#quidditch rivals

[snarky-magpie]

Today, I've finished a project I've been working on since freaking September. What started as an inspiration by a piece of fanart art that was supposed to be a "one shot, 5K words tops" evolved into a 50K-word duology about Quidditch rivals full of bickering and weird symbolism. You know, as is the norm. Onto the edits now, I suppose. I have my work cut out for me. A(n unedited) snippet below.

“What are you doing, Reg?” James scowls but doesn’t shake him off or forbid him from walking back. A small victory. Regulus will take it.

“Coming with you,” he says, eyes trained forward on the swaying grass. Stalks of green threaded with yellow and white and purple. So beautiful. Where they’re going, there won’t be any flowers. He’ll never run through a meadow and listen to bees among flowers and the swish of wind in his ears. 

But without James, they’d lose their meaning, anyway.

“No.” Panic filters into James’ voice. “You can’t. This isn’t a place for you.”

“I thought I made myself clear,” Regulus employs a tone he’s used forever to silence people. An inheritance from the long line of his aristocratic ancestors used to everyone bending to their will. “My place is at your side.” 

That seems to give James pause. His steps falter, then halt completely, and he sweeps his eyes over Regulus, looking desperate. Almost beseeching.

“Reggie, please. If what you’ve said is true, then this is a one-way trip.” He drops his gaze, staring at his feet. Regulus follows the direction and notices that even here, James is wearing mismatched socks. One yellow with polka dots, the other green with broomsticks.

Have to love the afterlife’s consistency.

“I know. Sorry it took me so long to see the truth. I guess, well, I guess this is my way of apologizing.” 

“Really over the top, baby. But then, you don’t do anything halfway, do you?”

[jamessluttythighs]

Please I’m craving a Jegulus quidditch rivals fic!!!! Any recs?

[where-is-vivian]

Slate Grey Skies

from @jegulus-microfic's prompt, roof (199 words)

Hogwarts’ roofs are pointy, tall like whole towers, covered in grey slate tiles, and they’re always changing; windows sometimes appear and disappear. But no one cares because no one ever comes to the Hogwarts’ roofs. They’re too steep to sit on, too high and too cold too, and if it wasn’t with a broom, James would never have seen it.

“Regulus, wait for me!” James screamed through the wind for Regulus to hear him.

“Potter, it’s a Quidditch match, not a cute broom-ride!” Regulus screamed too to answer, not turning around to face him. He was focused on something. They were spiralling and slaloming between the towers and the roofs at high speed.

“Yes, but we’re far from the Quidditch pitch! We need to—” James stops in the middle of his phrase.

We need to go back. We need to go back? This is not something James Fleamont Potter would say. So James doesn’t finish his sentence. He just follows Regulus, accelerating to catch up with him. If the latter saw the golden snitch, well, James is going to catch him before that.

“Leave me alone Potter! Drop it!”

James smiles. Wind is rushing on his skin.

“No!” Never.

[hogwartsfirebolt]

the game’s the game

“What was going through your mind when you spotted the Snitch?”

Two camera shutters go off like lighting, but Draco doesn’t blink. It’s almost the end of the season, and he’s done a press conference every week. He’s used to them.

“Fucking finally,” he answers, and the journalists all laugh. They think he’s joking, and he can already imagine the articles they’ll publish tomorrow pronouncing him cheeky and funny, but he means it wholeheartedly. Six hours in the sky, drenched all the way through his pants in rainwater, and facing the very best player in the league? He had half a mind to jump off his broom if only to have the game end somehow.

“This is the second time you face PU and well, Harry Potter, this season,” says another reporter, a young, pretty woman with her hair pinned up and a reverent tone when she speaks Potter’s name. Like everyone. “Are you expecting to encounter him at this year’s Cup? And if so, how does that make you feel?”

Draco breathes out hard through his nose. Across the room from him, sitting at his own table against the wall opposite, Potter’s doing his own press conference. He’s wearing a hat backwards, the light blue of his team hoodie contrasting with his golden-warm skin tone. He has a hand to his chin, rubbing his short beard in thought at some question he’s being asked. Probably about just how sweet it had been to snatch that Snitch right from under Draco’s nose. He’s earnest and so gorgeous Draco can’t stand the sight of him.

“The game is the game,” Harry’s voice carries, clear and chesty, deeply masculine as he says his favorite little quote that means absolutely nothing and that fans have been yelling and tattooing on their bodies the whole season. “We don’t take any victory for granted. Coach has been running us to the ground, she won’t stop until we have that trophy in Puddlemere, and we’re doing our best to make her proud.”

“Oh, I’m certain we’ll face them at the Cup,” is what Draco answers at last. “Honestly? I think no other team comes even close. We’ll face them, and then we’ll bring the Cup home to Appleby. As Potter himself likes to say, the game is the game.”

All the cameras around him go off, the sound of Quick-Quills scrabbling and the reporters’ scandalized gasps at his use of Potter’s quote. He grins, puts his olive green Arrows cap on and stands to leave. He needs a fucking shower.

Later on, he’s sprawled on his hotel room couch, drying his hair with a towel and watching a replay of the game on the enormous television, making mental notes about his own flying, his mistakes, the times he dove too soon or hovered too low. When the screen follows the blue jersey with POTTER 7 emblazoned across the back, he looks closely, trying to spot mistakes but knowing he won’t find any. Potter’s probably the best flier of the century, and Draco loves Quidditch too much to lie to himself about that.

He’s admiring one of Potter’s physics-defying feints when there’s a knock on his door. Immediately, his heart takes up a gallop, and he has to press a hand to the center of his chest with a frown.

“Calm the fuck down, Malfoy,” he mutters. It’s a disproportionate reaction and he’s irritated with himself for it. It’s not as though it’s the first time. Or the tenth.

He pauses the game with a flick of his wand and makes his way to the door, through the archway that separates the TV room from the kitchenette. A quick look at the archway across the suite to make sure the bedroom is as he left it, and he’s at the door, taking a deep breath.

Potter’s grin is huge when Draco opens. He’s foregone all his team outwear, and is now in a familiar, worn leather jacket and a black sweater. His hair is wet, as though he rushed after his shower so he could get here quicker. Draco opens his mouth to say something, but before he figures out what, Harry pushes inside, turns around and presses him against the door, big hands gentle on Draco’s waist. Draco’s heart hasn’t gotten the “this isn’t the first or tenth time this happens,” memo, and is still running a marathon inside his chest, so he says nothing.

There’s a plastic bag in Potter’s hands. Dinner, probably, he usually brings dinner when they meet after a game. His wide smile reveals white teeth, a crooked canine that Draco knows is a baby tooth that never loosened. Round, stylish glasses cover the most intoxicating green eyes Draco has ever seen, and they’re shining with tonight’s victory. And Draco might be — definitely is — the world’s sorest loser, but he’s also the world’s biggest slut for Quidditch excellence, and he has it right here, holding him against his hotel room door.

“The game is the game?” Harry asks, amused, already leaning in, the hand on Draco’s waist moving to wrap the whole way around him and pull him close.

“Just some stupid phrase I’ve heard from a dickhead,” Draco answers, but the words hold the shape of a smile and are uttered right into a kiss there at the end.

It’s always a race at the start. They're both high from the game, still in that mindset, and it’s a competition to see who can undress quicker, who can make the other harder, who can earn the first moan and coax the first orgasm of the night. But after that first one, after Draco’s jaw aches dully and Potter is softening between his legs, everything slows down a little. Potter helps him up and they share the tacos Potter brought, watching the last minutes of the game they played earlier with Draco’s legs up on Potter’s lap, where he’s massaging his knees, his quads, making sure he’s not achy from kneeling for him.

“I really fucked that one up,” Potter comments. His tiny self on the screen just pulled out of an impossible dive at what looks like a 90 degree angle. He sounds earnest, which is the only reason Draco isn’t kicking him right in his beautiful face.

“I hate you so much. Only you would call that a fuck up.”

Potter hums, his massaging hands moving from Draco’s calf to his heel, his thumb pressing into his sole. On the screen, tiny Draco swerves a Bludger aimed to his head, and his teammate Owen is flying to him to make sure he’s alright.

“That guy is so into you,” Potter points out.

“I know. We fucked all through rookie year.”

Potter turns to look at him so fast it must hurt his neck. Draco raises an eyebrow, confused at the strong reaction.

“What?”

“I — I don’t know,” Potter says, suddenly sheepish. His hands haven’t stopped moving over Draco’s foot. Potter’s skin is dark, but Draco can still make out the blush spreading across his cheekbones. “Isn’t it weird? He’s a teammate.”

There’s something he’s not saying. It’s evident in the way he bites his bottom lip, in the way he obviously wants to look away but is too ridiculously brave to actually do it. Draco’s heart thumps inside his chest, so hard he’s sure it must be audible to Harry too.

They’ve never named this thing between them. The first time they did it, after the quarter finals one year before, with Potter’s ill advised kiss that ended with them fucking in the showers of the stadium after Potter had wiped the damn dust with Draco on the pitch, they agreed to keep it quiet, and that was the last they discussed of it. It’s going on fourteen months since then, and they’ve done it at least once a month, when the league brings them to nearby towns, and sometimes when it doesn’t and they take a quick midnight Portkey to each other to blow off some steam.

Draco had never in his life been as well-fucked as he’s been this past year, and he definitely doesn’t want to lose it. Potter’s always been honest and open with him, vocal in bed about how much he wants him, filthy in his occasional text messages when they’re apart, but he’s never given any indication that he wants anything other than exactly what they have.

“It’s not weird,” Draco says slowly, unsure of what to think of this exchange. “We stopped a while ago. I was clear that I didn’t want — that I’d rather we stayed friends and teammates, without any complications.”

“Right,” Potter says. He sounds relieved, and Draco feels like he’s three steps behind the conversation they’re having. He’s about to ask, but Potter’s fingers on his calf smooth over an old knot and he groans instead, letting his head fall back onto the couch cushion.

“That feels great,” he says, and Potter repeats the motion.

“Yeah. I think you pulled it when you made that X turn.”

The turn he made to try to beat him to the Snitch, he doesn’t say. How he had enough awareness to know Draco attempted it while diving for the Snitch himself is beyond comprehension, but Draco has long accepted that Potter is simply insane about the game. He notices everything, considers everything, takes every risk. If he weren’t a player himself, Draco knows he would be following Puddlemere and Harry wherever they played for the entire season, wearing a pale blue jersey with the number 7 on it.

“Probably,” Draco says, closing his eyes and groaning again when Harry keeps pressing the same point. After a moment, he feels something softer brushing his calf, and opens his eyes to find Harry bent over his leg, kissing a path up towards his knee. He can’t help the embarrassing little sound he makes, and Harry’s laugh is a puff against his skin as he keeps moving up, breath warm on the wet trail of his kisses up Draco’s thigh. In the background, the presenters are going crazy over a feint Harry pulled, the sound of the audience carrying all through the stadium and out of the TV speakers.

Harry has made his way high up and is kissing Draco’s birthmark, a brown, apple-sized beauty mark an inch below his groin when he lifts his head to ask, “Why didn’t you want to?”

Draco can’t believe he’s using his mouth to speak at that moment. He licks his lips, trying to make sense of the question.

“What? What are you even — ?” He tries to sit up a little, but Harry moves over him instead so they’re eye-level without Draco having to move at all.

“With Caddell. Why didn’t you want to keep seeing him?”

“Owen? Why the fuck are we talking about —,” Draco lets his head drop down onto the cushions again, a sigh punched out of him. Harry takes pity and leans forward to kiss him, lips soft over Draco’s, knowing exactly how to coax his kisses out of him the way he likes best.

“I just want to know,” Harry whispers against his lips. He’s breathless just from touching Draco, from rubbing his legs, from kissing him. Fuck, this is insane.

“I like him, but it wasn’t very exciting.” Draco says. He closes his eyes as Harry begins to kiss down his neck, and tries to really think about it, because he’s not even sure himself. “I wasn’t willing to risk our teamwork when what we had wasn’t even that … electric. I don’t know. This sounds insane.”

Harry shakes his head, his beard rubbing against Draco’s collarbone. “It doesn’t. I get it.” He bites on the delicate skin connecting neck and shoulder, licks a path down his chest. “I get electric.”

“Fuck yes you do,” Draco says, nonsensical, but he feels he can’t be blamed when Harry is brushing his lips over his nipples, broad hands moving around Draco’s body to secure a grip over his ass.

“Is this?” Harry asks, mouth nearing the V of Draco’s hips, the edge of the trail of hair leading to his crotch. “Electric?”

Draco swears, fingers running through Harry’s hair and finding a grip, hard. “If you don’t put your mouth on me right now I swear I — yes.”

He spreads his thighs to accommodate Harry between them, one hand gripping Harry’s hair and the other curled around the cushion over his head. It is electric, the way Harry knows exactly which buttons to push, sliding a finger inside him while keeping him on his tongue. He’s a prodigy in this too, the star player who knows every move in the playbook that is Draco’s body.

It feels like no time at all, no effort at all before Harry is pulling back, dragging Draco closer by the waist and working himself inside. The feel of it, the sound of them together, the look into Harry’s open gaze, his sweat dripping onto Draco’s chest and his hands underneath Draco’s back, holding him, pulling him onto him, have Draco nearing release almost too fast for his liking, but the night is young and it’s been so long that he lets himself go, a cord snapping in his core, eyes open as he watches Harry watch him come apart.

“Come on,” he says once he’s come down, lifting his hips, shifting his weight onto his shoulders. “Show me what you got, Potter.”

Harry groans and leans forward, kisses Draco’s jaw and his neck, and drives his hips faster. Draco wraps his arms around Harry’s back, moves with him as much as he can in the tight embrace, and remains close as Harry meets his own peak and tumbles down the edge.

They lie together for a couple minutes afterwards, panting into each other’s skins, basking in the afterglow.

“Some pro-athletes. We have the stamina of two eighteen year old virgins,” Draco mutters into Harry’s hair after a while, and feels Harry’s chest rumble with his laughter. The room is cast in the warm glow of the foot-lamp that stands beside the sofa they just fucked in, exactly like two eighteen year old virgins having the chance to touch for the first time in their lives.

Harry always goes boneless and slow after a good lay, so Draco eases him off his body with tenderness, a gentle hand to Harry’s chest, followed by a kiss.

“Let's go to bed, yeah?” He whispers.

Harry groans. “I don’t want to move.”

“That’s too bad, because I’m exhausted and I’m going to bed. Some idiot drove me to the ground on the pitch today.”

He stands up and shakes out his legs, testing the soreness of his muscles. There’ll be an ache tomorrow, but nothing he can’t handle.

Despite his complaint, Harry is already standing up too, coming up behind Draco, a hand finding its way to the flat of his belly, his forehead on Draco’s shoulder as though he can’t bear not to touch him for even a second.

“Bed it is,” he declares against the skin of Draco’s shoulder, sounding halfway asleep already. Draco huffs a laugh and pulls him towards the bedroom, pausing at the kitchenette to grab two glasses of water that he watches Harry drink in three gulps, a couple drops sliding down the sides of his mouth, into his beard and down his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“What?” He asks when he catches Draco watching him, and Draco shakes his head and pulls him to bed. He’s so handsome it’s genuinely upsetting sometimes. Draco thinks he’d throw a tantrum about it daily if it weren’t for the fact that he gets to touch him.

They try their best, but they don’t manage a second round before their eyes fall shut, tucked into each other like two hands cupped under a stream of water, tumbling into a satisfied, exhausted sleep.

Harry wakes him with a kiss before daybreak, the last of the night chilling the room and puckering Draco’s skin.

“Do you have to go already?” Draco asks, one eye still closed and a hand curled possessively around Harry’s bicep, not entirely on purpose.

Harry shakes his head, kisses him again with a gentleness that is meant to go nowhere but extend this kiss, warm and sweet.

“I thought we could talk.”

Draco is nodding before fully grasping the meaning, but even once he does he’s not tempted to back away. Must be the night, still cocooning them, must be Harry’s arms around him that are making him brave, but he’s not nervous anymore, not now that he’s remembered what they’re like, together.

“It is electric,” he says, suspecting that’s what Harry wants to talk about. “It’s always electric with you.”

The smile blooms slowly, lighting up Harry’s face from within, his beautiful eyes, unhidden this early in the morning, his glasses still on the bedside table. Harry sits up a little, clears his throat. It seems like he’s been gearing up for this, he’s squaring his shoulders the way he does before trying a dangerous feint, before performing a play that will have Draco biting dust. This insane, wonder of an athlete. Draco forces himself to shake the last of the sleep away, to focus on him, on what he wants to say.

“I know that … so many of us want you,” Harry starts. “On your team, on mine, the whole league, actually. But I —”

He looks like he’s stating an absolute truth, like he has irrefutable proof, and Draco is taken aback. He knows some of the guys find him attractive, but that’s not the same as being wanted. He shakes his head. “What? Where did you get that?”

“I’ve talked about it with the guys, but that’s not the point,” he adds hurriedly when he sees his eyes widen. Draco hasn’t said a word to anyone, not out of shame, but out of sureness that they were sneaking around, that they were making it a point to hide. Apparently, he was wrong. Harry continues, “What I want to say is … I know we’ve not agreed on anything, that you’re free to want others, be with whoever you want to be with. I thought that you knew where I stood, that if you weren’t saying anything it was because you didn’t want the same thing I did, but it’s been brought to my attention that if I’ve not made an honest offer, I can’t assume you’re saying no.”

Draco’s heart is hammering inside his chest, inside his throat. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but if he’s right, it seems Harry is saying …

“I don’t want this to be a once a month thing. I want to bring you home, I want you to meet my family, and I want the guys to know that I’m saying no to all the people they set me up with because I’m taken and completely uninterested in anyone else. Are you … is that something you want, too? I know you might have better offers, but I – ”

The covers crinkle under Draco’s knees as he sits up, throws a leg over Harry’s body so he can fully sit on his lap and brings him forward by the neck.

“You beautiful idiot. What could be a better offer? Why would I care about any other offers when I have the best one right here?”

They’re kissing, and Harry’s gasping, and Draco’s frenzied heart pounds against his sternum. He nods into the kiss, feels dizzy with how much he wants what’s being offered. Fuck. There’s nothing he wants more.

Harry pulls back a little, whispers: “Does this mean we’re — ?”

“Yes, fuck. It’s — The game’s the game.”

“What — That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Shut up. It’s your quote.”

Then they’re laughing into a new kiss, and it’s not the first, or even the tenth time they’re together like this, but Draco’s heart still goes crazy for this man, for his unlimited talent, his openness, his electric company. Quarter finals are coming up, then semis, then they might meet again on the pitch and Draco might lose and throw a strop and want to tear the hair out of his head over the beautiful Quidditch Harry plays, and then they’ll get to go home and celebrate a victory. No matter who takes the trophy. That’ll be the game.

Read On Ao3

[ultravioletbrit]

“run” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 392 words

This is James’ favorite time of year to run. He and Regulus like to run in the mornings and right now is the perfect weather. The summer heat is long gone, but the bitter cold hasn’t arrived yet. The air is cool and crisp and there’s a slight chill that makes every deep breath refreshing. Plus, James loves the leaves; the beautiful colors in the trees and the crunchy ones he can step on.

James is so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t realize he started to run a bit faster. He realizes when Regulus comes up beside him and glares at him then speeds up slightly so he’s just in front of James.

Oh, that will not do. James also speeds up to run beside Regulus then gives him a side glance before speeding up again.

He feels Regulus coming up beside him, but this time Regulus doesn’t match James’ pace, he runs right past him. James does the same.

Thank God they were almost home because they both keep pushing faster and faster, and by the time they reach their street, they’re nearly at a full sprint to their house.

James surges forward, putting in every last bit of energy he has and… it’s not enough.

Regulus reaches their front yard just seconds before James. Just enough time for him to turn and give James a smug smirk as he reaches the yard.

As soon as James steps on the grass he collapses to the ground and Regulus follows suit. They both roll and lay on their backs beside each other attempting to catch their breath.

After several minutes they turn their heads to look at each other, still breathing heavy.

“Why did we do that?” James asks.

“I feel like I’m dying.” Regulus says instead of answering.

“My legs feel like jelly.” James tells him.

“I can’t feel my legs.” Regulus says.

They stare at each other for a moment before they both start laughing—well, it’s more like little huffs because they’re both still out of breath.

“We should go inside.” James says after a minute.

“Okay… you have to carry me.” Regulus tells him.

“What?” James huffs another laugh.

“I have no legs.”

“I have jelly legs.”

“But I won.” Regulus pouts.

“Okay…” James can’t say no to that pout. “Give me an hour and I’ll carry you.” He also can’t walk right now.

“Okay.”

[hoomandoescosplay]

Rivals To Lovers | Regulus Black x Reader Oneshot

The air around us is thick with anticipation for the game. As my teammates and I are getting ready we chatter excitedly about the game. Games against Slytherin are always enjoyable since both teams always get fueled with competitive rivalry.

I feel a strong pat on my back and look up to see James grinning at me. “Kick Black’s ass for all of us, got it?” I grin back at him. James is always the one who is pumping us all up before matches, and it works wonders for our morale.

He always makes sure we are fully prepared for our opponents regardless of the house we’re facing. I nod my head vigorously as I get more excited. Regulus and I have always been known to get on each other's nerves especially when it comes to us both fighting for the Snitch.

Some of the others cheer at James’s words and I can’t help but laugh. I absolutely adore everyone on the team and how supportive they all are. I put on my last bit of gear as Marlene walks up to me.

She gives me a wink and pats me on the back. "You ready to kick some ass?" A grin forms on her face, clearly excited for the game about to start.

“You know it.” I grin back at her. Marlene gives a loud cheer causing our other teammates to look in our direction. I see Sirius snicker from across the room as James rounds us up into a circle.

He gives us all one last pep talk before ushering us out onto the field. We all exit the locker rooms and line up, our brooms in our hands. We face the other team as they mirror us. The sky is clear, no sign of rain. Our last match against Slytherin was horrid with how bad the rain was coming down.

The crowd is going wild already, the stands packed with people. Regulus and I make eye contact as he finds his place in front of me. The air between us has the usual charge of tension as we look at each other.

I can see the competitive fire in his eyes and it's clear he wants nothing more than to win. He gives me a slight nod, his face stoic as ever. I nod back at him in return before getting my broom in the proper position. I can tell this will be a fun game. Our eyes break away for each other as we see the referee getting ready to throw the Quaffle into the air.

“Hope you prepared to lose this match Black.” I say with a smirk as the Quaffle goes up and all of the players immediately get on their brooms and begin to fly in the stadium.

I watch the Quaffle get hit back and forth as my eyes scan for any sight of the Snitch. The cheers fluctuate in volume anytime one of the teams is close to getting a point but I do my best to block it out.

My mind was so focused on finding the Snitch that I didn’t even realize someone was next to me at first. I jump at the sound of Regulus' voice. “See anything yet.”

I turn my head to look at him. “Do you honestly think I’d give you an answer to that question?” He smirks at my response, making me glare at him slightly.

“It seems as though (Y/N) and Regulus are starting their little feud a bit early in the match today.” Remus says from the announcer stand, catching my attention.

I have to hold back a smile. Comments like that usually get on my nerves cause it puts more attention on Regulus and I but for once it was helpful.

“Nice chat but I’ll be going now, Black.” I say before zooming off to trail the Snitch. Thank you Remus for helping me find it. I chuckle slightly as I hear him curse under his breath.

Regulus is very competitive. Almost as much as I am which makes these games even more enjoyable. The seekers on the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff teams are good but Regulus is the closest to my skill level. He makes me actually want to put effort into winning.

I can feel him gaining on me making me speed up a bit more, my eyes never leaving the Snitch. The air around us nearly hums with our energy as we weave through the other players.

A small gasp comes out of my mouth as I stop my broom short. I blink rapidly as the Quaffle just barely misses me. I scan the area to see one of the Slytherin beater’s snickers.

All of the Gryffindors watching the match begin to boo, causing the Slytherin side to get even more riled up. I hear James call out to me from his position but I can’t hear him over all of the noise. “What?” I say, my own voice getting drowned out. He repeats himself as I read his lips. “You alright?” I nod my head and give him a thumbs up.

Regulus fly’s up next to me again. As I glance at him I can tell he’s extremely pissed off. "That was on purpose." He says as his jaw clenches slightly. "That bastard was deliberately aiming for you."

I let out a small sigh. “Don’t go all protective mode on me right now. We’re in the middle of a match.” His scowl deepens at my words. "You almost got hit by a quaffle." He says, his voice low and dark. "Forgive me for being upset about."

“Can you be upset about it later? It’s going to look out of character right now.” I lower my voice as well. “I’m fine. I'm not hurt. That’s all that matters.”

His mind is racing making it hard for me to keep a neutral look on my face. I love how protective he is when it comes to me but I would rather avoid others noticing it right now.

“Another point for Gryffindor. Guess Slytherin can’t keep up with us today.” A small smack sound emits from the announcer stand as Remus gets hit on the back of the head slightly by McGonagall.

I take a moment to look up at the announcer stand and I see Remus rub the back of his head while McGonagall looks at him in disapproval. I let out a silent chuckle, shaking my head at the sight.

“You sure you’re fine?” Regulus’s voice gets my attention again as I nod. “I’m fine I promise.” He continues to look at me for a moment, a flicker of worry and protectiveness flashing on his face before disappearing.

I see his eyes dart from mine and I immediately pick up on why. I spin my head around as I see the Snitch as well. It's right there, in both of our sights. I watch it flutter near the stands and take off, my body pushing me forward. I feel all of my focus hone in on the Snitch.

Regulus and I are side by side as we chase the Snitch. Anytime one of us gains a bit of space the other catches up quickly after. The Snitch makes many fast turns and drives but that only makes us increase our speed.

Adrenaline pumps into my body, making my muscles tense. I've never had such a close chase for the Snitch before. I can see him from the corner of my eye, his face a mix of concentration and determination.

My fingers tighten their grip about my broom as I lean further down to increase my speed. I see him copy my movements making me grumble slightly. “Copycat much?”

"I need to catch the Snitch somehow," He replies, his voice slightly strained. "Not my fault you have some good techniques." I continue to follow you closely, my eyes glued to the Snitch as I process his words.

“Didn’t expect to get a compliment from you on the field.” I tease as I reach my hand out to try and grab the Snitch. He just rolls his eyes before reaching his own hand out.

Each time one of us tries to grab the Snitch, the other is right there too. We're so closely matched that it's almost irritating me. “Come on.” I mumble under my breath as I stretch my arm out even further.

Again he copies my movements, the Snitch grazing his fingertips making me slightly panic. There is no way I’m going to let him win. I won’t let Slytherin win.

An idea pops in my head. I’ve never actually attempted this trick outside of practice, and definitely never at a speed like this. The Han around my broomstick clenches as I debate if it’s worth trying.

A small growl comes out of Regulus as he tries to grasp the Snitch again. I make up my mind and start to shift my position slightly on my broom. Please don’t fall off. I repeat in my mind as I steady myself while beginning to stand.

Regulus notices my shift and immediately slows his broom down slightly. “What are you doing?” He asks with an alarmed tone. I keep my eyes on the Snitch as I answer him. “Winning.”

"By attempting something that is incredibly dangerous and could result in you falling off your broom?" He says, his voice laced with irritation and concern.

“Exactly what I’m doing.” I nod my head in confirmation. He watches in horror as I rise onto my broom and start to walk towards the end. "Do not do—" Regulus starts to say, but cuts himself off as he sees me grab the Snitch. "Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me."

My eyes light up as my hand grabs a hold of the snitch. That little bit of extra length was all I needed. I cheer loudly and raise the Snitch up in my hand before wobbling slightly.

I readjust myself to sit on my broom properly before continuing to celebrate. “Hah I won this time.” I say with a grin as I hold it out in front of Regulus’s face.

"I can see that." He grumbled, his expression turning into a full-on scowl. Despite his irritation at my victory, I can tell he has a small rush of pride at my ability to win like that. "You're bloody insane, you know that?"

The Gryffindor section cheers loudly as the Slytherins sulk slightly at the outcome. We both begin to fly down to the center of the field where we started as I reply back. “I know. But you love this side of me.”

He let out a huff of irritation, but can’t help the subtle upturn at the corner of his mouth at my words. “You’re ridiculous,” He finally responds while shaking his head, but there is a lack of annoyance in his words.

As we land we both dismount our brooms. I immediately get swept up by my teammates as Sirius and James lift me up on their shoulders, cheering with the rest of our team.

I see Regulus roll his eyes as James and Sirius parade me around the field. It wouldn't be a proper Gryffindor victory if they didn't parade me around. I can’t help but laugh out loud at their antics. After they get tired of carrying me around they place me back down on the grass and each of our teammates gives me a pat on the back.

My eyes roam to Regulus every now and then as he watches from the sidelines. As Marlene pulls me into a side hug one of Regulus’s teammates pulls him towards their respective team room to change and leave the field.

“We’re going to have the best party tonight in the common room.” Sirius grins at me as we all begin to head to our own designated room to change as well.

─── ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ───

I yawn slightly as I sit outside of the Slytherin common room. I expected someone to come out of the entrance by now. I usually don’t have to wait this long to sneak inside. Regulus and I should really pick times for when we meet at each other’s common rooms.

My eyes begin to close as I lean my head against a pillar. I hear faint footsteps but ignore them, keeping my eyes closed. I then hear a snicker making me open my eyes. “Having fun down there love?” Regulus asks with a smirk on his face.

“Did you have me wait out here as payback for winning?” I playfully whined before reaching my hands out indirectly asking him to pull me up.

He chuckles softly, taking my hands in his and pulling me up to my feet. "Maybe a little bit." His eyes roam over me for a moment, taking in my appearance. "You look tired."

“I’m exhausted.” I say as I wrap my hands around his waist and lean my head against his chest. Regulus wraps his arms around me as his hands run soothing circles on my back.

“You’re probably exhausted from that ridiculous stunt you pulled to win.” He teases. I look up at him and puff my cheeks out. “No, I've been practicing that for a while. I’m tired cause your brother and James throw insane parties. Gryffindor parties are not for the weak.”

Regulus let out a bark of laughter, his hands drifting to my hips. “Yeah well, that tends to happen when James and Sirius are involved.” I start to laugh, leaning my head back on his chest.

Regulus pulls me closer against his body. "You were impressive today though. Don't think I didn't notice how good you are out there on the field." A smile forms on my lips as I look up at him.

Without saying anything my hands go up to his face as I pull him towards me, kissing him gently. A small hum emits in his throat as my lips meet his.

His hands grip my hips a little tighter, holding me against him as our kiss deepens. A moment later he breaks away from the kiss, our eyes locking on one another. “You were pretty good out there too.” I return the compliment as my smile grows.

“Of course I was.” He says with a smirk, leaning down to brush his nose against mine. “Not that you can blame me for being distracted when I had such a good view the whole time.”

I laugh again from his comment. “Alright, sure. We'll go with that as the reason you lost.” Regulus rolls his eyes at your response but there's no irritation behind them.

He leans his forehead against mine as I move my hands to rest on his shoulders. "You're lucky I love you." I hum lowly. “I love you too.”

[acertifiedwitch]

Enemies to Lovers Jegulus except it’s them going full on Highschool Jock Pride and constantly trying to best each other, because they are both prodigies and can’t stand anyone being better at the thing they’re excelling at (Quidditch).

[dreamer0903]

I need to study (I have an exam tomorrow 😫) BUT I remembered this amazing fic, which is fairly popular tbh, that I read like...more than a year ago???

This fic + Just lovers were the ones that got me into jegulus :)

The fic is : blue and yellow skies by alarain

I only remember that I really liked this fic 'cause it was a "rivals to lovers", and I ate this in like 4 days but I don't really remember it that well, maybe one day I will re-read it.

Anyway, a solid 9/10

now I need to study...

[emlovessid]

november 22, problem, 118 words, mildly nsfw unofficial jegulus microfics with @onehundredflamingos

It’s unusual to get a transfer mid-season, but not unheard of. What is unheard of is a mid-season transfer of one of the league’s star players.

“Look, I know that you and Potter don’t see eye to eye, but he’s an excellent chaser and I need you to put your rivalry aside for the sake of the team. Is that going to be a problem?”

Is playing on the same team as James Potter going to be a problem? No.

But trying not to think about how James Potter tilted his world on its axis when he fucked him in the locker room showers after their match against each other last week? Yeah, that might be a problem.

[lupinsorion]

jegulus au everything is exactly the same but no magic and when they play quidditch it’s the version where you run around a football field w a stick btwn ur legs and chase painted golf balls

[snarky-magpie]

“Reggie! Reggie! Reggie! Do you hear me? Are you okay?” 

The bloody annoying wanker yelling at the top of his lungs until he’s blue in the face has the audacity to shake him, sending bright zips of pain through his injured limb.

“Leave off, you prat. Mind the arm.” What is his brother doing here?

“Thank fuck.” Sirius hugs him while avoiding his mangled body part. “I thought you’d gone into shock.” 

Regulus can’t say for sure that he hasn’t. He’s at the end of his rope, barely holding it together, but a complete breakdown will have to wait till later. He can’t afford to fall apart until he knows James is out of the woods. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks Sirius. On the periphery, he registers the remaining members of the Magpies and the Falcons touching down around them. Amelia lands the closest, so Regulus can’t miss the floppy golden wings peeking out of her balled fist. Everything happened so fast that he didn’t catch the whistle announcing the end of the match. 

I was too busy with my world ending instead. 

His teeth begin to chatter, and Sirius shoots him a concerned look. 

“Come sit down, Reggie. Somebody should examine your injuries.”

“No.” Doesn’t Sirius recognize that a handful of scratches and a broken bone don’t compare to what James is going through? Doesn’t he grasp with his ignorant little mind that Regulus can’t afford to waste time? That he needs to apparate to St. Mungo’s immediately to support him? 

Turns out, he underestimates his brother, who sets his jaw in a stubborn line after one glance at him. “That was not a request, Regulus. Get treated first—swear to Merlin, if the Healers don’t do their jobs, I’ll heal you myself—and then you can go to James, all right? Not a minute sooner. Not in this state. You won’t do him any good like this. He’d have my head if I let you run around injured. You know how he gets. He’d want you to take care of yourself first.” 

[ahsokathegray]

Happy Friday the 13th! Here’s some self-indulgent Hogwarts professors Rexsoka! 🎃

Yes, they may be married, but they’ll still root for their respective houses during Quidditch season. Rex is def under the impression that Hufflepuff will win this match, but flying instructor Ahsoka knows the odds look better for Gryffindor!

[olivers-cocoapuffs]

Jegulus isn’t the mlm Dorlene. Flintwood is.

[apathetic-kiss]

dorlene are the true rivals-to-lovers.

dorlene hating each other from first year, despising one other, rolling their eyes whenever the other's name is mentioned. dorcas being top of the year in transfiguration, marlene making the quidditch team in second year, dorlene arguing over who is more successful. dorlene cursing each other in the hallways, sending notes making fun of one another in class, sending each other death stares across the great hall.

dorlene being fire and ice, chaser and keeper, gold and silver. their fiery fighting settles into cold hard hatred, and by third year it's common knowledge amongst the hogwarts students not to mention their names to each other for fear of being hexed. they take out their anger in quidditch matches, during exams, in house rivalry. dorlene as each other's biggest motivators, spite fuelling them to to better than the other.

dorlene being partnered up fifth year, the rest of their potions class wincing when their names are called out together. dorcas cursing marlene for messing up their project, marlene shouting at her outside the classroom. the two girls storming off in different directions, ignoring the detentions and house points lost behind in their wakes. marlene fighting with lily for saying dorcas really isn't that bad, dorcas kicking pandora out of her room after she compliments marlene's hair. their hatred for one another only grows after realising they have detention together for the next two weeks.

dorlene in detention together. dorlene scrubbing the floors and marlene begrudgingly complimenting a save dorcas made at the last slytherin vs hufflepuff game. dorlene talking about quidditch, ranting about games and teams and techniques. dorcas catching herself smiling when she realises they are actually getting along, marlene grinning when their hands accidentally touch. dorlene fighting less in class, dorcas picking up marlene's books when she drops then and marlene thanking her. barty's eyes nearly popping out of his head when marlene compliments dorcas' makeup and dorcas blushes.

dorcas being friends by the end of sixth year. it's the quidditch final, gryffindor vs ravenclaw, and for the first time in her life dorcas finds herself wearing a maroon and gold jumper. evan doing a double take when he reads the surname on the back. gryffindor catching the snitch, winning the game, students spilling out onto the pitch. marlene, hair loose and mascara running down her face, breaking away from james' arms and running towards dorcas. kissing her in front of their friends, their loved ones.

dorlene are the rivals-to-lovers OKAY?

[innexury]

I FINISHED IT 🫶🫶 tried to control myself and made it only 5k but here’s the link to my taylor swift dorlene brainrot

ok thats it im writing a dorlene quidditch rivals to lovers oneshot while listening to i can see you (tv) on repeat

[takeariskao3]

my hand is at risk (i fold) for @fairsquare16, by takearisk

It's the opening match of the '97-'98 term, and a last minute change to the Gryffindor line-up has Slytherin Quidditch Captain, Harry Potter, giddy.

read on ao3