compatibilities with a tiny little speck of dark brown on his skin. It was nearly as bad as depending solely on zodiac signs to be with someone.
It wasn’t as if he had been running about desperately seeking the one person who matched him, and in theory, it didn’t seem that hard, especially when there were four places that the mark could have been in, and especially when he’d thought he’d already found his soulmate. He must have found his soulmate, because there was quite literally no other word that matched up to describing the likes of Lily Evans, who had unexpectedly come into his life, dropping a seed into the depths of his heart and letting a bright red rose bloom within.
Lily Evans.
Everything about her was lovely.
read the rest of the chapter (if you want) on ao3 or ffn !!!!!
Summary: When Lily Evans is assigned to be a stranger's Secret Santa, she has no idea that by the end of the night, she was the gift that James Potter had wanted the entire time.
give me some love on ao3 or ffn
okay hi merry christmas!!! sorry this fic may sound a bit rushed, but i really wanted to finish this by christmas and i did it? i hope you all enjoy xxx
There were, as Lily speculated, many feelings that people felt when it came to the topic of Christmastime, a time in which everyone showed their love towards friends and family through the gifting and receiving of presents that consequently caused them to end up with so little money that would bring Santa to tears.
Feelings of mirth and joy were expected on the holiday that foresaw snow, but frustration? She didn’t expect any of that days before Christmas.
It wasn’t that Lily hated watching her bank account come to a horrible decline during this season, because the one thing that she absolutely loved more than receiving gifts was buying them. She revelled in watching the eyes of such gift recipients, especially when they lit up like a Christmas tree, and it made her money deficit well worth it.
With Mary, who was known for her embodiment of the concept ‘the more the merrier,’ it was easy to find a gift for her, whether it was one based on sentimentality or one where the price tag had been taken off of it, Mary accepted anything and everything, so long as it wasn’t unattractive in design and form. With Petunia, who was one for the traditional gifts, it wasn’t difficult to find an expensive vase from online that appealed to those who prided themselves in outdoing every single one of their neighbours. She bought an expensive watch for Petunia’s husband, because it seemed like a good gift simply because of the price. Whether he decided to sell it or keep it was honestly up to him, though she hoped very well that it wouldn’t end up rotting in one of his sock drawers.
Now, shopping for a stranger was something entirely on its own.
She’d no idea what Remus had been thinking to invite her to a party where she knew only one person and was even more confused when everyone was assigned a person at random to bring a gift to. From the conversations in the group chat that she had been added to, she could tell that everyone else knew one another well enough, if one could conclude from the jabs that ‘Prongs’ and ‘Padfoot’ continuously sent towards one another.
Eventually, that chat was put on mute, and she’d told Remus— as well as Sirius Black, who was apparently the host of the party— to inform her of any updates about the party. Asking the latter, it seemed, had turned out to be a poor decision on her part, because it seemed as if his sole intent on living was to pester her to the point that she often found her finger hovering over the ‘block contact’ button, only to stop since he unfortunately was the host. There was also the fact that clicking such a simple button was probably exactly what he wanted, and she was definitely not going to let this stranger win.
The last thing that she wanted was to show up in front of his house and be greeted with an infuriatingly cocky on his face.
On the other hand, the first thing that she wanted now at this very moment was to know what exactly to get whoever this ‘James Potter’ person wanted for a gift, but asking Constellation Boy only resulted in responses such as “He wants you for Christmas” with an absurd amount of winking faces.
If she was to browse the Internet in search of gifts to give to strangers, what if there was the chance that he was also her Secret Santa and was on that very same website?
No, she was going to put her utmost creativity into this gift, whatever it may be.
The only question was how she was going to do that.
She couldn’t exactly throw some sentimental value into it, not when there was no sentimental value to be thrown in the first place, but she didn’t want to at all give him something cheaply overdone, like an expensive bottle of perfume or wine. There were rules about gifts, and there was unanimous agreement that one should never get a person such items for Christmas— that is, unless their name was Vernon Dursley.
It was in these moments that she’d taken advantage of the annoying group chat— currently named “Jingle My Balls,” and she could bet all the toys in the world on who had decided to name it that— to scour for any valuable information that could give her an idea of what James Potter had an interest in.
Deer, it seemed.
Lots and lots and lots of deer.
She couldn’t understand his obvious fixation for deer and its venison counterparts, but she sincerely hoped that Remus wasn’t acquainted with someone who prided himself in the slaughtering of deer just for the fun of it. It could help to explain his ridiculous nickname, and she’d almost roped herself into believing that Remus Lupin was the only sane one in their friend group, only to learn that he had been named for a reason that could only be related to the act of mooning.
If she were to get James some sort of food for Christmas, it surely was not going to be of the venison sort.
Perhaps she’d bake cookies for him and call it a day, but they didn’t last forever, not unless he decided to preserve it for reasons unbeknownst to her, and she wanted to create a lasting first impression on him.
James Potter, what in the world could you want?
Could he be interested in pottery, if one could go by his last name?
Obviously, she wasn’t going to put minimal effort into his gift, and he obviously was far from a Petunia, so a ceramic vase— no matter how expensive it was— was just not going to make do. There was nothing wrong with homemade items, and she’d actually greatly prefer homemade objects over the store-bought pieces.
Perhaps…?
Hopefully, he’d love what she had planned for him.
The final obstacle remaining was that she’d never in her life taken a pottery class.
+++
There was a difference between going all out and doing exactly what it was that this household had seemed to do when it came for Christmas decorations.
Lily liked to think that she fell in the former category, having decorated nearly every inch of her flat with pretty fairy lights and a giant Christmas tree in the corner of every room, and even the bathroom contained a small Christmas tree resting atop the counter. Tinsel lined the tops of the mock fireplace in their living room, and in every part of the flat, there was some Christmas decoration of some sort.
But this house— mansion?
It was on a completely different spectrum of its own.
The front lawn seemed as if it had taken everything that could be seen in the Christmas outdoor section featured at every store, and in places where snow hadn’t fallen, fake snow was used to create the illusion that the place was a magical castle in a kingdom where winter was eternal. There were, of course, a line of deer made entirely out of lights lining up the pathway, and at the very end stood a dog made of lights and a pair of antlers atop the animal.
If she had any doubts about whether or not she’d come to the right place, then these doubts were put at ease.
“This is the place,” she said to Mary, though it came out more as a question rather than anything else.
“The one and only.”
“Are you sure we aren’t— I don’t know— planning a heist? Following the plot of the Bling Ring?”
“Maybe next time,” Mary said nonchalantly, “But I don’t see why you should when you’re being offered free food here. Remember, stay safe, and please bring me a plate of whatever food they have there.”
With one last look, Mary gave her a reassuring beam as she bent down to begin her search party, as her phone had fallen off of the dashboard and slid off to who knows where. It ultimately meant that she was going to dawdle in the car for an unreasonable amount of time because she didn’t want to step out into the cold so quickly, as it was just characteristic of Mary to do stay in her comfort zone for as long as she deemed possible. It was for that reason that Lily decided to knock at the door before the frosty air could hold her captive as well.
The door thankfully opened quickly, and amidst the sweet smell of cookies and all the positivity that embodied Christmas, she caught sight of, well, reindeer. It wasn’t off-putting that it was reindeer. It was off-putting that it was reindeer. Atop each other.
She wasn’t being subjected to real-live reindeer, of course, as they were graphics that appeared on the sweater of some bloke bold enough to wear it to the party. If the sweater hadn’t had the reindeer engaged in such an illicit act, it probably could have been a lovely sweater.
They could have matched, actually, because she was wearing a sweater similar to his, the only main difference being the fact that her deer were nowhere near one another, and hers was mainly black while his was mainly blue.
She felt her eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the sight, and she blinked twice. “You must be James.”
She’d finally managed to tear her eyes away from the deer to look up at him, and she’d nearly fallen onto her knees at the fact that he was so attractive to the point that he absolutely had to know how attractive he was. It didn’t help that there was a pair of antlers atop his head, and they only served to draw attention to his messy hair, hair wild enough to make her thoughts wander off into territory that they shouldn’t have stumbled upon in the first place.
And then her gaze flickered right back to his sweater, where the reindeer seemed to be mocking her.
It was only then that he’d been able to somewhat redeem himself when he opened his mouth, and how how how could a voice be equally as attractive as his physique?
“Yeah? What gave it away?”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve got reindeer fucking on your sweater.”
He let out an embarrassed laugh, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his cheeks pinked at her observation. He let out a soft sigh. “I can’t believe the prettiest person I’ve ever seen in my life knows me as the bloke who wears sweaters with graphics of reindeer procreation. I swear I’m being forced to wear this right now.”
Her shoulders sagged in relief. “I was beginning to feel concern for you, a stranger. I still do feel concern, actually. I assume it was Sirius who put you up for that?”
He nodded grimly. “We made a bet. Signed a contract to wear it if I lose and everything.”
“I’m so sorry that he’s disgraced deer like that. No one should ever involuntarily wear clothing that display any form of animal procreation.”
Her words seemed to have some sort of a strong effect on him, and he began smiling so wide that she could make out a dimple growing on the left side of his face. He opened his mouth to respond, when a piercing voice rang through the air, as if the evil form of Father Christmas had awaken to fill all of their stockings with coal.
“Close the fucking door, you fucking—” There was, of course, only one person whose voice that could have belonged to, and her eyes met grey, comprehension growing in his eyes as he realised who she was. “Fuck. Close the door. I’ll be right back.”
“Sirius,” she said simply.
“Unfortunately,” he replied, and he looked out towards the car, “Is your friend coming in?”
Lily regarded his question with little interest and shook her head. “She’s just dropping me off.”
He nodded in acknowledgement. “You’re Lily, right?”
“Unless you were expecting the actual flower, that would be me.”
“I’d say you came to please, then. You’re just as pretty as one.”
She didn’t know what to say in response, because it wasn’t as if she was unconfident in her looks, but it was the mere fact that he’d managed to flirt with her twice in the span of a few minutes. “You can definitely do much bet—”
She was cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps once again, and Sirius returned with something green in his hand. She already knew what it was without even having to get a close look of it, if the deep sighs coming from James were of any indication.
“Padfoot, I swear if you bloody hang that over our heads—”
“That’s quite presumptuous of you to think that I’m trying to incite non-consensual kissing between strangers.”
“Then explain why you’ve got mistletoe in your hand.”
Sirius hung it over his own head. “I’m doing everyone a favour by giving all of you permission to kiss me, the one and only Sirius Black. This is a one-time offer, so I’d say you should take advantage of this opportunity.”
Lily concealed any feeling of disgust that he’d stirred up from his horrible offer, because she came to this party with absolutely no intention of kissing anybody, let alone Sirius, who she honestly thought couldn’t possibly be a horrible person and that his way of texting merely gave off strange vibes. Perhaps he wasn’t a terrible person in the sense that he was decent enough for Remus to befriend, but, as she’d already known long before, looks gave no clue of how a person was on the inside.
“Right, so where do I place this down?” she asked instead, holding up her present that she’d wrapped carefully.
“Don’t know about the box, but you could place yourself down on James’s—”
“Beneath the Christmas tree should be fine,” James had cut in, and he placed tentative fingers on her shoulders, to which she felt warmth spreading throughout her body, “Here, I’ll show you where it is.”
“It’s right there—” she began, but upon realising that he was helping to whisk her away from Sirius, who looked as if the being who he’d successfully been able to bag was Death itself— what with his pale skin and body covered head-to-toe in all black, save the small bit of his red shirt peeking out from beneath his leather jacket— she stopped herself. “Thank you.”
“It’s no problem.”
It was a problem, actually, because she thought she’d resolved every single one of her worries when she’d finally finished making his gift for him, but she’d been far too busy dwelling on making it so that he would enjoy his present that she hadn’t even stopped for a moment to consider that he might actually fall under the category of men that seemed to make her heart do backflips. And when Sirius was unsubtly running around with mistletoe in his hands, it was obvious that both her and James were to be subjected to uncomfortability, similar to the way people wanted celebrities to date one another on the basis that they were both attractive people.
She didn’t speak her thoughts, instead choosing to plaster a smile on her face, which in all honestly wasn’t at all difficult to do, not when the interior of the place was just as festive as it was outside. The tree stood taller than any tree that she could have ever put up at her flat, and it must have taken a painstaken amount of time to decorate all of it. At closer inspection, she noticed the tree had a good number of ornaments containing images of who she assumed were either James or Sirius at different stages of life making funny faces at the camera.
“Don’t judge,” he said from behind her.
“Oh, I can assure you that I’ve expected no form of normality in this household since you’ve opened the door.”
He grinned at her. “Yeah? Have my expectations been up to par, then?”
“Somewhere up there,” she allowed, “Though, I don’t think there’s too much pride you can have in how stranger perceives you, especially when it’s on the low end of the metre.”
“I take immense pride in that, for your information. I’m taking it as a good sign, since you’ve yet to pelt an ornament at me.”
“I’d say you’re going to only have good signs, then. I, contrary to popular belief, do not pelt ornaments at people.”
“I’d pelt an ornament at any idiot who would believe you more than willing to do such a thing.”
She couldn’t help the laughter bubbling from her lips at his words, and it seemed that he took great pride in getting a laugh from her, because her actions had spurred him on to smile just as widely. Somehow, he’d managed to find a way to be such a dork while still simultaneously coming off as charming.
The ring at the doorbell snapped them out of it, and he flashed her an apologetic smile. “Duty calls— rings? Dunno which word is more fitting, but I’ll have to go greet the other guests. I’ll see you later, yeah?”
“I’ll remember to not pelt any ornaments during the wait,” she smiled, and it only served to make his dimple greet her once again as he grinned.
“I knew you’d understand.”
With that, he left her to her own devices. Someone— most likely Sirius— had begun blaring Mariah Carey, the spirit of all things concerning Christmas, and if that didn’t add to the strangeness of it all, she didn’t know what did.
She placed the gift down carefully beside a red gift bag decorated with white snowflakes, and it was quite possibly the most normal sight she’d seen in the house so far— perhaps the only normal sight she’d be seeing for the night.
It was, most definitely, going to be a long night.
+++
For a place that could have possibly housed an entire army, there weren’t as many people as Lily had thought would show up.
There were so much more than she could have expected.
She’d thought that they’d only invited their inner circle of friends if she were to judge from the small number of people in the group chat, and so it would be a complete understatement if Lily said that she thought that she’d feel completely out of place in a room where inside-jokes populated the conversations. It seemed that James, who was the owner of this house— or at least one of the owners, seeing as his parents had been away on a business trip and wouldn’t return until the week of Christmas— was just as surprised as she was by the amount of people showing up.
It seemed that somebody had decided to pass on the message that anybody who learned about the details of the party was invited, and at one point, James literally had to lock the door so as to keep people out, but when Sirius had brought up the point that people could easily climb in through the windows and over the fences, his efforts were rendered futile.
It would be an absolute miracle if the neighbours didn’t call the cops on them.
Sirius, once one got over his many bouts of inappropriate behaviour, was actually a somewhat hilarious person who, in a way, seemed to understand her. It wasn’t her fault that her eyes kept wandering over to James, who’d taken to putting a pillow right over his chest so that he could cover up the cursed image of the reindeer, because she still couldn’t fully fathom how a person could be so attractive without doing anything even remotely interesting, and it definitely wasn’t her fault that Sirius was ribbing her for it.
Sure, Sirius was the conventional type of attractive, but when someone like James was there, Sirius was merely a rock and James a diamond.
It didn’t help that everyone— save for James— was painfully aware of her staring. She felt shame welling up inside of her, because she knew all too well that there was so much more in a person than their appearance, and she herself hated when people merely saw her as nothing more than how she looked. Now, though, she was doing the exact same thing she was entirely against, only, it was with James.
She didn’t even know him that well, and as much as she’d like to say that she’d spent the majority of her time conversing with him, she knew that would be an absolute lie, as she had barely talked to him since she’d greeted him at the door. She’d caught glimpses of his personality through the texts that he sent to the group chat, and she’d be an absolute liar if she wasn’t at all intrigued by his mannerism and himself as a whole.
She wanted to learn more about him, learn about his strange fixation with deer, learn everything there was to know about him, like if he was really the type of man her parents would have liked to see her walking down the aisle with: the type of man who made her completely and utterly happy.
Sirius leaned over to her, because of course she would be the one to end up sitting beside him, even if for just a short period of time. Of course he would, yet again, pick up on her stares. “You can’t fuck if you don’t talk to each other first.”
“I’d say in some extreme cases, that would be a complete lie.”
“I’m prone to agree, but since that idiot has only had unsuccessful dates this entire year, I’m obligated to step up. You’d make his entire bloody new year.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t exist for the sole purpose of making one single person happy.”
“Of course not, but we all know how you’ve been fucking James with your eyes, so spare yourself of wasted time and sit on his lap. He wouldn’t protest.”
“I’d protest,” she replied scathingly, “And he’s talking to his line of admirers.”
‘Talking’ was a word being used loosely here, because he seemed to be the only person speaking, having gone on about a story about himself from when he was younger. It seemed that he’d been engaged in a conversation with Remus earlier, but after the first three women came from nowhere, Remus had left him alone with them, and so he’d been forced to conversate with them, unless he fancied being found in a ditch the following day. She could already sense his discomfort from just the way his smile seemed permanently glued on to his face.
“To cut the conversation short,” Sirius began, feeling no sense of empathy for his mate, “You’re holding back.”
“I didn’t come here for you to play matchmaker.”
“But little do you know,” Sirius sighed.
“Pardon?”
“What?” Sirius asked, “You’re forgiven.”
“I’ve absolutely no reason to apologise—”
“There’s always a reason to apologise. For one thing, you’re stealing me away from the other guests. Everyone needs an equal share of Sirius Black—”
She blanched. “Right, well, that’s already enough incentive to walk away from you right about now.”
“That’s the spirit,” he replied, “Repulsion is the first step to a blossoming friendship. Let me be best man, if that isn’t too much to ask.”
“You didn’t even ask.”
“You didn’t offer. I’ve got to take matters into my own hands.”
She scoffed lightly at him. “It was nice meeting you formally, Sirius.”
“Not sure if that’s sarcasm or if you’re being genuine, but either way, I’ll take it as a compliment.”
She had to hand it to him; she wasn’t sure just exactly what he was capable of, but if Sirius Black was ever handed the opportunity to take over the world, he’d turn down that chance just to find his own means of world domination.
She watched as he walked over to the group with James, said a few magical words, and the next thing that she knew, Sirius had taken the women off of James’s hands as if they were moths and he was a flame.
What she hadn’t expected, however, was to see Sirius pushing James directly towards her, and it seemed as if he was a reindeer soaring through the sky, but the metaphor suddenly seemed unsuiting when she found him crashing right into her.
Or, nearly crashing, and she could already feel how awkward it would have been if he’d fallen atop of her, what with their bodies right up against one another and his face merely centimetres away from hers.
In reality, though, Sirius’s pushing was merely a light shove, because his arms just weren’t strong enough to move somebody across the room and acted only as encouragement more than anything else.
“Hello, hi,” James said, and he sent a glare towards Sirius, “We meet again. Your reindeer are still living in solitude, I see.”
She couldn’t help the smile growing on her face. “I see yours are still going at it. Do they ever stop?”
“Right? It’s quite rude to all the guests around here. They need to find their own time and place to make love.”
She nodded. “They are domestic animals. I expected much more from them. Do you want to go somewhere more quiet? Mariah’s gotten a bit annoying after the first five rounds of All I Want For Christmas Is You.”
“Sure, as long as it’s not for the purposes of love-making. I’d like to at least take you out on a date first.”
“Then, to your room?”
“If you insist,” he joked, and she felt her lips curling upwards once again.
+++
“Why the fixation with deer?” was the very first thing that she’d asked once they’d entered his room. She’d noticed that his devotion to Christmas only seemed to continue on behind the privacy of his door, as even the bedsheets had been changed to mimic Christmas. There was, of course, a Christmas tree in the corner of his room, and rather than the small ones that some people put, the tree was of average size. Beneath the tree were the gifts that were brought for the Secret Santa ceremony, which James had relocated in case any of the uninvited guests had decided that it would be a good idea to snatch them.
She made herself comfortable on his bed, patting the space beside her to motion for him to sit down, that she wouldn’t falsely made accusations at him if he got too close to her. He chuckled at her question. “Its antlers look like a crown, and we both know that I am the most majesty being in the world.”
She fought the urge to roll her eyes at him, because though she hadn’t known him for that long, seemed like such a him thing to say. “A real answer, please.”
“You’d laugh.”
“Only if it’s funny.”
She watched his lips rise at the corners. “I took a quiz about what my spirit animal would be, and I got a stag. That’s what made my interest stagnant, I’d say.”
She unceremoniously let out a huff of air. “You made that pun on purpose.”
“Ah, don’t tell me you don’t have an appreciation for puns.”
“I have an appreciation for the funny ones.”
“I’m actually so offended right now. I’m not funny?”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that you’re funny. Your puns are the ones that need some work.”
“It was hilarious.”
“For you perhaps, but since you base your pride on the beliefs of strangers, your opinions don’t seem to matter in this scenario.”
“Oi, my puns are the greatest, thank you very much. I think your opinion is skewed because you’ve been too distracted by the reindeer fornicating on my sweater.”
She laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re laughing, which means that I am completely and utterly hilarious.”
“If you say so,” she sang, “Will you pelt an ornament at me so as to convince me otherwise?”
“Violence is never the answer. I’ve other alternatives, like begging and pleading you to please fuel my ego as it so desires.”
“I’m sure looking in the mirror gives you enough fuel to last the entire week. Month, maybe.”
“Are you calling me handsome?”
“I’m certainly not calling your puns funny.”
“I don’t know whether I should be turned on by the fact that you think I’m attractive or off because you think I’m unfunny.”
There was something in his tone that made her think that he was edging near the former option rather than the latter, and the manner in which his breaths were coming out more slowly was even more of a signal that he wanted something to happen between them just as much as she did.
“Maybe,” she started, and her fingers began moving up his thigh, inching upwards until she was cupping his chin, feeling the light stubble on his face, “We could reach a com—”
She was cut off by the sound of the door bursting open.
It was, of course, Sirius, who looked unsurprised at the sight of them on the bed together. “I’m going to assume that I interrupted you lot, but I’d say that you deserved it, because both of you were too slow to jump the other first thing when you laid eyes on each other.”
“What do you want, Padfoot?” James grumbled, and he removed a hand from her arm, which she hadn’t even noticed had been on her person.
“A lot of things, actually.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. Perhaps the eggnog that they’d served had gotten to his brain, if the alcohol that he’d dunked into the Christmas drink hadn’t done so already. “Anyway, we need to open presents. Oi, you lot. We’re opening presents, and no, that doesn’t include me.”
Sirius clapped ostentatiously to attract everyone’s attention, as if his random outburst hadn’t been heard by perhaps the entire neighbourhood. “We do not need a hearing aid for a present this Christmas,” Remus said as he walked in, and he regarded his mug of eggnog with disdain, as if it was Sirius in the form of a liquid.
It seemed that Sirius had already gathered all of the people who were involved in the ceremony, as a few other people walked in afterwards, and only Peter seemed sympathetic enough to flash them a look of apology for intruding on them.
“Never said anything about a hearing aid,” Sirius replied, “Maybe you need the hearing aid.”
“After your outbursts, I reckon we’ll all need hearing aids. Calm your arse, yeah?” James put in, and Lily felt that had the opportunity arisen, she most definitely would have paid to hear more of his lovely voice.
“He’s excited for presents,” Peter Pettigrew added, “I’m excited.”
“Don’t tell anyone, but I made sure that no one got Pete for Secret Santa,” Sirius drawled, and Lily whacked him lightly with a nearby pillow.
“That’s completely unsuitable for the occasion.”
“It’s fine, Lily,” Peter started, “He says things like that all the time. I’ve built an immunity to it.”
“You shouldn’t have to tolerate it.”
“If this helps,” James began, “I was your Secret Santa. Your present is the one with the gold wrapper, because I use only the finest materials.”
Peter scrambled up to grab the present as described, and this was more or less how it had went on, with everyone having an unspoken agreement on who could throw the most jabs at each other. Sirius was, unsurprisingly, Lily’s Secret Santa, and he’d thought it hilarious to include a gag gift in with the real gift— a pink scarf and an insanely giant framed picture of himself. It went on to show that the size of a present truly didn’t make it a good gift, and she’d have to find some open space in her closet to hang the portrait up on. It would have been quite rude of her to not put up the portrait.
Annoyingly enough, Sirius was completely and deliberately delaying her from giving her gift to James, and when the time finally came for her to give James the concrete embodiment of her hard work and effort, Sirius again was unsubtle in hiding his motives. She took her previous thoughts back. He could definitely not conquer the world, no matter how hard he tried.
“I’ve going to take a sh—”
“If you finish that last thought, I will throw you out the window,” Remus threatened.
“Remus and I will be going— actually, no, let’s all go together.”
“I am not going anywhere near the bathroom with you,” Remus interjected, looking aghast at the prospect.
“You’ve no choice—”
“I always have a choice,” Remus replied, and Lily had been looking on with such amusement that she’d been a bit surprised when he turned towards her, “I am so sorry for his behaviour.”
“I am so sorry that you’ve had to endure him for, what was it, the entirety of your life?”
“That’d be about right,” Peter cut in with a nod.
“I can’t believe you’re all ganging up on me.”
“You can’t honestly expect to intrude upon James and I for open gifts, only to unsubtly leave us alone when it’s time for James to open his present, can you?” she asked Sirius.
“That only makes it even more fun for him,” James said beside her, “And I’d rather they leave now than never.”
“You love us.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get out, and I’ll see about that.”
James, at that point, had taken to escorting them out of the room, and with one swift motion, he closed the door shut and clicked the lock in place. He walked towards the tree, picking up the very last gift that remained before seating himself right back beside her.
“You couldn’t have possibly found a way to clone yourself, have you?”
She found her cheeks growing red, and she shook her head. “Not unless I also found some way to shrink myself.”
He smiled softly at her response. “It’s only that I think that the best present I’ve gotten so far is meeting you.”
“Honestly, if you don’t think that this will be the best present you’ve ever seen in your life, I’m afraid I’ll have to cut off all contact with you. I worked too hard on this gift for it to only be second to myself.”
She watched his smile blossom into something nearly as radiant as a flower at her words, and he shook his head, looking a bit bashful. “Nothing could ever beat you.”
His hands drifted down to the bow that she’d tied on top of the box, slowly pulling it off, and she was glad to see that he was not one of those monsters that destroyed the wrapping paper in order to get to the gift faster. He did the action with some speed, though he was being awfully considerate in not tearing it either, and when he did accidentally make a small rip, he let out a small apology to the paper, as if he was hurting it.
Her heart only moved quicker at that action.
When he opened the box, pulling out the mug that she’d been putting all of her painstaking effort into creating, he let out a nearly inaudible gasp at the sight. He scrutinised every inch of it, and his face didn’t even once diverge from amazement, even when there was so clearly a mistake in the way she’d made it.
“You made this?” he said inconceivably, and she nodded, “How could anyone make something so bloody nice? Fucking— you’re so talented.”
She knew that his words were making her face turn so red that she had to be the living embodiment of the colours of Christmas now, because it was one thing for him to compliment her appearance, but it was something completely difficult when he was praising her work.
She’d made him a ceramic mug, having used so much of the patience that was a gift she could never have gotten from anyone other than her parents and the universe.
She’d done all of it herself, even going the length of digging out and cleaning her own clay in the back of her yard because it would take far too long to ship clay to her home, and on the side of the mug, she’d painted, of course, a reindeer.
He placed the mug down onto his bedside table and took her face tentatively in his. “Can I—”
“Please.”
He smiled widely at her, and with that, he pressed his lips to her, the taste of the eggnog he’d prepared filling her senses. There were so many things that she’d imagined to happen when he’d gotten his gift, which included— but was not limited to— him simply thanking her, or, had he turned out to be a malicious person, would have slammed all of her effort onto the ground, effectively splitting the mug into a million pieces.
She didn’t realise that she’d end up kissing him. She didn’t realise that she’d love kissing him.
There was something so tantalisingly sweet about the way he was holding on to her chin and something so utterly desirable about the manner in which he was kissing her. It wasn’t too slow or too fast, and it wasn’t even helping that her heart had taken to soaring throughout her body as if it was a shooting star, sending wonder towards every single one of its witnesses.
She’d found it too much of a coincidence that he’d end up being the person who she had to get a gift for, found it too much of a coincidence that she’d wind up being added to a group chat in which everyone but her was close with one another, and—
“Oh my goodness,” she said against his lips, and she pulled away, her eyes opening so that green could meet gold.
It was not a coincidence.
“Are you all right?” he asked her, and the way in which his glasses were skewed only added to his confusion.
She nodded. “It’s just— aren’t you peeved?”
“Peeved?” He looked more perplex. “About what?”
“We’ve so obviously been set up, and it took me this long to realise it.”
“We’ve been…” he repeated, and he blinked once, then once again. “What?”
“It’s so obvious now that Sirius set all of this up so that we could meet. Don’t you—” Her eyes widened slightly when his cheeks flared up, signifying that he knew something. He knew something. “James.”
“Right, yeah, I didn’t realise that this was a set up until after you were added to the chat, but I swear— I just thought that you were a cool person because you’re on the phone with Remus a lot. I didn’t think Sirius would take the initiative to do all of that. I— are you mad?”
Was she mad?
No, she didn’t think she was, or, at least she wasn’t mad at him.
“No,” she answered honestly, finding his rambling to be cute, “I’m not mad at all. I got to meet you, didn’t I? I think that’s enough compensation.”
“But we both agree that Sirius isn’t getting away with this.”
Her lips curled upwards. “After a few more rounds of kissing. And the sweater goes off.”
“I thought you were starting to warm up to it.”
“I could honestly never,” she laughed, but he complied anyway, pulling the cursed top off of himself. Her fingers lightly roamed over the exposed skin, and she found him kissing her once again.
There were many feelings that people felt when it came to the topic of Christmastime, but right now, all Lily could feel was joy.
There was also that small bit of wrath felt towards Sirius, but when joy was the dominant feeling, who cared what else she felt?
Summary: James had thought that he was the only person in the world who had the power to stop time, but somehow, just the sight of Lily Evans makes every second feel like an hour.
leave some love on ao3 or ffn
ahhh i hope you enjoy this because i surely did <33
He’d always considered himself a superhero.
No, not that sort of superhero, not the one who was completely for adopting a latex suit of some sort as the most iconic aspect of his or hers— no offence to all of those who did wear such uncomfortable outfits for whatever reason, because such people of power were all bloody awesome, if he did say so himself.
He wasn’t going to be slinging spider webs out of his hands any time soon, nor was he going to take any unnaturally giant being out with just the sheer force of his bare hands, though either of such would have been absolutely wicked considering the fact that he practically idolised such men since he’d been a child.
No, if one were to compare him to the likes of the larger-than-life characters, well, then he’d just be James. He was James, in fact. James Potter, who probably looked to be living that Clark Kent double-life, if he was to be judged by his outward appearance, what with his glasses and messier-than-should-be-allowed hair, but he didn’t stop menacing villains on the side, simply because he was definitely not a superhero.
It didn’t matter that he thought that he was just about cool enough to be a hero, or if he demonstrated courage through his more-than-reckless stunts that he pulled with his best mates daily, or if his kindness could be shown through helping his mum with the chores everyday, or even the mere fact that he’d somehow been born with the ability to stop time at whichever moment and time he wanted. He was not that sort of superhero.
Er, well.
At least he wanted to convince himself that that sort of superhero life wouldn’t work, but alas, words carried a much different power than actions did.
In truth, he found himself stopping time for good reasons, like the occasional stopping time to catch someone who had been so obviously cheating on an exam. Yes, justice had been served that one time he’d done that, because it meant that those who had actually worked for their grades wouldn’t be put to shame by the fact that some cheater had scored just about as high as they did. If he ever had the chance though, he’d definitely use his powers for the greater good, but because this wasn’t New York City, he was not be to greeted by the likes of King Kong or the Green Goblin any time soon. And honestly, thank heavens for that.
He would have absolutely hated to use his powers for something as horrible as stealing from the bank— which he honestly had no need to do, considering the immense wealth that his parents carried and gave him access to— or taking horrible advantage of unsuspecting women— he even shuddered to think about doing such a thing.
Most of the time, anyway.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t used the power to his advantage when playing tricks on his friends, who were none the wiser whenever he planned a surprise ‘attack,’ because there wasn’t even much they could do in defence of themselves, anyway. He could have warned them that he was about to pull a prank on them, but what would it matter if they couldn’t do a thing while frozen in place? It did feel unfair though, and so he’d taken to doing it less often than he’d used to, not to mention the fact that it got a bit old after the first hundreds of times that he’d done it. Well, somewhat old, because it was still funny to see Sirius fall on his face whenever he tied his laces together, but the pranks weren’t enough for his mate to make the decision to invest in the disgrace that was velcro.
And James wasn’t stupid either, because he used his ability for practical purposes too. Take, for instance, when the alarm for early classes went off, he’d simply just freeze time to catch up on all of the sleep that he wanted, or if he pushed an assignment off to the very last day, he easily used his abilities to give him all the time in the world to finish it in ample time.
He remembered when he was little, he froze time to eat all of the ice cream he wanted at the local ice cream shop, an action that his mother was strictly opposed against when she’d found out because she wanted him to eat healthy meals and grow up into a strong man. He’d gotten a horrible stomach ache afterwards, but the ice cream was bloody delicious, so it was honestly well worth it, especially when he supposed that he did grow up well. His face in the mirror proved it.
It was nice to reflect in this sort of weather, he mused. The sky had darkened immensely, having a tendency of some sort to turn as black as coal during the month of November at five in the afternoon, though the stars had yet to come out, not wanting to shine for him, most likely because he was not a superhero and therefore not worth shining for. That was understandable, really.
He liked walking home in the natural quietness, and one thing that he absolutely hated with his powers was that if it ever got too noisy, he could easily mute all sounds in the world, because as much as it seemed to be peaceful, it just felt odd to be walking in a world without a single sound, without a single movement, without a single laugh filling the air. And he supposed that it kind of sort of did feel lonely whenever he froze time when he thought about how he was the only person who was breathing at those moments.
He never tried to overthink on the technicalities of his abilities either, not unless he wanted to suffer from a headache that would last for hours, because even now, at nineteen years, he still had no idea how or why he’d gotten such a power. Perhaps the universe had been drinking when it had come to that decision, because it had chosen him out of all of its worthy options, but at least it didn’t make too bad of a settlement if he wasn’t bloody exploiting it for evil purposes.
He hummed softly to himself, simply because whistling was too ominous a sound to be making in the darkness, and he ignored the franticness of all of the people around him as they scurried to get home, an action that was quite understandable considering the prison-like work conditions that they faced every day with a nine-to-five job. He hoped that wherever life took him, it wouldn’t take him to the restraints that such jobs held.
The pedestrian lights were red, a sign that he was to wait until the street was cleared, and he was nearly tempted to stop time then and there just to cross the street without any waiting time, but he didn’t want to abuse his powers for a matter that was just as insignificant as this, knowing that there were people who would have killed to have such a cool ability. Yeah, he was going to wait for the sign to turn green. It was honestly the least he could really do.
When he did cross the street, in the fairest manner possible, he rounded the corner, knowing each and every time that he had to take, and if he was ever tied up in a chair and told to recreate a map of London, he’d most definitely be able to get it all down to the last detail.
And as he strolled down the street, not a single worry or concern on his mind, he caught sight of red, a very dark red colour that seemed unmatched for another other shade of red that he’d ever seen in his life simply because it was so pretty, and undoubtedly if she were to turn in his direction, she’d be pretty. She was crossing to the other side of the street, not a single car on this particular road, and he would have gone on with his life, seeing as it was completely stalkerish of him to be observing her even though he had absolutely no right to do so, had it not been for the sudden truck that had veered in from the intersecting street.
It hadn’t even seemed to attempt to slow down, definitely not seeing the redhead on the street, but if James was gauging the driver’s facial reactions properly, then it seemed that the man had no power to stop it, and from his jerking motions it seemed he was trying his hardest to unjam one of the pedals. The truck wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.
What was worse though, was the fact that the woman was right in the middle of the street, and the truck was so bloody close that even if she had all the speed in the world, she’d still be unable to avoid a collision with the vehicle. No, no, no. He could not let her die like that, not if he could help it, but just bearing witness to such an event, an event that he’d always hoped could end up with a person being saved by his hands, caused anxiety to rage up within him.
Fuck. What if he somehow, at this very instance, lost his powers, and any efforts that he took would be for naught? No, don’t think that. He could bloody do it, no matter how frozen the sight made him, no matter how much his hands shook at fear that he’d let someone die when he could have saved him.
This was far scarier than he’d ever imagined.
And with each passing second, the truck seemed to be moving faster, and the driver had seemed to have covered his eyes in fear that he was going to kill her. James could not let that happen, and at the very last second, he’d nearly thought that he’d heard the sound of a crash, but to see that she was definitely not lying on the ground meant that his brain had already started conjuring up false sounds to terrify him even more. It was enough for a snap to ring out in the air, and the world grew silent, no slams, no tire brakes, just the sound of his heart pounding against his chest, begging to be freed so that it could witness if he’d assisted in an innocent person’s death.
He hadn’t even realised that his eyes had been closed, but when he opened them again, he saw that the truck and its driver had been completely still. What scared him, terrified him, was the fact that the woman was so clearly shaking with fright, and—
No, that couldn’t be right. Nobody was able to move when he froze time, nobody but himself, but there she was, her head whirling around as she took in the sight of the frozen world around her, and when her eyes— green and beautiful and lovely and filled with every single emotion concerning fear— fell upon his, they widened, and before doing anything else, she quickly moved out of the way of the truck, as if it would suddenly roar back to life to crash into her like a wave against the sandy shore.
It was as if her eyes held some sort of spell themselves, because the sight of her, so much more beautiful than he could ever imagined, sent shooting stars racing through his heart, and he suddenly felt as if he couldn’t move, as if she could stop time herself. From the way she’d reacted to his abilities, though, it seemed that it was only all in his head, because he didn’t think that he could be thinking if that was the case.
He watched her carefully, and she hesitated at first before ultimately deciding to approach him, the only other person able to move in an otherwise still world. She stopped a good few feet in front of him, holding her umbrella out in front of her as if it was a sword. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly as she tried to take on a fearless tone, and he couldn’t help but show surprise at her response.
He didn’t expect her to fall onto her knees out of complete gratitude or anything elaborate of that sort, but in his many scenarios that he’d conjured up as how he was to save a person’s life in the most extreme way, none of them featured the girl threatening to poke his eye out with an umbrella. “I don’t think my identity is important right now,” he told her, more out of fear that she’d call the cops on him for whatever reason, “Are you all right?”
“Is he all right?” she responded, her words stressed with urgency, and she pointed back at the bloke in the truck.
“He’s fine.” He waved it off dismissively. “I’m asking about you.”
“He’s bloody frozen in place!”
“And you almost got hit by a truck!” he shot back, and he flinched, not exactly liking that he’d raised a voice at a complete stranger who most definitely was not in the wrong, “Er, sorry. I just— how exactly are you still moving?”
She looked at him as if he was insane. “Are you to say that I’m not supposed to be moving?”
He gulped, hopefully not too visibly, because he had the upper hand here. He had the ability to stop time, and yet, she was somehow immune to it, for whatever reason unbeknownst to him. How the actual fuck was she immune? Never in his life had he ever met anyone who hadn’t been affected by his abilities, and yet there she was, her eyes glaring at him as she demanded an answer from him. “I reckon you can answer that for yourself.” He motioned towards the rest of the quiet world.
“I can’t, actually, considering the fact that there’s absolutely no scientific reason that could explain why nothing in the world is moving except for us. I mean, theoretically, shouldn’t we be dead if nothing is moving? Shouldn’t we be at absolute zero if that was the case? I just—” She stopped, her eyes widening, and when she spoke again, her voice was higher with much more panic. “What exactly is going on?”
He didn’t know how to answer her, and he merely looked back at her.
She seemed to lose her balance then, landing onto her knees as her hands flew up to her mouth at just how overwhelming it all was. “This can’t be possible. I should be dead right now. No one can possibly be able to stop time. Oh god, I’m going insane.”
He edged towards her, slowly, like one would approach a startled animal, and when he was looming over her, he reached a hand out awkwardly, patting her on the shoulder because he didn’t know what to do with someone who was so evidently distraught by being a first-hand witness to his abilities. “I can assure you that you’re not dead, nor are you crazy.”
“No, I know I’m not crazy,” she responded, and she looked at him with her eyes, the green seeming to pierce into his soul, “I— The thing is, I’ve been in these frozen times before. I’ll be talking to my friend, and the next thing that I know, she stops moving. I’ve been witness to all of this before, and it’s just— it’s just terrifying yet so relieving to know that it’s not be behind all of this. Terrifying mostly, but god.”
He merely blinked at her confession. It was his turn to be surprised now— fuck, wait, no. It was his turn to be even more surprised now. “You’ve been able to do this all your life?”
“Have you been able to stop time all of your life?”
“Yes,” he said in exasperation, “Listen, I’d love to go back and forth about our abilities, but I’m sure it’s just as disconcerting for you as it is for me for time to be frozen for this long.”
“Then undo it!” she exclaimed before her eyes quickly softened at her outrage, “Please?”
He nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I— fuck— How do I undo it without giving the driver a heart attack?”
She stared up at him, and if he could, he would have thrown all caution to the wind and stared at her forever, but he wasn’t a creep, nor was that practical considering their situation. Before he knew what had happened, she had thrown him right over her person so that he was hovering above her, his legs spread on both sides of her and her eyes boring right into his. “Like this.”
“What— what the hell are you doing?” he asked her, but she stayed in that position.
“Isn’t it obvious?” she replied, and no, it was not bloody obvious, because it’d been so long since he’d last had a girlfriend and just the sight of such a gorgeous woman was making his heart nervous, what with the implications that were swarming about with him right over her. “This is the solution to not giving the driver a ‘heart attack,’ as you’d so put it.”
He was going to get a heart attack, if anything. “I don’t get it,” he told her weakly, as if their positions were making his heart physically weaker.
She sighed deeply. “It’s so that the driver would think that you saved me.”
“Oh.”
He was sure that if they’d spent hundreds of years stuck in time, he would never— not even once— come up with an idea that was as smart as her own solution to this problem, and without hesitation, he sent the world filled with sound and movement once again, the sound of the truck’s horn filling his airs as it rushed past them.
It was funny really, how he’d paused and unpaused the world at least a hundred times already, yet he could still not bring himself to get over the difference in how much louder the world was when it was action in comparison to the still world that he got to experience for himself. Her eyes had fallen shut at the sound as she flinched, and when the ugly screech of the tires filled the air, he knew that the driver had managed to work his brakes once again, taking control of the vehicle as it finally came to a halt.
She’d taken to holding on to him, most likely out of more than anything else, which was understandable, really, considering the fact that this giant man-made vehicle had almost killed, would have killed her if he’d come maybe a second too late. There was no power that he held in which he could reverse time and go back, no matter how little seconds he needed, because what was done was done, and at least with his abilities, he could save time.
It didn’t change the fact that their closeness was sending a thrill to his heart, a closeness that was quickly ripped away when the sounds of the driver’s heavy footsteps rumbled down the street as he came to make sure that she was okay. “I’m so sorry! Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I? The brakes got stuck, and—”
The poor bloke seemed to be shaking with fear out of the fact that had he hit her, he would have been charged with vehicular manslaughter and would have had to spend many of his days in prison. There was at least some obligation in the franticness of his words.
“I’m fine,” she managed, and she made a light attempt to push him off of her, but it was enough for James to get the message and pull off of her, “He saved my life.”
The driver’s eyes darted over to James, who had gotten up from the ground and was now holding his hand out to the woman. “That’s good to hear.”
She nodded at him, trembling a bit, and the driver turned around, eager to get away from an avoided crime scene. She put her hand in James’s, accepting it, and he pulled her up so that they were both standing. “I suppose I haven’t thanked you for saving me yet. I’m sorry, by the way, for snapping at you the way I did.”
He shrugged. “It’s fine. Understandable, really, when these powers are actually hard to grasp.”
The corner of her lip rose slightly. “Thank you, though. I don’t know how else to explain to you that I’m so thankful for you being there.”
“You are all right, aren’t you? Heard that three times in the last— shit, I don’t even know how to describe the time that passed— few moments, but I just want to be sure.”
“Yeah. I— yeah,” she replied, taking in a deep breath, “I’m fine. Really.”
He probably didn’t look convinced at her words, judging from the way she was looking at him, and before he could fully process the next few seconds, it was like time had frozen despite him not moving a finger, because he suddenly felt her lips falling against his cheek without any warning whatsoever. He was fully aware of how much his cheek was burning from just her touch, just a sweet and innocent gratuitous kiss, yet it seemed to be spreading down throughout his body, like how a single spark could ignite an entire building.
It was probably the only aspect in his superhero fantasies that had played out, and when she pulled away, landed effectively back onto the flats of her feet, she gave him a small smile before turning around to leave. He stood in shock for a few moments, as if she really had frozen him, and it wasn’t until she was near the other side of the street that he’d snapped back to his senses. “Wait!” She turned around, and he took it as a cue to rush up towards her. “I— You’re not saying this is it, are you?”
She looked at him in concern. “Sorry?”
“Swear I don’t feel entitled to your affections, but it’s just that I’d like to see you again sometime.”
Her head tilted to the side in confusion. “I think with your abilities, we’ll see each other soon.”
He nodded. “What’s your name?”
“Did you say identification wasn’t important right now?”
“Well, yeah, but that was then, and—” He stopped, cutting himself off, because he wasn’t even sure if she wanted to see him again before ultimately deciding to continue. “I dunno, it’s just that it’s hard to not bond with someone who shares something with you.”
“And what do we share? A near-death experience? Or is it the fact that we’ve somehow got the abilities to not be affecting by time stopping?”
“Both, I reckon, only I’d like to be optimistic about this and see the bright side of things.”
His words finally brought out a pretty smile from her, and he found that he quite liked the curve of her lips. “Lily.”
“That’s a strange reply,” he joked, and when she rolled her eyes, he added, “It’s pretty. Lily. Yeah, that’s a pretty name. If you like the name James, I reckon we both share pretty names as well, except I think yours is far prettier.”
“Your constant use of the same adjective makes me question the authenticity of your compliment.”
“Why? I think it just goes to emphasize just how pretty I think your name is. That among other things.”
“Like how pretty your name is?”
“Sure. You could say that, but really, it’s just to show just how in awe I am of your utter beauty. Like, wow, you goddess.”
She smiled sweetly at him. “I should get going now. It’s getting late.”
“What’s the rush?”
“An impending fear that another truck will materialise in front of me, and you won’t be there to stop time.”
“Yeah, you got me there,” he said, his lips curving upwards, “I’ll see you, yeah?”
She nodded. “Bye, James.”
And as she walked away, he stood there pondering what the bloody fuck just happened, but there was one thing for sure: he was definitely a superhero like the likes of Spider-Man and Captain America.
Or, perhaps more fittingly, he wanted to be a superhero if it meant that he’d save her once again. If it meant that he’d see her once again.
***
He didn’t think he ever felt as strongly as he did for the redhead who began to frequent his dreams and his mind nearly every second of every day as with any other woman who crossed his path.
He didn’t find himself freezing time all that often, but when he did, he wondered if she thought about him whenever she found herself stuck in a frozen world as well, and that mere thought made him feel at least a little less lonely. It was quite lovely, actually, how in those frozen moments, just as if they were stuck in a still picture, they were the only people breathing life into an otherwise silent world.
Meeting her, it seemed, made him at least a million times more poetic than he’d ever thought he could ever be.
The breeze that was November quickly blew over until the month on the calendar turned into December, and every street that he crossed from uni every day became holiday-filled, with the merry Santas and the jolly snowmen greeting the sights of every person who walked by. It was strange, he marvelled, at how just a refreshing change in scenery seemed to brighten the moods of every person, and even though James hadn’t seen Lily since that horrible night where she’d almost made eye contact with the likes of Death, he still found himself walking with a light flourish in every single one of his steps.
The thing with winter was that magic seemed to be more of a prospective force that swirled about in the air, simply because it was a force that was present in this time, appearing as the natural phenomenon that was snow. He’d always loved snow, always loved freezing time in the dead of winter, because there was just something so beautiful about the little crystallines suspended in the air, as if they were being hung up by a string in a children’s Christmas production. He didn’t know why exactly he’d chosen to freeze time at this very second, but he did, and the snow, which had been falling down as flurries, ceased to move, involuntarily choosing to decorate the open air the way one would decorate a Christmas tree.
There was no problem in his movements either, because walking forward would just make the little dots melt right onto him, but it wasn’t too hard to stop to admire each of their unique, individual shapes, a feat that most people were unable to see because they melted far too quickly before they could properly pay the attonage that such works of nature begged for.
With his ability, though, he had all the time in the world to give nature all of the appreciating that it wanted.
The crunch in the snow snapped him out of his thoughts, though he wasn’t scared at all, because the sounds were an indication of the person who he so desperately wanted to see again, and so he calmly turned around, bracing himself for the beauty that he was inevitably going to see.
No amount of preparation could truly ever prepare him for the sight of her, because the snow in her hair made her look like an absolute angel, decorating the strands as if they were a crown of some sort, and the coldness had left a rosy tint in her cheeks. There was a scarf wrapped around her neck, and she looked to be the epitome of all that winter embodied. When his eyes met hers, she beamed at him, a sort of smile that caused a light to shine in her eyes and crinkles to appear.
“I knew I was going to see you today,” she told him, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice, “The first snow of the year is always the best snow of the year.”
“Correction: every snow of the year is always the best snow of the year.”
“Does that mean that I’ll see you each snowfall?”
“If that’s what makes it the best snow, then yeah.”
Her smile seemed to grow exponentially at his words. “I usually get terrified whenever time freezes, but right now, it really does feel like a Winter Wonderland. How have you been? Have you been well?”
“I reckon I am now that you’re here,” he said, finding it difficult to not be smiling with the contagiousness of her evident joy. “What about you? I mean, clearly you’re happy, and that’s bloody great, but how have your days been before?”
“I couldn’t get you out of my mind,” she admitted, and his heart felt as if it was flying right up into the sky, wanting to get lost in the clouds, “There’s just something so memorable about a man who can literally make time stop as he so desires.”
“I could say the same about you.”
“I can’t stop time though,” she said, and she reached upwards, pulling a snowflake from his hair and watching as it melted in her hand.
“Well, I beg to differ.”
“Oh?”
“It feels like time stops whenever I look at you.”
Confusion flew across her face. “Time is frozen.”
“No, not like— fuck.” In one quick motion, he made the snow begin to fall as scheduled once again. “You make it almost like time slows down to me.”
Comprehension dawned on her face in the form of redness on her cheeks. “You’re exaggerating it.”
“Not a bit.”
She looked so beautiful with the snowflakes tickling her face, decorating the sleeves of her jacket, and her colours— vibrant reds and greens— reflected the merriness of this wonderful time while also contrasting against the stark whiteness of the snow. “James—”
“Can I kiss you?” he asked her, and he wished that it had come naturally for them, but he just couldn’t help the words from falling out of his lips, “Only except I’ve been dreaming for this moment since that night, and only if you want to, obviously.”
She didn’t answer him— or least, not immediately— only blinking at him, and he so desperately wished that he could freeze time, freeze her, so that he could make his getaway, because it was so obvious that she was going to turn him down, that his request was far too sudden for her to grant. He felt like an absolute idiot, and though he had never intended for his abilities to appear as an attempt to woo the other gender, perhaps it was coming off as such to her.
His hand flew up to his hair when she only continued looking up at him, and he’d nearly begun to give it up, to tell her to forget about it and leave her in the snow, but right when he’d turned around, he heard the sounds of the snow crunching behind him. It was as if the world had quickly spun in front of his eyes, had progressed forward in such a manner that he found it difficult to keep up, because the next thing that he knew, the next thing that his brain was processing was the mere fact that he was kissing her.
He felt warmth enveloping his lips, and in the moment before he’d closed his eyes, he noticed just how slowly the world seemed to be moving for him, as if it had decided to shut down solely for them, as if it had built everything that had ever happened in his life for this event. He was frozen with the coldness of the world, yet she somehow brought heat all throughout him, and that mere fact was comforting enough for him to close his eyes, to bask in the beauty that was her.
It was short and sweet, and before he knew it, she had pulled away from him, though it didn’t change the fact that her eyes seemed brighter than they had been before, didn’t change the fact his lips continued to tingle afterwards. “Just so you know, I didn’t kiss you because you saved my life.”
“I— yeah, no. I know,” he let out. Way to be smooth, James. “That’s not usually why women kiss me, anyway.”
Her eyebrows flew upwards. “Sorry?”
“Shit, I mean, fuck. I didn’t mean it like that, swear.” During times like these, he truly, madly, deeply wished that he instead had the ability to go back in time, but he wasn’t going to be picky about the power that the universe deemed him worthy of holding, even if it did turn him into more of an arrogant arse.
Of course the person with whom he’d fumble his words would be the one person who was unaffected by his ability to stop time, and he wished he could melt into a puddle just so as to not bear such embarrassment in front of the one person he wanted to impress. It wasn’t until she’d spoke that he’d realised that he was merely being overdramatic, and she said, “I know. I was only messing with you.”
“You were— what?”
“Why do you think I kissed you?”
“Shit, I think I’ll be digging my own grave no matter what I tell you.”
“You won’t,” she said, and then she gave him a coy smile, “If you want, you could freeze time, and I’ll play along so you could make your escape.”
“I don’t reckon you’re really going to let me do that.”
She shook her head. “Not at all.”
“Then, you kissed me because you find me irresistibly attractive and charming?”
“Are you stating it or asking it?”
“I dunno,” he said, shrugging, “I don’t want to come off as a self-absorbed prick if I say it like a statement.”
“You won’t, because you are very much ‘irresistibly attractive and charming,’ as so you put it,” she assured him, and to confirm her words, he watched her stand on the very tips of her toes, reaching up to press another kiss to his lips. It was probably supposed to be brief, but he couldn’t help it, securing his arms around her waist as he pulled her closer to him, and— perhaps as ironic emphasis more than anything else— he willed time to stop, the world literally stilling around them.
The snow stopped falling, and the distant blares of the city became mute once more as the only sound that he could focus on was her soft laugh, muffled slightly on his lips. She pulled away just when he’d gotten comfortable. “Did you really just stop time for a kiss?”
“Do you blame me?” he replied, “Really adds on to the magic, I’d say.”
Her eyes crinkled in response, and she playfully squeezed his arms. “Turn it back.”
He watched as snow lighted dotted the top of her hair and felt his lips quirking upwards at the sight, beauty falling right upon beauty. “It’s back to normal now, but I swear, once I look into your eyes again it’ll just start stopping on its own again.”
“For you, maybe. Not for me.”
“Yeah? Look into my eyes then. Tell me you’re not getting lost in the colours.”
She laughed. “You’re just going to use your ability on me if I do look at your eyes.”
“Maybe,” he agreed, “Or maybe I’ll just give in and kiss you again with your granted consent.”
He watched as her eyes— swirling with fascination and joy— light up even more, perhaps to the point that they could melt the snow right then and there if they so wanted to, at his words, and she was a snowflake of her own, the sort in which she truly was unique, so distinguishable from the rest.
If he could choose a moment to freeze and cherish forever, he would choose this very moment, wanting to capture the breathtaking image of her to engrave onto his brain. And growing in the very depths of his heart was a strong feeling, a feeling that could not lie to him, that told him he’d continue to have many more of these wondrous moments.
Now though, as he grinned down at the beautiful redhead, he was going to put his full heart and mind into ensuring that she was going to enjoy their time together as well.
And time, it seemed, was forever going to be on their side.
He had his ability to prove it, much to the future joy— and occasional chagrin— of Lily.
