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authors note: using the "Oh, look at the stars! Ursa Major… so beautiful!" "We're inside. Those are just ceiling lights." prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting
upcoming content: fluff!! alcohol mention, james is drunk. food mention.
word count: 1.2k
masterlist
James is practically a furnace draped over you, all heavy limbs and warm breath against your neck. His arm is slung across your shoulders, the other flopping uselessly at his side as he stumbles through the hallway with you bearing most of his weight. Every step is an exercise in patience and balance.
"You're really strong, y'know that?" James slurs, giggling into your hair. "Like... like a dragon. No, wait. A... a really buff flower. My strong flower.”
"I wouldn’t have to be if you could walk straight," you huff, fumbling with your keys as he leans more heavily into you. "James, for Merlin’s sake — can you stand up for two seconds?"
"Standing is overrated," he declares dramatically. "Besides, this is nice. I like this." He tightens his arm around you, swaying on his feet. "You’re warm. An' soft. Like... like a pillow." He tucks his face further into your neck, standing at an angle that can hardly be comfortable given the many inches of height he has on you. Yet, he practically purrs with content as one of his hands snakes up underneath your top, fingers skating across your waist making you giggle.
"James," you try to sound firm, but the way he presses a sloppy kiss to your neck makes it come out more like a laugh. "Stop distracting me. I’m trying to get the door open."
"M'not distracting you," he says, grinning against your skin. "I’m being supportive. 'S different."
You manage to wrestle the door open and practically drag him inside, kicking it shut behind you. James stumbles over his feet and flops onto the couch, arms spread wide, looking up at the ceiling with wide eyes. He jolts up as quickly as he fell down.
"Oh look! The stars!" he gasps, pointing dramatically upward. "Ursa Major... so beautiful." James stumbled in a dazed formation, totally in awe of the “night sky” that shined above him.
You blink at him. "James, those are the ceiling lights."
He frowns, squinting. "Whaaaat? No, they’re stars. Look!" He lifts his hand, tracing invisible constellations in the air. "See? The Big Dipper’s right there, silly girl!”
You bite back a laugh. "We put those up, remember? The little glow-in-the-dark stickers you insisted we buy last month? You said every flat needed its own night sky."
James gasps, staring at you like you’ve just shared the secret of life itself. "That was us? No way. We’re brilliant,” he let out with a bewildered whisper, now sitting cross legged on the rug, his stare darting between you and the stars. He couldn’t decide which view amazed him more.
"Mmhmm." You crouch beside him, brushing a curl from his forehead. "Our apartment, remember? We can do whatever we want with it."
His face softens, and his eyes go all melty and fond. "Our apartment," he repeats dreamily, reaching out to poke your nose. "That’s so cool. You and me. Living together."
"Yes, love. That’s what happens when people move in together."
James hums contentedly, flopping onto his side and curling into the cushions. "Best decision I ever made. Apart from falling in love with you."
You roll your eyes, cheeks heating. "Alright, Casanova. Let’s get you ready for bed."
He grumbles when you tug him up, but relents when you pull him toward the kitchen, his feet dragging along the floor. He sags against you, arms wrapped around your waist, and you practically have to pour him into his chair.
"Okay," you say, carefully handing him a large glass of water. "Stay."
James salutes you with two fingers, swaying slightly. "Aye, aye."
You stifle a giggle. "I’m going to the bathroom. Will you be okay?"
"Yes, of course," James says, puffing up his chest in mock seriousness.
You raise a brow. "Really?"
"Yes!" he insists, nodding so enthusiastically that he nearly topples off his seat. "Totally fine."
You hesitate for a moment before slipping into the bathroom. The mirror is streaked in places, toothpaste flecks near the sink, and you make a mental note to clean it tomorrow. You catch your reflection, eyes lingering on the tired but content expression staring back at you. The apartment is small, your job doesn’t pay you enough, and sometimes the ceiling leaks when it rains too hard. But it’s yours. Yours and James’. And somehow, even when things are tight, you make it work. The place feels full — with laughter, with love, with him.
A loud clang makes you jump.
You rush out of the bathroom, heart racing, and find James sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor, staring forlornly at what used to be a slice of cake. It’s now a sad mess of crumbs and frosting.
"James, what happened?"
He looks up at you, eyes wide and guilt-ridden. "It fell."
You press your lips together, trying not to laugh. "I can see that."
"I was trying to mold it back into cake shape," he explains, pushing the crumbled mess together with his fingers. "But it’s not working."
You kneel beside him, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "It’s okay. We’ll fix it tomorrow."
James pouts. "But I wanted cake."
"I know, love." You help him to his feet, dusting crumbs off his shirt. "Come on, let’s get you cleaned up."
He lets you lead him back to the bathroom, collapsing onto the closed toilet lid. "Okay," you say, guiding him onto the closed toilet lid. "Now don’t move, and I mean it this time."
James nods and bounces on the toilet seat like a child would. God, even drunk off his ass, he’s still the most endearing person you’ll ever know.
You grab his toothbrush and squeeze a dollop of minty toothpaste onto the bristles before holding it out to him. James stares at it blankly.
"You have to put it in your mouth, James."
"Oh. Right."
He takes the toothbrush and promptly misses his mouth, nearly poking himself in the cheek. You sigh, gently taking it from him.
"Alright. Open up."
He blinks at you. "You’re gonna brush my teeth for me?"
"Unless you want toothpaste all over the walls?"
He grins. "I love you."
You snort. "Yeah, yeah. Open."
James obediently parts his lips, and you carefully brush his teeth, trying not to laugh when he makes exaggerated "ahhh" sounds like a child at the dentist. His eyes stay fixed on you the entire time, half-lidded and soft.
When you’re done, he swishes some water around his mouth and nearly misses the sink spitting it out. You wipe his chin with a towel, shaking your head fondly.
"There. Minty fresh."
James beams at you, pulling you into his arms and pressing his face into your neck. "You’re the best. My best girl. My only girl."
"Yes, yes, I know. Let’s get you to bed before you pass out in the sink."
He lets you lead him to the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed like a starfish the moment his back hits the mattress. You pull off his shoes, tossing them into the corner, and tug the blankets over him. Just as you’re about to turn off the light, his hand catches yours.
"Stay."
You slip under the covers, and James immediately pulls you into his arms, his face nuzzling into your neck.
"I love our apartment," he mumbles sleepily. "I love you."
You press a kiss to his curls, smiling into the dark. "Love you too, James."
He’s asleep before you can say anything else, snoring softly into your pillow. And as the glow-in-the-dark stars shimmer faintly above you, and the faint smell of alcohol mixed with mint fanned your face, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you’re the luckiest person in the world.
Since I recently started reading A Black Mass Over Highway Ninety and used my very bad Photoshop skills to create these two (Like I don't have a thesis due in a few months.), I figured I might as well post them. So here we are.
June 7th - Hyacinth - 443 words - @rosestarkiller-microfic
Barty didn't have much nowadays. A halfblood who'd ascended to godhood, probably a thousand years old now.
It had sounded great at first, better than being a half blood. Besides, with his mother gone it's not like he had much to lose. Sure his father's an asshole but he'd be a god, worshipped by the people and powerful beyond imagination.
Ironic that despite all the power gods have, they're not able to help things that truly matter.
Back in the days, when Barty was a new and young godling he met two young princes. One with golden hair and eyes as blue as the sky, laid back with easy grins and a hint of trouble. The other, with hair as black as the night and silver eyes that put the moon to shame, a quick wit and dry humor.
To say Barty hadn't been completely entranced with them would be a lie.
Weeks turned into months, months turned into years they spent together, drinking tea, sword fighting, playful banter.
But like everything, it couldn't last.
War.
War was hardly uncommon among humans, especially the Greeks back in ancient times. But that didn't hurt any less.
Barty should've guessed something was off. The way the two always fought together, the looks of understanding. They knew they would die.
Despite the many years, Barty remembered the day like it was yesterday. Oh how he wished he didn't, that the pain would one day fade. But that would mean forgetting them. Barty could never do that, no matter how much it hurt.
They'd been fighting, but they were outnumbered one to three.
Regulus faltered first, a sphere going right through his stomach.
Panic.
Barty took him, sure healing magic wasn't his thing but he was a god, surely he could heal him.
Evan had gotten reckless, whether it was rage or hopelessness Barty still wasn't sure, but he too had gotten fatally injured, a cut through his side.
In a panic Barty had taken them away from the battle and to a safe field. He could fix this, he could fix this-
He couldn't.
Barty could remember their faces, gentle smiles and eyes full of defeat, of acceptance. He knew. Barty couldn't save them.
So with his magic he turned them into flowers, beautiful purple, combining Regulus' dark with Evan's light, and Barty cried, cried till there were no more tears left and then some.
—
Barty stood next to his father, some godly meeting he didn't care about.
Instead he stared ahead at the vase in front of him, full of purple flowers.
He never had any other mortal entranced him the way those two had.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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