#rugby player James potter

[kitaylo]

@jegulus-microfic/ june 7- welcome/ 309 words Rugby player James, Regulus is down bad.

Regulus was sitting in the library reading his book, earphones blasting Mitski in his ears when someone snatched them. He looked up, glaring at Barty, who looked out of breath.

“ Reg, you need to see this !” Barty said, cheeks flushed.

Regulus raised an eyebrow in question, but before he could let words out of his mouth, Barty started dragging him to the rugby playground. He tried to tug his arms out of Barty’s grasp, but Barty was stronger.

Once they arrived next to the bleachers, he saw the rugby team warming up for their practice. Regulus wasn’t a sports guy; he was more into low-effort workouts, for he hated to sweat. However, now he was forever changed. If he could enjoy this sight now and then, he’d definitely become a sports guy.

The sight in question is one James Potter sweat-drenched under the blazing sun. A resistance band surrounded his thighs as he lifted one leg in the air, the other planted on the ground and stretched. You could see the tendon of his muscle stretching under the sun’s warm light, glistening; Regulus couldn’t help but groan. His shorts were riding up, leaving the inside of his thighs visible to torture Regulus further. He heard Barty stifle a chuckle next to him, which earned him a slap on the arm. James’ thighs were sinful; Regulus would happily become a sinner to have a taste of them. His eyes followed James as he got up, took off his t-shirt, and drenched himself with water. James was a very diligent man, Regulus thought. He appreciated that his upper body looked as unholy as his lower body. He felt his knees grow weak, and if it hadn’t been embarrassing to kneel next to the bleachers, he would’ve done so.

Barty elbowed him and said, with a teasing smirk, “ You’re welcome.”

[ellecdc]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRwJofVh/

Hear me out. Rugby James Potter

🫠🤤

I also love how the caption was talking about the players legs like his whole booty wasn’t right there

[mrkeatingsblazer]

Im sick to death of lanky James potter. He’s a buff lad, if he was a muggle he’d play rugby.

[reggie-black-is-my-gender]

We need more rugby player James

[theemporium]

I’m in a pub watching rugby with my roommates when I just wanna be in bed writing🫠

[flores-and-sunshine]

Never related more to a drunk man in my life 😂

jealous rugby!james 😩 maybe a teammate or someone in the stands flirting w reader and jamie being the fireball that he is intervenes 💖💞💓💞💖

today is multiverse monday! send me an au you can think of :)

--

The Kiss Cam is not something you enjoy as the girlfriend of a rugby player. It's very cute to watch awkward teenagers fumble through their first kiss, or an elderly couple reignite their sweet love, but when it lands on two random people, nothing but chaos comes out of it.

And today, of course, fate has chosen you as one of its unlucky victims.

Your face pops on the jumbotron and you groan internally, already peering for James on the field. You have a set routine for when the cameramen decide to pick on you, and James is standing position already.

But instead of flashing to your boyfriend's face, where he's locked and loaded to send a flying kiss your way, another man pops up on screen.

The one beside you, who, unfortunately, has had more beers than he can handle.

He turns instantly, and you shift in your seat. You point frantically down at the field, shaking your head vehemently as the man tries getting your attention. He's not moving forwards, which is nice, but you're not sure how long he'll drown out the crowd chanting at you to kiss! kiss! kiss!

Finally, by the grace of whatever deity has granted you peace, the picture changes. Now it's your boyfriend beside you, brows knit in an angry line.

"That's my bloody girlfriend!" He shouts, and you know he'll get flack for his language, "I'm the only one that gets to kiss her!"

To prove his point, he rushes you. You're only sitting a row up from the field, and he easily scales the wall into the stands, muscles strong enough to send him flying over a barely inhabited row. The crowd roars and rages as he lands beside you, muttering a gruff 'move over, mate' to the man you'd been set up with.

Now all of the cameras are on you as he tilts your chin up with a massive, rough hand, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. Your eardrums practically blow at the sound of the audience, but you let yourself get lost in the kiss for the moment that you have him to yourself.

"There," He proclaims in a huff, glancing at the jumbotron, Kiss Cam still bold at the top, "She's been kissed. Better luck next time," He pats the drunken man on the shoulder as he bids you a sweet goodbye, some of the man's fifth beer sloshing over the rim of his glass as he tries keeping up with the probably-blurry version of James in front of him.

"He's- he's your boyfriend?" The man beside you asks, beer hot and heavy on his breath. You try not to cringe, nodding politely. His face turns down into a pitiful pout, and you bite your lip to stop from laughing when he whispers pathetically, "I wanted a kiss too."

[inkdrinkerworld]

𝓒𝓤𝓟𝓘𝓓'𝓢 𝓒𝓤𝓡𝓢𝓔

Synopsis: James can make your days trying to get a story for your company really hard, he gets under your skin and knows exactly what buttons to poke and you hate it.

cw: a bit of an axious!reader, rugby!james, i used the house names for the clubs but it is not at all set in the HP universe.

wc: 1.1k

-`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´-

Sports journalism is fun and rewarding. 

You love going to the post and pre-match interviews and talking to the players and managers and getting all the insight you can to then write your story. What you don’t like is having to interview James Potter. 

Everytime James sees you in the press room, he decides it’s his time to be the most non-descriptive, non-responsive to all of your questions and make it difficult for you to even write a story. He loves giving you vague answers that don’t answer any of your questions and it gets under your skin like nothing else. 

It’s even more tiresome when he’s the team’s go to media-man because of his looks. He’s England’s current heartthrob first and their best flanker second. He’s beefy and burly, with curls that look like they’ve been ink dipped individually and dimples that throw a wrench into many a woman’s plan. It also doesn’t help you, mostly, that he’s the perfect gentleman the minute the cameras are on and everything he says takes on this sugary, colying tone.

Dread fills you as you walk into the media room, finding a few familiar faces before you sit to the back. You hope in vain that James isn’t on media today, maybe they’ll put his sweet teammate Remus on media duty. He’s always sweet and succinct, answering all the questions, no matter how ridiculous, with a grace and precision you suspect makes him perfect for being the team’s fly-half. 

You’d even interview his rowdy teammate Sirius, possibly the best winger in the game right now, and endure his loudness and even his flirtations with the camera so long as you just got good answers. 

Your hope is shattered when you hear James talking as he rounds the corner, your hands grow cold knowing that today is the day you write a half decent story about the Gryffindor team. 

“Morning,” he calls as he enters, his eyes find you immediately and the smile he shoots you makes you scowl. It’s going to be a long press day. “It’s great to be back.” 

“How have you and your team prepared for the start of the season? Knowing it’s a derby game must make it all the more exciting to be back.” One journalist starts, sweat already pebbling on your brow. 

James answers perfectly, in depth and with the knowledge that you sometimes forget these players possess. 

“What about the injured players from last season? Can we look out for their names on the starting squad? What sort of system can we look forward to this season?” You ask, hands shaking as you prepare for the worst. You hate how much anxiety courses through you nowadays in these interviews. They used to be far more fun. 

“I can’t well say what we’re going to play this weekend, it’d be a bit of a helping hand to the Slytherin team.” The media room laughs and you have to bite your tongue to keep the scowl off your face. “However, we’ve got a lot of key players back in the squad, so I’ll say keep your ears open for some names you haven’t heard in a couple months.” 

By the time you’re finished with the conference, you’ve got sufficient answers for the hopes of the beginning of the season but every other question was bypassed or you’d received a roundabout answer. 

You’re picking up all your equipment, the other journalists all gone already. James hovers near the door, watching you for whatever reason but it makes your skin crawl. He has to know what he’s done. 

“Can I help you, Potter?” You ask, lifting your head to catch a peek at him. His arms are folded across his chest and he’s leaning against the doorframe, something sort of like a smile on his face. 

“Just waiting for you to be done. Wouldn’t feel right to just leave you in here alone.” There’s a bit of sincerity but mostly amusement in his tone and you roll your eyes. James laughs and pushes off the door frame moving towards you, “All done?” you huff and sigh, hoisting your bag over your shoulder and walking past him. 

“Have a good training session, James.” he nods, watching you go with a smile on his face, one that spreads bigger when your perfume lingers in the room after you. 

-

When you hit submit on your report you feel good but stressed. 

What usually takes you an hour and a half to get done, took you twice as long because reports have been so slow during the off-season that you wanted to get it perfect before the opening match. Stretching, you make your way into the kitchen. 

You’re sure half the worry was unnecessary and the other half was about impressing your boss. God knows you need that woman to be pleased with something you do this year. 

Your phone rings before you can give in to that anxiety inducing thought, your stomach pits and the cup of tea you had to your lips lower. “This is Y/n.” 

“Hi, I want to talk about the interview you just submitted,” Your boss is a bit of a hardass. She’s always harping about things being ‘perfect’ and stories being complete, so in the two years you’ve worked there, though you’ve climbed to higher and higher positions, you’re still the fresh and sort of peppy girl you were to her when you’d handed in your resume and appeared in her office in a blue suit. 

“Sure,” you set down the tea and open your laptop, ready for a slew of changes or to change whatever she wanted you to. 

“It’s great,” that’s high praise, yet you sense something in her tone. You’re almost certain she’s going to make you rewrite the entire thing to make the opening game of the season, a derby game no less, seem even more anticipated than it already is. “I just want you to add a little more about the history of both teams. Potter’s already brought in an influx of new fans, we want to make it easy for them to get into the season and get behind either team and feel the rivalry.” 

That’s not what you’d been expecting. Not what you were expecting in the least. 

“I’ll resubmit tonight by eight.” is what you say but inside you’re twirling and jumping around your apartment while morning sun streaks through your living and early 2000s pop music is blasting through the house. 

James Potter and his non-answers be damned, you just got the best compliment of your work life.

[theprongspotter]

Bag - Jegulus - @stag-microfic - Day 19 - 1,009 words

Regulus stands near the entrance of the student union, staring down at his phone as his thumbs dances across the screen with rapid precision. Barty has been blowing up his phone for the past five minutes with increasingly ridiculous messages, ranging from “r u dead or smth??” to “im dying of boredom in this hellhole.”

“Get a grip,” Regulus mutters under his breath as another notification from Barty pinged onto the screen. He responds quickly, reassuring his impatient friend that he’d be there soon, though Barty’s dramatics were beginning to grate on his nerves. He can practically picture Barty slouched over a table in the library, drumming his fingers in exaggerated impatience while Evan probably sat quietly, ignoring his antics.

Just as he finishes typing, a voice rings out sharply through the busy hallway: “Look out!”

Regulus barely has time to lift his head before a figure comes barreling toward him like a freight train. His eyes widen, and for a split second, everything seems to slow down. But there is no stopping the inevitable. The next moment, the person’s solid frame collides with his, and the impact sends Regulus sprawling backward onto the cool tiles. His phone slips from his fingers, clattering onto the floor beside him.

A sharp ache radiates through his lower back and elbows from the fall, and Regulus grimaces, his palms pressing against the ground for support as he momentarily lays there, dazed. There is a murmur of concerned voices around him, the hallway bustling with students between classes, but Regulus ignores them as he mentally assessed the damage. It isn’t until he gathers himself to stand with his phone in his hand that he notices something was missing.

His tote bag.

The realization hits him like a second wave of panic. His black tote bag, the one that carries his laptop, books, and—most importantly—his latest assignment, is no longer slung over his shoulder. Regulus’ gaze darts around frantically as he scans the ground around him. A wave of frustration surges in his chest. Of course, he thinks bitterly. Just my luck.

As if this day can’t get any worse, a figure steps into his line of sight, holding the missing tote bag in one hand. Regulus’ eyes flickers up, ready to snarl, but the words catch in his throat. Standing there, with an awkward, sheepish smile, is none other than James Potter, the university’s star rugby player and, unfortunately for Regulus, his brother Sirius’ obnoxiously loud best friend. His presence is both a blessing and a curse—at least he has retrieved the bag, but now Regulus had to deal with him.

James’ smile is lopsided, his hand moving to rub the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. “Sorry about that,” he says, his voice warm and slightly breathless. “I—well, we—” He gestures over his shoulder, and Regulus notices the group of people standing a few feet away: Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius himself, all of them looking somewhat amused by the situation. Sirius has his arms crossed, a grin playing at his lips as if this were all part of some grand joke.

Regulus scowls, his irritation flaring up again as he snatches his bag from James’ hand. “Yeah, whatever,” he mutters tersely, his sharp gaze darting away from James and back toward his bag as he checks for damage.

James, however, doesn’t seem put off by the attitude. If anything, his grin widens, his hazel eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “I’m James, by the way,” he says, as if Regulus hasn’t just dismissed him.

“I know who you are,” Regulus snaps, slinging his bag back over his shoulder. He adjusts the strap with a little more force than necessary and begins walking toward the library, trying to put as much distance between himself and Potter as possible.

But James isn’t easily deterred. He falls into step beside Regulus effortlessly, his grin now teasing. “Oh, so you’ve heard of me?”

Regulus shoots him an irritated glance. “The whole school knows who you are,” he retorts, wishing Potter would take the hint and leave him alone.

James raises his eyebrows, his smirk growing more playful. “Yeah, but this is different.”

Regulus stops mid-step, turning to face James with a raised brow. “How?”

James takes a step closer, his voice dropping slightly as he answers, “Because you’re you.”

Regulus blinks, completely thrown by the response. His brain scrambles to process the sudden shift in tone, but the confusion only deepens his frustration. “Yeah, that makes no fucking sense,” he finally says, shaking his head as he turns on his heel and resumes his walk to the library.

James laughs lightly, easily falling back into step beside him. “Where are you headed?” he asks, his tone friendly, like they are just two mates chatting after class.

“Away from you,” Regulus mutters, keeping his eyes fixed ahead.

“Aw, now why would you say that, love?” James’ tone is lighthearted, but the endearment makes Regulus’ stomach flip involuntarily. He clenches his jaw, fighting the urge to snap back.

Before he can respond, Sirius’ voice rings out from behind them. “Oi, Prongs! Stop flirting with my brother and get back here!”

Regulus and James both turn to see Sirius standing with his hands cupped around his mouth, Remus and Peter standing nearby with amused expressions. James chuckles, giving a playful salute in response. “Right, right. I’m coming.”

He looks back at Regulus, his grin still annoyingly charming. “See you around, Reg,” he said, his voice low and warm, and before Regulus can come up with a retort, James winks at him and jogs back to his group of friends.

Regulus stands frozen for a moment, his heart thudding annoyingly in his chest. His cheeks flushes, much to his dismay, and he scowls at the floor as he hurries the rest of the way to the library. No matter how hard he tries, though, he can’t shake the lingering warmth from James’ attention—or the fluttering in his stomach that just won’t go away.

[bruisedboys]

underneath kitchen lights — james potter x reader

summary — james has a crush on you, lily’s shy and unbelievably sweet coworker. you nurse a crush of your own. (based on all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine!)

or .. you got a slurpee for free, I caught you looking at me, in the 7/11 under fluorescent lights. I spilled mac and cheese on my pants, and thought about kissing you underneath kitchen lights!

contains — shy!fem!reader, florist!reader, strangers-ish to friends to lovers, rugby player!james, modern au, flirting, mutual pining, fluff, james being a total sweetheart, sirius being a twat and a good friend, wolfstar because I couldn’t resist, kissing, lovesick!james, idiots in love tbh, and ummm lots of references to all my ghosts!!

notes — um I am very nervous to post this. but also please don’t let it flop.

fem!reader 8k words

James has an embarrassingly big crush on you. For someone he’s only met twice now, you’re very good at getting stuck in his head. It’s hardly his fault — you’re lovely. You always smell like flowers (which is kind of a given, he supposes. You work with Lily at Harriet’s, the florist’s down the road). You’re very pretty. You’re quiet and a bit shy but you’ve spoken enough that James at least knows you’re polite and friendly.

He’s talked to you a grand total of one time. You’d exchanged a few words and James had been very very quick to fall in love with everything about you. Your hands as you wrung them in front of you — a shy tell, he’d guessed. Your voice, pretty and soft, and how it’d sounded when you said his name. The way you dressed, your hair, the quirk in your mouth when he’d made a joke, the hitch in your breath when he’d shook your hand. He was a goner the second he’d met you.

“Prongs,” drawls Sirius, followed by a hard punch in the bicep. “You know you’re not as subtle as you think.”

James scowls in the general direction of Sirius’ voice. He’d been staring at you, he’s sorry to admit. You’re talking to Lily and you’re smiling about something she’s said and you just look so pretty.

He badly wants to talk to you properly, he has ever since the first time Lily bought you around to a party like this one, but he’s scared of embarrassing himself. He’s not exactly the best flirter when it comes to girls he actually likes. His tongue gets all tied and he can’t say two words without ultimately embarrassing himself. He’s not as much of a charmer as everyone thinks he is. He’s also scared you won’t like him, but he won’t get into that.

“Shut up,” he advises Sirius, rubbing his sore arm. “I don’t even know what you’re on about.”

Sirius, sprawled on the couch next to James, rolls his eyes and snorts. “Yeah, okay,” he says, all sarcasm. “S’not like you’re burning holes into Y/N’s face or anything.”

For a split second James panics. He whirls around to look at you so fast he almost snaps his neck in half. Have you heard Sirius? Do you think James is a total creep now? No — you’re still engrossed in your conversation with Lily. James breathes a sigh of relief but it’s cut short when he realises Sirius is laughing at him.

“Mate,” he guffaws. “You’re hopeless.”

It’s James’ turn to roll his eyes. “Thanks a lot,” he says dryly.

Sirius grins with all his stupidly perfect teeth. “Y’welcome.”

James sighs and scrubs a heavy hand down his face. Maybe he is as hopeless as Sirius thinks. He’s certainly feeling quite hopeless right now. With you across the room and him sitting here unable to make himself get up and talk to you. As subtle as he can he twists to look over the back of the couch again to see what you’re doing. He’s just in time to see you disappearing into the kitchen by yourself, Lily now talking with the other girls by the ranch slider.

His heart rate spikes. This is his chance.

James is getting to his feet before he knows what he’s doing. He dodges another hearty punch from Sirius, pretends not to hear Lily when she asks him where he’s going, and follows you into the kitchen on clumsy feet like a puppy on a leash.

He stumbles into Lily’s kitchen and there you are. Standing with your head in the fridge, the bright white lights cast over your skin. And there’s a lot of skin to look at. Your shoulders, your upper back. There’s a beauty spot on your back, just next to your shoulder blade. Your dress floats just above the halfway point of your thighs. You’ve got really nice legs. James snaps his eyes back up to your head before he can feel too guilty and clears his throat.

You start and then whirl around, eyes wide as saucers, one hand curled around the fridge door.

“Oh,” you say, breathless. “James. You scared me.”

James is so busy melting over the way you say his name that he almost forgets to speak. “Sorry. Shit, I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to.”

You shake your head and your big dangly earrings jingle like bells. “No, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry.”

You smile all soft and pretty and James really thinks he might pass out. He steps forward and leans against the kitchen island as casually as he can, when really he’s using it for support lest he keel over.

You’re looking at him like you’re expecting him to say something. He clears his throat again.

“Um,” he starts lamely. He braves through. “I, um— you look really nice tonight. I wanted to tell you earlier but Lily’s been stuck to you like a leech since you got here.”

You blink at him and James worries he’s said the wrong thing. Maybe this was the worst idea he’s ever had. And he’s had a lot of bad ideas. But then you beam.

“Oh,” you say, shocked like you can’t quite believe it. Which should be impossible, really, James thinks. You’re beautiful. It’s hard not to believe it. “Thank you, James.”

James smiles back. Your shyness at being complimented only fuels him. “You’re welcome. Just don’t tell Lily I called her a leech.” At this, you giggle, and James stammers through his next words, dazed from your laugh. “So, uh— are you looking for a drink?”

He gestures to the fridge, which you seem to have forgotten about, the door hanging wide open under your grip.

“What? Oh,” you say sheepishly, and suddenly you’re embarrassed and staring at your shoes. “No, I’m…” You lift your head and blink at him under your lashes. “Promise you won’t laugh at me?”

James is perplexed, but he’s not gonna laugh at you if you don’t want him to. He licks his dry lips. “Yeah, I promise.”

You smile, then dip your head towards him like you’re sharing secrets. “I was cooling off,” you admit, sheepish. “It got too hot in the living room and Lily’s patio has mosquitos.” You hardly give him time to reply before you’re cringing, saying, “It’s weird, right?” Like you know he’s gonna think it’s strange.

He doesn’t think it’s strange. Well, maybe a little. But he’s been found in worse positions at parties. You look so embarrassed about it James is almost sorry he asked. Almost, because embarrassed you is adorable. You lean back and scrub your neck awkwardly, bracelets clanking on your wrist.

“No, I know,” he groans sympathetically, nodding vehemently. “Lily really needs a mosquito net or something, so we can open the damn door without getting eaten alive. Can I join you?”

You look baffled for a moment, and then shy all over again.

“You want to join me while I stick my head in the fridge?” You ask, an amusement to your tone that James adores.

James shrugs. “Why not?”

You smile outright then. “Okay,” you say, stepping aside so there’s more room in front of the fridge for him. “C’mon, then.”

James practically skips over to you. The moment he steps into your space he can smell your lovely scent. Flowery and sweet, something floral like hyacinth mixed with something sweet like honey. It’s intoxicating. He feels like he could drown in it. But there’s no time for drowning, not when your hand wraps around his elbow and pulls him into your side, your feet shuffling to accommodate him.

“Move closer,” you urge shyly. “You gotta get the full experience.”

James moves closer. So close his arm brushes yours and he could hold your hand if he wanted to. He very much wants to. He imagines your skin is as soft as it looks.

The coldness of the refrigerator washes over him and it’s actually really nice. Even though he can be a total party animal sometimes, he understands why you would be here instead of in there. It’s quiet in here. Nice and cool. No lingering scent of heavy wine. No Sirius to tease him and no Marlene to badger him with questions about his love life.

“This is nice,” he says quietly, over the gentle buzz of the fridge.

You giggle softly. James thinks he’d like to make you laugh a million times over. “Isn’t it?”

“Mm,” James hums. “I should do this at parties more often.”

You laugh again, delighted at his joking. “You should. Then I wouldn’t be so lonely when I escape to the kitchen.”

James laughs too. He can’t quite believe his luck right now, squished in front of Lily’s refrigerator with you, elbow to elbow, the rest of his friends and the party long forgotten.

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” he says, smiling big.

The next time James sees you, it doesn’t go quite as well as previously. To put it simply, it’s a disaster.

First of all, he’s late. Remus and Sirius are having a housewarming party at their new place and he’s had training all day so he’d forgotten all about it. It’s not until 9:30, an hour after the party was supposed to start, that he’s climbing in his car after training and his phone buzzes.

He picks it up, exhausted, expecting one of his teammates. Instead it’s a string of messages from Remus.

You’re late James!!!!

We started without u. Where r u????

Sirius is gonna wring ur neck

James scrolls through the messages with a mixture of confusion and dread. Confusion because at first he has absolutely no idea what Remus is talking about. Dread when he realises.

He speeds all the way home, showers at lightning speed, pulls on a rumpled shirt and a pair of jeans that he’s sure aren’t clean, and he’s out the door within ten minutes of getting home. Still, by the time he gets to Sirius and Remus’ place it’s almost 10. His hair looks a mess but it’ll have to do. He doesn’t even think about the fact that you could possibly be there. That is, until he’s finished apologising profusely to his friends and Sirius mentions you. James perks up from where he’d been slumping on the couch, feeling exhausted and sorry for himself.

“What?” He asks, too loud. He tries to tamp it down but honestly, it doesn’t really work. He’s still buzzing with nervous energy when he asks, “Is she here?”

Sirius grins, looking uncharacteristically cat-like. “Uh— yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. His stupid grin only grows and James thinks he’d quite like to punch his teeth out. “She came with Lily. Moons thought we should invite her. She’s a lovely girl, isn’t she?”

James knows he’s teasing but can’t quite bring himself to care — the prospect of seeing you has demolished all other feelings of pathetic-ness. He leaps off the couch and makes his way to the kitchen, guessing that’s where you’ll be, a barely touched drink in his hand and Sirius’ teasing following him all the way. He’s so busy fixing his shirt before he sees you that he doesn’t see you. He walks right into you on the threshold of the kitchen.

“James!” You gasp, stopping short.

James’ drink, to his horror, has spilt all down your front. His glass, previously full, is now half empty, the rest of it splattered all over your white top.

You barely have time to be surprised before he’s apologising.

“Shit,” he curses, mind blanking. His hands go to fix the damage before he realises he probably shouldn’t touch your chest, where his drink is now seeping into your top and showing no signs of stopping. He pulls his hands back lamely. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Y/N. Oh gosh. I’m so dumb, I—“

Your rush to forgive him is almost as quick as his apology. “No!” You shake your head and it’s awfully cute despite the situation. “No, it’s okay, James. I should’ve been watching where I was going.”

James grimaces. He tries not to look at the dark red stain that looks like blood on your white blouse. It is quite possibly the worst thing he could’ve spilt on you.

“It’s okay,” you say again, softer, reassuring, probably clocking the pathetic look on his face.

“Don’t, angel,” James says, shaking his head. “S’my fault.” He grabs your elbow gently and starts to pull you out to the living room, seeking Remus, who he knows will have a spare t-shirt that’s at least clean. “C’mon, I’ll find you something else to wear.”

“Wait, James. Wait.” You plant your feet in the doorway of the kitchen and James stops walking. He looks back at you, feeling guilty, hopeless, confused, and a bit endeared by you still, all at once.

“What?” He asks as gently as he can when he’s feeling like such a loser.

“I don’t wanna cause any trouble,” you say, biting down on your bottom lip so hard James is sure it hurts. You’re shy, he remembers. Quiet and polite. You probably don’t like people making a fuss over you, even though you should really. You’re pretty enough that people should be making a fuss over you all the time. “I think I’ll just go home, s’only a ten minute walk. I was going to leave soon, anyway.”

James frowns. “I can’t let you do that,” he says, shaking his head. He also can’t let you feel uncomfortable. He conjures a compromise. “Look, how about you wait here while I go ask Remus for a spare shirt? And then I’ll walk you home to make it up to you.”

He knows walking you home isn’t near enough to make up for ruining your top. But it’s the best he can do right now.

“But you just got here, didn’t you?” you say, frowning yourself.

James shrugs. That’s hardly a problem for him. “Don’t worry. I see those two asshats every day of my life, sweetheart.”

You still look unsure but James isn’t changing his mind. He’s going to walk you home if it’s the last thing he does. But first, something for you to change into. He leaves you in the kitchen and finds Remus, whom he asks for a shirt, to which Remus says, “What’s that for?” too loudly.

James explains what happened dejectedly. He’s not exactly surprised when Sirius laughs at him for it.

It’s a quiet walk to your place. You live close, which is both good and bad. Good because it means every time James is at Remus and Sirius’s, he’ll know you’re only ten minutes away. Bad … well, for the same reason.

James tries his best to fill the silence with easy conversation. It’s not hard, especially when you’re so sweet and kind and answer his questions so pleasantly. You’re easy to talk to. You don’t laugh at him when he slips on his words. You don’t make him wait for answers. You ask him questions, too, timid as you are about it.

James finds he enjoys your company even more than he was expecting. You’re like a breath of fresh air. You’ve got the radiance of an early spring morning and the softness to go with it.

It’s safe to say he’s disappointed when you come to a stop in front of your place.

“This is me,” you say, fishing your keys out of your purse. You’re in one of Remus’ band tees and James thinks you look much better than Remus does in it. As much as he loves Remus. He realises he’s staring too late, his eyes following you as you walk up your front steps.

You unlock your door and then look back at him, timid.

“Did you want to come in?” You ask, sweet in your shyness.

James would very much like to come in. He also thinks he might fall on his face if he spends much more time with you. He’s already dizzy on his feet and he’s been with you all of fifteen minutes.

“No, no, that’s okay,” he says as kindly as he can. “I should probably get back, or Sirius’ll have my head.” At least he knows where you live now. In a totally not creepy way.

He steps forward to take your wrist in his hand, his thumb pressing into your pulse point. He can feel your heartbeat. It’s not quite as fast as his feels but pretty close.

“I’m really really sorry about your top,” he tells you. He spreads his fingers over your forearm, your skin warm as late summer under his touch. “Can I do anything to make up for it? Buy you a new one?”

He wasn’t joking, but you giggle, your face lighting up, your eyes crinkling at the corners. James feels something akin to a mad swarm of butterflies in his ribcage.

“No, James,” you laugh, breathless and lilting. Your free hand lands on his forearm and his skin burns under your touch. “It’s okay, really.”

“Okay,” James breathes. His head spins as you squeeze his arm. Your skin is impossibly soft. You smell so nice. “But, seriously, let me know if there’s anything I can do. It was such a nice top, it looked lovely on you.”

You flush like James knew you would. He’s slowly discovering he likes making you flustered more than he’ll admit.

“Thanks, James,” you say, and James imagines if he touched your face you’d be burning. “But, really, it’s okay. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah. See you around, angel.”

It’s only after you close the door and James is at the bottom of the steps that he realises he should’ve asked for your number. He really is as hopeless as Sirius says.

-

James Potter is on your mind most of the time. You can’t help it. You’re not above admitting you have a crush on him. You are above admitting how big said crush is.

He’s really one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. Sure, you don’t meet a lot of people. But you’re sure if you did he’d still be one of the best. He’s kind, he’s funny, he’s unbelievably charming. He’s a bit awkward sometimes and you like that, it makes you feel better about your own social ineptitude.

It also helps that he’s very very handsome. You would look at him all day if you could. He’s all dark, velvety skin, inky curls that you’ve imagined weaving your fingers through more times than you can count. Deep brown eyes turned bright with his ever-present smile. Thick eyelashes, a lovely sloping nose, a quirk to his mouth that you think you could get drunk on. He dresses well, too, though you’re sure he’d look just as good in a hoodie and sweatpants. Or nothing at all. You’d squashed that thought before it could go any further.

You don’t even mind that he spilled wine all over your nicest top. Sure, the stain is never gonna come out. It’s sitting in your closet, ruined. Embarrassing as it is, you smile every time you see it. James had made up for it tenfold anyway, walking you home and telling you he was sorry about a hundred times. It would be hard to not forgive him.

“Y/N?”

There’s a call of your name from the office door. You’re in here on your lunch break, not really eating more than you are thinking about James. Margaret, the older lady who owns Harriet’s but only comes in Thursdays and Tuesdays, is poking her head through the door.

“Hi, dear,” she says. “Sorry to disturb you, but there’s a customer out here asking for you? I can tell him to come back later, if you’d like, but he seems quite insistent.”

He. Of course, your mind flies straight to James. Which is ridiculous, you know, but it was already parked and idle at James, anyway.

“He’s asking for me?” You ask, perplexed. You don’t usually get personally requested by customers. And if it is James, you’re sure he’d ask for Lily instead.

“Yes, dear,” Margaret smiles, and she looks amused.

You get up because it’s your job, not because you’re hoping like hell it’s James. You put down your barely-eaten sandwich, brush past Margaret with a small ‘thank you’ and emerge into the shop.

There, standing at the counter, is James Potter.

“Y/N!” He says as soon as you emerge. He’s bouncy. Frazzled. You would even say excited. “Hi, lovely. I’m really sorry to barge in on you like this, were you on your break?”

“Oh, um, no. It just ended,” you lie. You still had a good ten minutes left. Not that you’re gonna tell him that.

James’ smile makes the lie worth it. “Perfect. ‘Cos I need your help.”

You think you physically perk up. Like a cat when it smells food is near. You hope he doesn’t notice.

“Okay,” you smile. You’re happy to help if it’s James you’re helping. “With that?”

James explains that he needs a bouquet, your best work, better than a boring one you can get at the grocery store because he really really needs this person he’s giving it to to like it. Your smile fades at this. At the fact that he’s getting flowers for someone else. He won’t tell you who this someone else is. He also won’t tell you why he’s giving it to them. You’re sorry to assume it’s a girl he likes. Possibly Lily? Maybe that’s why he asked for you and not her. You wouldn’t be surprised, they’re close and she’s gorgeous.

Of course, you help him anyway. You recommend flowers that last the longest, colours that go together, which ones smell the best. He’s asks you what your favourites are and ends up going with those, saying he trusts your judgment.

You have to admit it’s all very endearing. And you have so much fun helping him that by the time he leaves, arms full of a huge bouquet made up of all your picks of flowers, you’re beaming. Despite the daunting fact that he’s walking out of your shop with a bouquet for someone else.

Margaret appears once he’s gone. She’s got this big smile on her face that you can’t quite make sense of.

“He’s a handsome one,” she muses. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Your cheeks go redder than the roses on the shelf behind you.

Much later, you’re in the comfort of your small home, a bowl of steaming hot mac and cheese in your lap while the TV drones on. It’s some sort of romantic comedy that you can’t say you’re very interested in. Despite the lead male being very attractive. You’re about to change programmes when there’s a knock on your door.

You start. Nobody ever comes over. You don’t have many friends, and the ones that you do have, you tend to go over to their places, rather than the other way around. You’re so busy worrying about who it is that you haven’t even stood up before there’s another knock.

You get up off the couch, mac and cheese forgotten on the coffee table. You give your outfit a once over. You’re in sleep shorts and a hoodie that’s too big for you. Not your best work, but it’ll have to do. You fix your hair with little to no care and then open the door.

It’s James. You gape. You definitely should’ve paid more attention to your hair.

“James,” you say.

He beams right back, seemingly unaware of your sleepy appearance. “Hi, sweetheart.”

You stare at him. He looks pretty as ever. It’s only just going on sunset, and the colourful sky casts streaks of orange and golden yellow over his pretty face. The last bits of sun tangle themselves into his curls and drown themselves in his eyes. He’s dressed casual, but he still manages to pull it off, like you’d thought. A hoodie and jeans, a pair of beat up converse. He’s hiding something behind his back and you think you hear cellophane crinkle when he moves.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he’s saying. He doesn’t have your number. But Lily does. Is it crazy to think he’s maybe asked her for it? “Is this a bad time?”

His kindness reminds you how to speak. “Uh— um, no. S’not a bad time, I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Are you— um, did you want to come in?”

You’re rambling, you know. He hasn’t even told you why he’s here and you’re asking him to come in.

James smiles kindly and it makes it all better. He’s good at that. At making you feel okay for being a bit of an awkward loser (your own words, not his, of course.)

“I’d love to come in,” he says, all smiles. “But first, I have something for you.” He pulls whatever he’s been hiding out from behind his back and offers it to you between your chest and his. “To say I’m sorry about your top.”

You blink. It’s a bouquet. It’s the bouquet. The one you’d helped him put together. The one that has all your favourite flowers and colours and smells because despite you thinking it was for someone else, you’d still wanted the best for James. You blink again.

“James,” you say, a little breathless, a lot speechless. “They’re for me?”

James laughs and you feel dizzy for a moment. He’s got a really nice laugh. “F’course there for you, sweetheart. Who else?”

He makes you take them from him, one of his hands guiding yours around the stalks. His skin is warm and sets yours on fire. You’re surprised the bouquet doesn’t go up in flames when you take it from him.

“I-I don’t know,” you stutter. “I thought …” you don’t finish your sentence. You’d thought they were for some other girl who’d caught his eye. You change tactics mid sentence, “They’re lovely, James.”

“I know they are, dove. You picked ‘em out.”

You giggle then. He’s the sweetest boy on the planet, you decide. He let you pick out your own flowers, and you didn’t even know it. You’ve never properly been given flowers before, despite working at a florist’s. It’s a new feeling. Like a star burning in your chest that doesn’t seem to want to go out. It hovers in you ribcage and stays there, buzzing madly.

“Thank you,” you say, lifting your eyes to his. You find he’s already gazing right back at you. There’s a rogue curl falling over his forehead that you’d love to push out of the way. “Really. I love them.”

James flashes you a boyish grin. “Good, ‘cos if you didn’t, I’d have to have a word with the girl who chose them.”

You’re still beaming when he comes inside. He follows you into the kitchen, where you find a vase for the flowers. You set about taking them out of their packaging, cutting the stalks and putting them gently in the glass vase filled with water.

James watches you and you can tell he’s trying to be nonchalant about it all, about being in your space, but his eyes scan your kitchen like it’s a map he’s trying to figure out. Your mismatched mugs on the counter. Your magnets and Polaroids and receipts on the fridge. Your overgrown plants on the windowsill.

You carry your flowers to your small living room and put them in the dead center of your coffee table. The bouquet is so big it would block most of your view of the TV if you sat on the couch. You hardly care. You’d rather look at them than the TV, anyway.

Setting the flowers down, you spot your half eaten mac and cheese and hope James doesn’t take you for a slob. You’re lucky he didn’t catch you on a Friday night. You’d be drowning in ice cream, probably.

“Are you hungry?” You ask him, half hoping he’ll say no, because who in their right mind asks their crush if they want macaroni and cheese? It’s so lame, but you can’t take it back now. “I have mac and cheese, but that’s about it, sorry.”

You cringe and wish you’d held your tongue, but James beams.

“I’d love some mac n’ cheese,” he says. “Unless it’s boxed, that shit tastes like cardboard.”

You get him some mac and cheese, glad you made it yourself, gladder you haven’t resorted to boxed food just yet. The two of you sit in the kitchen on your tall kitchen stools under your golden lights and eat. James is easier to be around than anyone you’ve ever met. He makes you feel special but not to the point where it’s too overwhelming. He’s kind and he’s golden, he acts like you’re the only person he ever wants to talk to.

Watching him eat in your home is more of a pleasure for you than you’d like to admit. He compliments your cooking. He says he likes the bowl he’s got, which is a white one with pink flowers all over it that you bought at a market ages ago. He gets a string of cheese dangling from his lip and makes a dorky face trying to get it into his mouth without using his fingers. You think you’d like to kiss him. His lips all puckered and eyes crossed as he attempts to scoop the cheese into his waiting mouth.

You’re so busy laughing at him that you don’t notice your own bowl balancing precariously on the edge of the counter. When you go back to take another spoonful, your hand knocks the bowl and it goes tumbling. Right into your lap.

“Shit,” you curse, gasping when a dollop of hot pasta lands half on your thigh and half on your shorts. The sauce spreads like wildfire over the fabric of your sleep shorts. Why do things keep spilling on your clothes when James is around? It’s becoming a theme. Your horror grows when the bowl clatters to the floor and while it doesn’t smash, it spills mac & cheese everywhere. “Oh, shit, that’s embarrassing. Um.”

You bend to clean up your mess but James beats you to it.

“Here, let me,” he says. He slides off his chair and is quick to start scooping up the ruined pasta.

“Sorry,” you stutter, standing helplessly as James cleans up your mess for you.

“Don’t be,” James shrugs and looks up at you, his cheeks dimpling as he smiles kindly. “Go change, I’ll sort this out.”

You feel an overwhelming rush of gratitude and affection for him that makes you want to kiss him stupid. You don’t. Instead you go down to your room and find something to change into. Seeing as he’s already seen you in your sleep shorts, you suppose your checkered flannel pyjama pants aren’t really much worse. Nothing can be more embarrassing than what’s just happened, you decide.

By the time you’ve changed (plus spent a lot of extra time staring at yourself in the mirror, practicing your smile), James has cleaned up the spill and is washing your bowls in the sink. You decide then and there that you like him a lot more than you’d initially thought.

You emerge into the kitchen on light footing. You feel like a magnet being drawn to him like this. It’s bizzare, how much you want to be around him, no matter how shy he makes you. It’s something you’ve never experienced before. A rip in the ocean calling your name. You know of the danger but you don’t really care. You ignore the signs because he’s James and you don’t think he has a mean bone in his body. The warning signs basically don’t exist.

“Thank you, James,” you say, standing on the threshold of the kitchen.

James flashes you a big smile, up to his arms in soap and suds, scrubbing away at a bowl. He looks like a house husband. It’s almost more than your heart can take. “That’s okay. Hey, nice pyjamas. Y’look good.”

You can tell by his tone he’s not teasing. He’s being genuine, which is somehow worse than if he’d been teasing. Your smile is so big it hurts.

-

James is gonna kiss you tonight. He’s sure of it.

So far, all of his advances have gone well. Perfect, even. Unless you count the drink-spilling incident, but if it hadn’t been for that he’d probably never have found the courage to get you alone again.

He’s taken you out to lunch once. He’s been into your work twice, not including the first time. He’s invited you to his rugby game tonight, to which you’d said yes more enthusiastically than he’d expected. It’s not exactly a date, per say. But he’d wanted to see you today and he had a game and his coach would blow his head off if he’d missed it for a girl. No matter how lovely said girl is.

He’s waxed poetic about you to Sirius and Remus more times than he can count. He’s yet to kiss you. Sirius thinks this is beyond absurd.

“So you haven’t even kissed her yet?” He asks, incredulous. He’s in his rugby kit, hair up in braids, chugging a Gatorade though the game hasn’t even started yet. “What’s the hold up, mate?”

James groans. Sirius is yet to understand that some people don’t like to jump into the deep end before they’re ready. “I don’t want to scare her off,” he explains, straightening up from where he’d been tying his laces.

“Oh yeah, you’re reaaally scary, Prongsie,” Sirius drawls, dripping in sarcasm. He rolls his eyes and then clasps James’ shoulder. He’s surprisingly and uncharacteristically genuine when he says, “Look, I think she likes you enough that kissing her won’t scare her off.”

James blinks and looks up at his friend. “You think she likes me?”

Sirius makes a face. “Are you kidding? What other girl would want to watch you eat shit in a field with a dozen other sweaty guys?”

And he’s back, James thinks. Trust Sirius to be a sweetheart one second and as asshole the next.

Soon enough James is out on the field and he wants to say his mind is on the game and not you but he’d be lying.

For the first five minutes he’s distracted trying to spot you in the stands. Then the next ten minutes are spent trying not to stare at you. You’re with Remus, whom James is hoping isn’t relaying anything he’s ever said to him about you.

You look as though, to James’ extreme delight, that you’ve dressed up for this. In a pretty dress and a jacket that borders on being so big on you it swallows you up. Sure, you’d still looked pretty drop-dead in your pyjamas the other night. But this is another level of gorgeous.

The first chance he gets he bounds over to you, ignoring his coaches instructions to ‘stay with the team’. Most of the team has scattered for half time, anyway. James makes a beeline for you.

“You came!” He shouts as soon as you’re in shouting distance.

You grin and wave at him, brilliant and dazzling and so damn pretty in the early evening sun. You’re not far up the stadium and James is grateful he doesn’t have to climb too many steps — though he’d definitely climb all the way to the top row to see you if he had to.

“Hi, James,” you say, looking happy as a clam to see him.

James beams back. He wonders vaguely if he looks as lovesick as he’s feeling. He can’t even bring himself to care if he does. He’s lucky Remus is nowhere to be seen — probably loving on Sirius somewhere.

“Hi, angel,” James says, smiling around his words, which come out all sticky-sounding and fond. “I’m so glad you came.”

You beam and rock on your heels, looking one part shy and two parts delighted, your hands clasped in front of you like you’re not sure what to do now.

“Can I give you a hug?” James asks. “I’m so happy to see you, I might explode if you say no.”

He’s joking, of course. Or maybe not so much. You nod, a tad vehement, James notices smugly.

“Yes, please,” you say, breathless.

James steps into your space, heartbeat a mile a minute. You smell like flowers again. Lavender, he thinks. He definitely doesn’t smell anywhere near as good. “You’re sure I’m not too sweaty and gross?”

You shrug. “I don’t care, James.”

“You should. You look lovely.”

You make a noise that sounds half pained and half pleased and it makes James’ heart skyrocket.

“Can you just hug me?” You ask, a hint of desperation in your tone that’s actually much more than a hint but James is trying to be a gentleman. “Please?”

James thinks if you keep this up (by this, he means, acting as though maybe you like him as much as he likes you), he’ll die on the spot. He hugs you. For his own and your sake. Wraps you up in a big strong hug that’s so passionate he accidentally lifts you off the ground slightly. You don’t seem to mind. Your arms weave around his neck like they were meant to and you hook your chin over his shoulder and go all melty.

James almost moans. He can’t believe how perfectly you fit in his arms. How your body melds into his so nicely. He’s big and firm and loud and you’re quiet and small in your own way. But it works, and James is so glad it does.

“How was work, lovely?” He says into your hair. Your hair, which smells like coconut and something sweeter.

“It was okay.” Your voice is quiet but you sound just as pleased as he does to be wrapped in each other’s arms. “Lily says good luck.”

“Hey!” This is Sirius, jogging towards the stands and the, for want of a better word, lovefest. “Why don’t I ever get hugs like that?”

James releases you but keeps a good hold on your waist, twisting to meet Sirius. “What? You want one too, Pads?”

He lets go of you and holds his arms out for a hug, half joking but also half serious.

“Not from you!” Sirius scoffs, backing away from James like his hug will give him an incurable disease. “From your pretty cheerleader over there.”

Sirius plants his hands in his hips and nods his head towards you where you’re standing behind James. James doesn’t need to look to know Sirius has probably made you embarrassed.

“She doesn’t want to hug you,” he says dryly, in an attempt to save you from his obnoxious friend. “Where’s your boyfriend? You can hug him instead.”

Sirius scowls but it doesn’t last long. You brush past James and it takes him a second to realise what’s happening.

“I’ll hug you, Sirius,” you’re saying sweetly. “C’mere.”

And to everyone’s surprise, you hug Sirius. James finds it both endearing and highly annoying. Annoying because Sirius is smirking at him over your shoulder, his hands on your lower back. Endearing because it’s apparent you’re trying to make friends with James’ friends and he couldn’t be happier. The hug doesn’t last quite as long as yours and his, though. And Sirius doesn’t quite lift you off the ground like James did.

James watches, reluctantly fond, as Sirius pulls away and smiles at you all kind and un-Sirius-like.

“Thank you, m’lovely,” he says, swooping down to kiss your cheek. James shouldn’t feel jealous, because Sirius kisses everyone on the cheek, but he does anyway.

His jealousy quickly fades when you practically skip back over to him, all smiles.

“Sorry about him,” James says quickly. He’s very used to apologising for his friends.

“No, that’s okay,” you shake your head and then take James’ forearm in your hand unthinkingly. Heat licks all up James’ arm.

“Y/N,” he says, sounding more confident than he feels. “Do you—?”

The shriek of his coach’s whistle cuts him off. Time to get back on the field, it says. James groans, long suffering, throwing his head back like he’s been resigned to the worst fate in the world. You giggle and it makes it all better.

James’ team loses the game. It’s embarrassing and then it’s not, because you bound up to him afterwards and give him a hug even better than the one at half time, gushing about how good he was, telling him it doesn’t matter that he lost because he played amazing, anyway.

He sure feels like a winner as he walks with you to the parking lot, his duffel bag swept to his wrong side so he can walk as close to you as possible.

“I didn’t know you were so good.” You’re still gushing and James thinks he’s never blushed more in his life. “I mean, not that I didn’t expect it. You just never told me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not Sirius,” James murmurs, feeling overly feverish.

“What? What’s that mean?”

James gestures vaguely with his hands. “I don’t go around bragging, is what it means. And I’m not that good. We’re just a local team, babe.”

It’s your turn to flush. Head to foot you go all shy. He thinks it’s the pet name that did it. And maybe the fact that he’s pointed out your gushing.

“Right,” you say to your shoes. “Well, I think you should play for the country, is all I’m saying.”

James laughs, delighted and a bit startled at your joking, but mostly just sick as a dog in love with you. “Really? Wow, you should tell my coach that, sweetheart. I think he’d totally agree.”

You pick up on his sarcasm and burst into giggles that make James’ chest want to explode. He realizes you’ve almost reached his car and puts his plan into action.

“Hey, did you drive here?” He asks.

You look up at him and James thinks he sees an inkling of hope in your pretty eyes. “No, I caught the bus. Why?”

“Did you want to go get Slurpees with me? I saw a 7/11 near your place the other night.” Then, because he really wants you to say yes, “I’m paying.”

Maybe it’s James’ wishful thinking but he’s pretty sure you light up like a Christmas tree. He really thinks if you keep doing things like this his head is gonna get too big for his body. You beam, looking like an angel on earth in the last fragments of sunlight, skin painted in an array of bleeding golds and pinks and oranges.

“Yeah, okay,” you nod. “Except you don’t have to pay for me, James, I have my card.”

James shakes his head, grinning as he fishes his keys from his bag. “Nah, don’t worry. Pretty girls get slurpees for free.”

He’s ninety-eight percent sure you freeze up like a block of ice as he unlocks his car. He has the generosity to not mention it.

The drive to the 7/11 closest to your place is quiet. But good quiet. James puts on the radio and is delighted when you start humming along like he’s not even there, your fingers tapping along the window where you’ve rolled it down, the wind brushing over your pretty face. He can’t quite get enough of you. Even just driving in silence with you feels like cloud nine. He’s enamored. Totally lovelorn. He’s surprised he can even drive straight.

When you get there he parks the car and then tells you to wait so he can open your door for you. He holds your hand to guide you into the 7/11. It feels like walking on air.

You both greet the guy at the cashier, you much more shyly, but James is learning you’re nothing if not polite. It’s practically empty inside, which James is glad for. How is he supposed to kiss you if there’s a bunch of strangers around? He leads you over to the slurpee machine with the excitement of a kid in a candy store.

“What flavour do you feel like?” He asks, grabbing a cup for you.

“Um,” you lick your lips and James wonders, not for the first time, how it would be to kiss them. “Grape, I think.”

“Grape?” He wrinkles his nose in pretense. “I’m more of a cherry guy, but I’ll let it slide ‘cos I like you.”

You giggle and flush, to James' extreme delight. He lets go of your hand to fill your cup for you, all the way to the top. He pops on a lid and a straw and passes it to you, cold condensation dripping over his fingers like raindrops.

“Thank you,” you say softly, taking the cup from him, your fingers soft as they brush his.

James gives you a big smile in place of a you’re welcome, then preoccupies himself with filling his own cup. He can feel your eyes on him all the while. Practically burning holes into the side of his face. His face, which feels like it’s on fire. He finishes filling his cup and shoves a lid on.

“Have I got something on my face?” He asks without looking at you, definitely teasing but he thinks you can take it.

You groan and punch him in the arm. Punch isn’t really the right word. It’s more of a brush of your knuckles. James hardly feels a thing. “James.”

James laughs, delighted at your reaction. “What?” He chuckles, picking a straw and turning to look at you. “You were—“

But you’re gone, turning into the candy section just in time for James to see the back of your jacket disappear. He follows you, grinning like mad.

“Y/N,” he says, sing-song.

“James,” you copy, with half the enthusiasm but twice the sweetness. He can almost hear you rolling your eyes.

James can’t help it, he snags your jacket in his fingers and pulls. You squeal as he twists you to face him, his hand coming to hook around your waist. Your slurpees get crushed in between your chests. James can feel the coldness of his soaking into his shirt but he hardly cares. You’re so close he could kiss you. He’d like to. It’s what he’s been trying to do all evening.

You’re gasping, breathless from the closeness and his sudden attack. “James,” you say again, panting. “What are you doing?”

James shrugs. “Nuthin’. Did you want some candy?”

You swallow and adjust your grip on your cup where it’s pressed to his chest. You’re staring at his lips. He’s staring at yours, too.

“No,” you say, your pretty eyes flickering from his eyes to his mouth and back again. “I don’t want candy.”

James licks his lips, partly because he thinks he’s about to kiss you, but mostly to tease you. “Then what do you want?”

Your eyes follow the slow movement of his tongue. “Um.”

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asks, softer now. Less taunting. More sincere.

You stare at him. “We’re in the middle of a 7/11, James,” you chastise. But you don’t turn him down.

“So? There’s no one in here but us.”

He inches closer. His slurpee is probably spilling over with how much he’s squashing it but he can’t bring himself to check. He’s too transfixed by you, the hopeful look on your pretty features, eyes blown wide, lips slightly parted.

“Okay,” you breathe, hardly a word at all.

“Okay, what?” James says back, just as quiet. “I can kiss you?”

“Yes,” you nod once. Your hand ghosts over James’ elbow and he hopes you’ll grab it when he does finally kiss you. “Please.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing than that. He kisses you, and the very first thing he thinks is that he’s bitten off more than he can chew. Thrown himself in the deep end, chum for the sharks. Because it’s glorious. It’s better than he ever imagined, better than anything he could’ve conjured up in his mind. You taste like grape slurpee, sugary and sweet. You’re tentative like you always are, but it doesn’t mean you hold back. You let him kiss you as hard as he pleases, tilting your head up to meet him, gripping his elbow with your free hand like you never want to let go.

He kisses you firm but careful, passionate so you know how much he likes you but soft enough so you know he’s okay to go slow if you need to.

Soon enough the moment is ruined — James shouldn’t have expected anything less. The guy at the cashier is wondering aloud if James is planning on ever paying for the Slurpees now dripping condensation into both of your clothes and hands.

James sighs and goes to pull out his wallet, but not before pressing another kiss to your smiling mouth.

-

feedback and reblogs are very very appreciated! please please lmk if u liked it (but not if u didn’t ahahah) xx

[daenysx]

hii!! i just noticed you're receiving requests, so here's mine!!

a smutty one shot with sub!james potter maybe? it can be any plot, I just can't get enough of him being subby🤭 please and thank youu🤍

thank you for requesting, this is my first time writing for james [and a sub!male character, so i'm not sure if this is good enough :) ] i hope you enjoy! nsfw. requests are open!

modern au. james potter x fem!reader

glossy eyes of a pretty boy

you are almost asleep when something starts buzzing on your nightstand. you try to blink the sleep away by sitting on bed and taking your phone in your hand. james's name is shiny on the dark screen, you answer his call quickly, and put the phone on your ear.

"jamie?" you ask sleepily.

"hey, angel." he says, he sounds tired. "i'm sorry, were you sleeping?"

you rub your eyes, sleep fades away when your boyfriend sounds so unlike himself. "no, no, that's fine. are you okay?"

james almost stammers, unsure for the rest of this conversation. suddenly he doesn't feel so confident to act like his usual self at the moment. "can i come over?" he asks, avoiding the last minute hesitation. "it's just- you can say no of course, it's late, but i'm-"

"no, no." you're quick to shut him up, he's just being lovely. "please, come over."

he thanks you silently and you end the call with a frowny look on your face. there is something wrong with james's voice. you leave your bed, he won't take long to be here, and you wait for the doorbell in the living room.

you open the door as you hear his footsteps outside, and there he is. your lovely boyfriend walks into your apartment with tired legs, he doesn't even seem to have his usual strength as he takes you in his arms for a hug. you wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers are quick to rub the back of his neck. you press gentle nails on his skin, right where his skin meets his hair, and he melts into the hug.

"are you okay, baby?" you ask, trying for an eye contact. "you're worrying me, what's wrong?"

james kisses your cheek before he closes the door and leans his back to it. "i had an argument with the coach." he says, quietly. "it was awful. he thinks i'm not giving my best to the team. he thinks i have the potential to be better but i'm not trying enough."

you cup his cheeks instantly, eyes wide and heart clenching. "no, baby, no." you want to beat his coach even though the guy is twice your size. "you know none of it is true."

they are not true, and james should know that. he is doing his best, always working together with the rugby team, he is constantly at practices, he gives the strength of his mind and body to the sport he loves. you are sure it was just an argument made of his coach's strict strategies to get his players motivated, it has happened to another guy on james's team before, but it doesn't make any excuses for your boyfriend's poorly state right now.

you stroke james's cheeks and he gives in to your touch. you raise on your tiptoes, pressing a kiss on his upper lip. you take his hand and lead him to your bedroom. he kicks his shoes quickly, following your steps.

you sit on the edge of the bed as you pull james in front of you, he stands between your legs as he takes his glasses off and puts them on your nightstand. you push his shirt upwards, kissing his abdomen fondly, your lips curling on his skin as you suck a little spot. you pull him from his belt loops and james almost loses his mind.

you tug on his shirt. "can you take this off for me?"

he nods, streching his muscles to take off his shirt. he looks back at you, you're unzipping his pants as you press kisses on his skin. his muscles tighten under your lips, you are in control. you pull his pants down and he takes them off too.

he stands in front of you, melts under every kiss and every touch. "can i-" he takes a breath. "can i take this off?" his fingers are on the sides of his boxer, waiting for an approval before he acts. you look up to him, asking for a simple word. "please, angel."

you nod, smiling. he is your perfect boy. "of course, jamie, go ahead."

he listens, taking off his underwear and his socks before you pull him into bed with you. the sheets are still warm from your earlier slumber, james exhales tiredly as he lays facedown on your bed. you rub his back, fingertips grazing his skin rather playfully. you kiss the side of his neck, his curls spread on your pillow. he looks so, so beautiful.

you keep touching him, realizing he is lifting his hips and pressing them back to bed for a little friction. you smile, letting him look at you. "come here, baby." you pull james on your body and he leans into your touch. he is lying on his side, looking at you through glossy eyes. "let me treat you right." you say, fondly. "you deserve it, right? tell me you deserve it, jamie."

he nods, getting even closer to you in bed. "i deserve it." he is quiet but you can do with it.

"there you go." you kiss his forehead. "i'll take care of you until you forget everything he ever said. he's lying anyway, why should we care what he says, right baby?"

he nods. "yeah." you nod encouragingly. "yeah, none of it was true."

"you don't have to think about anything now." you whisper. "just focus on me."

he nods obediently. you find a comfortable position on bed, you can hold james and touch him with your free hand. you bring your hand to his chest, his abdomen, and between his legs. he is getting harder with the passing seconds, begging silently for a relief before he falls asleep.

you take his achingly hard cock in your hand, softly stroking it. he is quiet when he moans, just leaning into your touch. you keep stroking him gently, until you get a word from his lips. "please."

"you're okay, baby." you say. "everything's okay."

he nods, moving his hips against your hand. your other hand strokes his hair, and it's so gentle. he gives in, your touch brings him back. you keep moving your hand, soft and rough. your fingers graze the tip of his cock, he's sensitive, and he moans your name.

you touch him, his hands grab your waist as he holds onto you. "you're doing so good for me." you kiss his hair. "you're being so good. always the best."

james buries his face to your neck, inhaling your scent and looking for something to keep him steady. he moves his hips to your hand again, muscles streching in the warmth of the bed, your soft hand grabbing him gently. he wants to stay in the moment, he wants to stay here forever. he feels so safe and secured, trusting you to take care of him.

"i'm-" he kisses your neck, tries for words. "i'm so close."

"i know, baby." you say. "will you be good for me? will you come for me?"

he nods. "yes, yes, i will." he buries himself closer like it's possible. "i'll be good, please."

you move your hand a little faster. he deserves to finish, deserves to relax with you. you twist your hand like you've been doing for minutes, one last stroke, one last touch on the tip of him. james arches his back to you, he doesn't have any control of his movements anymore. he comes to your hand, white cum drips down on his belly and your leg a little bit. you help him ride through his orgasm, last drops of the liquid as you milk him dry.

james gives you a sound of moaning as you push him gently to lay on his back. he tries to catch his breath, the moment of intimacy is never lost on him as he holds your waist. he blinks, watches the ceiling. you sit on the bed slowly, leaning in to give him a kiss on his lips.

"can you close you eyes for me?" you ask with a lovely voice. "i'll be here in a minute."

he closes his eyes but doesn't let go of you. "don't leave me, please."

you give him another kiss because he's just so, so pretty when he begs you to stay. "i'll clean us up, and i'll get you some water baby." you push his hair back from his sweaty forehead. "i'll be back really fast, okay?"

james hums, you are quick on your steps as you clean your hands and your leg in the bathroom. you get him a freshly washed towel and help him clean himself though you were the messier one just a minute ago. you toss the towel into the washing machine before you leave for kitchen. you lean to the counter, trying to get yourself calm. your heart beats so fast, the waves of arousal from a moment with your boyfriend washes over you. this isn't about you tonight, you will not ask for james to return the favor. you should relax a little before getting into the bed with him again.

you fill a huge glass of water for james, after you drink one yourself. you go back to your bedroom, sitting next to the spot james is lying. his eyes are still closed, you worry he fell asleep for a second.

he blinks when you cup his cheek. he gives you a perfect smile, turning his face to kiss your hand. "i thought you fell asleep." you say.

james shakes his head. "i was waiting for you."

you give him a proud smile. "would you like some water?"

he nods, and you help him sit. he takes the glass from your hand and sips greedily. you can't help but smile at him, he finishes the glass quickly. "thank you, angel." he says, getting closer to your face to give you a kiss. you part your lips for him as he kisses you breathless.

you pull yourself back, looking at his pretty eyes. "you know, i really do believe your coach is not true in his words. i know how hard you try and how good you are in the field." you stroke his cheek. "i hope you believe in me. i never want you to be upset or doubt yourself when you're so good."

he nods, grateful and sweet. "it means a lot to me. your opinion, i mean. i'm glad for your support, my love, i really am."

you give him another smile, he puts the empty glass next to his glasses and you move to your side on the bed. "i can get you a shirt if you want, maybe you'll get cold." you say before laying down properly.

he shakes his head. "it's fine." he hesitates before he asks for something else. "would you- would you like to take your shirt off? so that i can feel you closer."

he is so gentle like he always is, you nod. "of course, i'd like that."

you make a quick work of your clothes, taking off everything. skin to skin contact makes everything better and james is so, so big and warm. you pull him to your naked chest as he presses a kiss on your skin. he gently holds your waist as you stroke his curls in your hand, brushing his hair back, helping him bury himself closer to your body. "you are okay, hmm? you are okay, baby."

"you didn't get to come." he murmurs, sleepily. "i promise, in the morning." he whispers disconnected words.

"i'm fine, that was for you." you lead his thigh to stay between your legs, pressing your warm cunt on his muscular leg to remain steady until the morning. "can you keep your leg here, sweetheart? i'll be okay than."

he nods, kissing you one last time on the skin below your nipple before sleep takes him. "of course. thank you." he streches like a kitten, and he settles down. "i love you."

you whisper the words back to him, holding him close to your chest until he finally falls asleep. the bed is warm and james's leg helps you when you can close your eyes. your pretty boy takes a sleepy breath, and you keep him under the covers, forever keeping him in your arms.

[sparkling-ariaria]

Marauders Era fics I read and want to keep...no°3

*Complete fem or non-specific reader insert fics*Updated: 14.04.2024

Falling for you by milunalupin - Peter x Reader A drabble about having a crush on Peter Pettigrew with Valentine's day coming up.

Dating Peter Pettigrew headcanon by maraudersmylove

Pickup lines by milunalupin - James x Reader With Valentine's Day coming up, James knew that this was the time to shoot his shot with you...

Lovesick Sirius drabble by theemporium - Sirius x gf!Reader Him pining over and loving cottage core you.

First introduction drabble by luveline - Remus x shy!Reader

Lovesick Sirius drabble by theemporium - Sirius x gf!Reader Him just pining hopelessly after you.

My girl by alwaysmoncheri - James x gf!Reader No one makes James Potter feel the way that his girlfriend does and he definitely knows it.

You two being in your own bubble drabble by luveline - Remus x shy!Reader

Sirius always needs your attention by ddejavvu

Clingy drunk drabble by inkdrinkerworld - modern!James x gf!Reader James who gets a little too drunk at a party and starts showing everyone photos of you because he just misses you.

Takin' a breath by familyvideostevie - modern!Sirius x gf!Reader Simply put, you love being in love with Sirius. You just never realized other people noticed all that much.

Lovesick James headcanon by volturissideslut

Lovesick Remus headcanon by volturissideslut

Lovesick Sirius headcanon by volturissideslut

Matching nail colours blurb by moonstruckme - Sirius x gf!Reader

Endless empathy by dwindlinghaze - Remus x gf!Reader Post full moon Remus who just wants to be with you.

Flirtation by moonstruckme - Sirius x shy!gf!Reader When Sirius won't stop tormenting you with pet names, you think to take revenge, but he doesn't react as you expected.

Prettiest girl at Hogwarts by kitkathockey - Remus x gf!Reader Remus is answering some of the first years questions and one of them asks who is the prettiest girl at Hogwarts.

Sirius helping you discover your right hair routine by moonstruckme - Sirius x gf!Reader

Home in each other's arms by ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes - Sirius x gf!Reader

Sirius drabble by moonstruckme - Sirius x gf!Reader Sirius speaking to you in french.

Borrowing his jumper for the first time by ohwowimlonley - Remus x gf!Reader

Remus drabble by lizard-on-a-window-pane - Remus x gf!Reader Remus is irritable before the full moon, his senses heightened and his temper short… but one person soothes him even when the rest of the world is anything but soothing.

Sirius drabble by luveline - Sirius x gf!Reader Shy!Reader being surprisingly cuddly when tired.

Sirius with a cold drabble by ddejavvu - Sirius x gf!Reader

James falls in love at first sight drabble by luveline - rugby player!James x cake decorator!Reader

Bumps by writtenbymoonflower - Sirius x gf!Reader You bruise easy and Sirius likes to be dramatic.

Lavender Haze by whorediaries-09 - Sirius x soft!Reader Sirius with a soft reader who's doing lovey-dovey little things for him.

He loves you no matter how shy by luveline - James x shy!gf!Reader

Puppy by messers-moony - Remus x gf!Reader Remus has a long day at Charms. (Prompt: Listening to them while they vent.)

Pretty Boy by alwaysmoncheri - James x Reader You think James is really pretty—unfortunately for you, Sirius notices and decides to take matters into his own hands

[starchaserwrites]

@jegulus-microfic / march 1: rugby / word count: 365

Too many videos, adverts and search suggestions about rugby have been appearing on all of Regulus' platforms to be coincidence. It only took a brief mention of the sport in a conversation with Barty and Evan while they were at work for it to flood every digital space Regulus owns. The funny thing is that of all the players out there, the one who is most reluctant to leave his phone is the one called Potter, who is apparently an eminence in the sport. 

Regulus knows only the basics about rugby, preferring soccer to be honest, but over the last few days he has found himself in the spare time he has between flights, looking up more information and watching the games this James guy plays in. 

All of this makes him feel a little foolish for succumbing to the insistent advertising, but a couple of days later it proves extremely useful when he sees a silhouette Regulus has become quite familiar with boarding the plane, and it leaves him gaping in surprise. When James Potter greets the cabin crew, which almost no one does genuinely, Regulus chokes with his own saliva, earning amused looks from his two friends and leaving him blushing as he helps the Gryffindor flanker find his seat in first class. 

Despite the initial surprise, the flight goes off without a hitch, save for Barty making crude gestures at him from the back of the aisle every time it is Regulus' turn to attend to a particular passenger. A passenger who appears to be nervous, as Regulus has seen him catch rugby balls at several miles per hour, but seems to have lost all motor skills when he drops the blanket he is trying to hand him twice.

At the end of the flight, despite being at the front of the plane, James decides to be the last to get up to disembark, but not before giving Regulus his number.

Some time later, all of Regulus' platforms are flooded with James Potter again, but for slightly different reasons. And well, probably now somewhere in the world someone else is complaining because he's the one accompanying the player in almost every picture.

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

Lily Evans had always been on James Potter's radar. At the beginning she had been the annoying girl who followed the rules, never did anything fun, and never let anyone do anything fun. Then, she had been one of the first girls James had noticed as pretty and hot when he hit puberty. At that time, Lily Evans had been a game to prove something to his friends and annoy Snape.

Later, James had dated other girls and was sure the Lily Evans dilemma was done and over.

Lily Evans was just another girl James knew. Not interesting enough. Just another classmate he loved to compete with and piss off. That was it, right?

It was purely coincidence that James couldn't get his eyes away from her now. It was simply weird that she wasn't in the common room with her nose stuck in a book, but rather socializing. And with a boy for that matter... What was his name again?

The bloke was making her laugh like a fool. She even had her cheeks slightly pink. She seemed to be having fun. Lily Evans didn't know how to have fun, did she?

Was was going on? Penny Prefect Evans didn't socialize. Her only friend was Snivellus and that was sad because he couldn't be considered a good friend even.

Now a boy, a stupid boy was making her laugh out of nowhere?

James didn't like this. He didn't care. He just didn't like it.

"Who's that?" he asked casually to his friends.

They had been doing homework quietly, or rather trying to. It was mainly Peter playing on his Nintendo, Remus reading a book, Sirius on his lap, trying to bother Peter. And James tossing his rugby ball high and higher then grabbing it back. But homework nevertheless. A rather normal afternoon.

"Who?" Sirius asked, hitting Peter's head and distracting him.

"Sirius! I was in first place!" he protested. Sirius giggled.

James ignored his blond friend "That bloke talking with Evans" he shrugged at the end to emphasize that he didn't care.

The three boys turned to look, even Remus looked up from his book.

"Luke Gardener" the latter answered.

"Who?"

"He's a seventh year" Remus explained "Girls consider him cute. Shy, not hot or sexy but cute"

That wanker didn't look shy at all. He didn't stop talking. What was he even talking about?

"How do you know that?" Sirius asked with a giggle.

"I listen to girls' conversations without wanting sometimes" Remus said "They either consider me one of them or completely invisible. Whatever theory is possible"

"I'm pretty sure that's not true, Moony"

"Well, they certainly notice you" Remus shrugged. Sirius smirked.

James was not even paying attention. His focus was on the way Evans was flipping her hair back. It looked weird on her.

"Why is he even talking to Evans, anyway?" James snapped without thinking.

"I bet he is asking her for help with his homework" Peter intervened, still looking at the little screen.

It didn't look like it. Evans didn't like when arseholes wanted to ask her for help or wanted to pay her to do their work for them. James knew that. She wasn't Remus.

To confirm it, Remus said:

"Luke has top marks in everything..." then he blushed realizing what he said "So, I've heard"

What a wanker!

"Gardener, why does it sound familiar?" James tapped his chin.

"Wasn't a Logan Gardener our Rugby Captian in our thrid year?" Sirius frowned.

Yes! That was why that bloke was familiar. James remembered Logan Gardener from years ago. He was a killing rugby player, popular and had a cute blond girlfriend. James used to believe he was cool. But he didn't know he had a little brother.

"Right!" James frowned "Ha..." he hissed "It is still weird that Gardener would be talking to Evans..."

None of his friends seemed to even care.

"What do you think he wants from her?"

Remus and Peter were silent. Sirius let out a chuckle.

"Isn't obvious, Prongs?"

James raised an eyebrow.

"He wants a good snog and if he is lucky maybe a good shag"

As Remus hit Sirius's head, James was in shock. Apart from Snivellus, he wasn't aware of blokes being interested on Evans. Sure, she had grown to be prettier than she used to be. Sure, she had a nice body to look at specially when she wore a tight blouse. Sure, she even had a nice pair of boobs that James kind of stared when she wore a neckline.

But this was Lily Evans they were talking about. She was nosy, and annoying, and a teacher's pet. She was friends with Snivellus and nobody liked Snivellus. Everyone knew she was not for a snog. Worse a shag. You were more likely to get a good slap and a nice kick in the balls before getting to first base or even getting a chaste kiss from her.

Lily Evans was not that kind of girl. She didn't snog, she didn't date... Worse! She didn't shag....

James let out a nervous giggle that soon turned into a nervous laughter that sounded from an evil character from a Disney Movie. James's three friends looked at him like he had gone mental.

"Right..." he said as he continued laughing "That's ridiculous"

"Yeah," Sirius snorted "knowing his brother Logan's cute girlfriends, you would believe this bloke had better taste"

"Lily is pretty" Remus intervened "And rather nice"

"Isn't she dating Snivellus?" Peter asked, finally looking up from his console.

"They are not even talking" James responded immediately, eyes still on the weird scene "I think they got into a fight"

"That's why Gardener is taking his chance" Sirius said with a stupid smirk "Maybe he is getting better luck that you did on fourth year"

James loved Sirius but sometimes he wanted to hit his face when he did stupid jokes like those.

James had concluded that the Lily Evans Game was too difficult for him. And well, he started dating Mary and he stopped trying to get Evans's attention.

He had thought Evans was a lost case even. But Sirius was right, Luke Gardener was doing a perfect good job. And James didn't like it at all.

Call it pride, call it jealousy, James Potter didn't care.

"Well, we will see about that"

James wasn't good at thinking before acting. So he raised to his feet with determination.

"What are you doing, Prongs?" Remus asked rather scared.

James considered his answer "Giving a little enterteinment to this evening"

James knew that Sirius was going to sit up and grin in expectation. Peter even put away his console and Remus simply rolled his eyes.

With confidence, James walked towards the strange couple.

"And I even solve puzzles on my free time... You know those of pretty landscapes?"

God! This boy was a bloody nerd.

"Oh, those are lovely!" Evans was saying when James started giggling nervously behind them.

That's when they acknowdelged his presence and they weren't happy about it.

"I love puzzles too!" James lied "I even solve them with my dad all the time"

Lily wasn't even subtle when she rolled her eyes in annoyance. James ignored that.

"Potter" Gardener said "We were in the middle of something"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, in the middle of something important, Potter!"

A grin appeared on James's face as everytime Lily got cutely annoyed by him.

"Very well..." James chanted as he hit Gardener's shoulder "Bruce..."

"My name is Luke"

James raised an eyebrow "And what did I say?"

"You said Bruce..."

But Lily Evans interrupted.

"We're not in the mood for your stupid jokes, or pranks or whatever this is, Potter" Lily groaned "So why don't you just fuck off?"

"Rude!" James gasped "I was only reminding you of something you love, dear Evans..." and as he said this, he put his arm around her shoulder but she pushed him away "The rules, and how Jack here..."

"Luke..." he said under his breath with annoyance.

"Is breaking the rules by being here" James continued "It is almost carefew and no people from other houses are supposed to be in The Gryffindor Common Room"

"For your information, Potter!" Lily spat "It is barely 4 p.m and Anyway... Luke is a Gryffindor"

"Whaaat??" James frowned "You're not a Gryffindor!"

Gardener was losing patience "Yes, I am"

"How come I've never seen you before?"

The boy blinked "You have Potter, many many times..." he hissed "It's just that you didn't know I existed"

"Pfffff....." James placed his arms around their shoulders "That's funny..."

Lily pushed his arm away again.

"I knew your brother Logan"

"Yeah, I know"

"How is that old'chap?"

Lily Evans took a deep breath.

"What do you want, Potter?"

You. A voice said inside his brain. James panicked.

"Remus!" he thought fast "Remus wanted me to ask you if you'd replace him as your token Gryffindor male best friend"

James knew Remus was listening and fuming him with his eyes.

"Oh, I am not replacing Remus" Lily answered.

"Then.... Remus wants to know..." James cleared his throat as he placed his hands on his pockets "Why... Why do you hang out with this guy....Why?"

Lily snorted "Oh, Remus wants to know?"

"Yes!"

"Then why doesn't he ask me himself?"

"Because he is shy!" James snapped "And I am a good friend"

"Is that so?"

"Yes! I offered to ask you for him"

Lily turned to look at the spot where the boys where. The three of them immediately looked away and pretended to be doing something else. Very smooth....

"Well if Remus wants to know so badly..." Lily said rather pissed "You should tell him that Luke and I are not friends..."

"Oh really?"

Luke frowned rather hurt and James was satisfied.

"No, we are not friends...." Lily added "We are dating!!"

While all the color on James's face was gone, Luke Gardener looked like a Christmas Tree.

"We are?"

Lily hestitated. "Yes. As in boyfriend and girlfriend!" then she went as red as her hair.

James wanted to punch the grin out of Gardener's stupid face,

"Yes, we are, Potter"

When Gardener put an arm around Evans and she blushed, James wanted to die.

This was a lie. They couldn't be dating. Lily Evans couldn't be dating that random bloke. She was special. She deserved someone special. That's what James told everyone who believed Snape was her boyfriend in the past.

And it hurt. I hurt because who was Luke Gardener to have the previledge of being Lily Evans's first boyfriend. To make her laugh, to make her happy. To be able to kiss that beautiful mouth and hold her delicate waist. To be able to be the one she whispers for at night, and be the reason she smiles in the morning. To be able to touch her skin and make her shiver....

NO! NO NO NO NO.... James, get that image out of your head.

Maybe it was the fact that fourteen-year-old James had tried so hard to get her attention without results that it pissed him that a random Jake Gardener would make her say yes.

She deserved better!

"Youcannotbedating!!" James exclaimed with a high-pitched voice. It was rather embarrassing.

"For your information, Potter" Lily snapped "Yes, I can. I can do whatever I want"

Gardener was using that i'm-sorry-mate-but-actually-not sorry-fuck-you-i-won expression.

"And... It is none of your business, anyway..."

James shrugged "I was asking for Remus" he explained

"Whatever" Lily said, without believing him.

"Remus was just worried that you won't be spending time with him because of your...because of your... " he couldn't say it "because of him... Because of Bryan..."

"My name is Luke! Luke! It doesn't even rime with Bryan"

"Whatever, Mike"

Luke groaned.

Lily ignored that.

"Whatever I have to talk with Remus, I will talk with Remus face to face!" Lily spat "Thank you very much"

"Alright! I'll tell Remus exactly that"

"Well fuck off and tell him!"

"Yes I will!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Staring at Lily's beautiful angry face, James realized how much he wanted to kiss her right now. He was noticing the shades of yellow in her green eyes, Her freckles across her nose. Her long eyelashes and how wet and pink her lips were. Her thick ginger eyebrows and her browny shadow contrasting her pale skin.

Lily Evans was even more pretty than he thought.

She made James's heart jump inside his chest and feel something flying inside his tummy. And even some parts of his body began twitching.

What the fuck?

"I...should probably go..." Gardener interrupted the intense staring contest "I have homework to do"

Lily looked away first.

"No, Luke! Wait!" Lily said, grabbing his wrist. His wrist! "Do you want to maybe have a stroll outside...and ....talk?"

James blinked. Lily Evans didn't say no to doing homework. Lily Evans didn't blush for a boy and put a lock of hair behind her ear for a boy.

Gardener gave James a suspicious look. Then smiled at Lily.

"Sure, Lily" he said "I would like that"

James wanted to scream.

Lily gave him a nasty look before taking Gardener's hand. HIS HAND!, and walking to the door.

"Wait, Evans...."

James was going to follow them and maybe humiliate himself in the process. But luckily someone stopped him.

"Well, that was awkward" Sirius laughed. He laughed! "I can't believe Penny Prefect has a boyfriend"

James was miserable.

"I can't believe you used me for that stupid conversation" Remus tutted as he approached.

"And I can't believe...." Peter said, trying to feel included "I can't believe I lost my tournament to watch that pathetic attempt of flirting..." he laughed awkardly "That was embarrassing, am I right?"

"Years of attempts and Gardener just tried once and beated you, Prongsie" Sirius giggled.

"He didn't even try. It was Lily who asked him out so..." Remus shutted up when he saw James's expression.

"Will you fuck off?" James didn't sound offended, like they had hurt his pride. He sounded heartbroken and tired.

"It was a joke" Peter tried.

"Why do you even care, Prongs?" Sirius added "Evans Operation is far over... We don't care that you totally lost!" he grinned.

"BECAUSE I FANCY HER!" James screamed so hard that several people turned to look. His friends were in shock.

James blinked realizing what he had said and how true those words were. It wasn't about a game or a pride show anymore. He actually couldn't stop thinking about her. He thought of Lily Evans when he aced an exam, and wanted to see her angry reaction to his success. He thought of Lily Evans when he made a prank with his friends and wanted to see how pissed Lily Evans would be and how she would threathen them to tell a teacher. He thought of Lily Evans when he played rugby and he secretly wished she would be cheering from the stairs.

Everything he did was because and for Lily Evans. And dammit, he didn't care what others thought. Lily Evans was the prettiest girl in school.

"I fancy Lily Evans" he repeated more sure now "And it is real this time" he laughed "It is real"

James's friends were processing his words rather differently. Peter was openmouthed because he probably thought about all those times when Lily and James yelled at each other. Remus was smiling probably because he was a romance sucker and probably something like this happened to one of those characters from his books. And Sirius...

Sirius seemed to not like the idea at all.

"Prongs..."

"Piss off, Sirius" James said before his best friend would enlist all the negative things he could find in Lily Evans, and judging on how much Sirius hated her (as much as Snivellus), they were a lot.

"I want to be alone, right now" James added "Okay?" he smiled at the end. Just in case.

James was going to the only place he could think about his discovery. The Rugby Pitch. And probably drown himself in exercise.

[lienspien]

Chat James Potter is a volleyball player, Regulus Black and Barty Crouch Jr. plays rugby, Sirius Black plays football, Evan Rosier plays tennis, Peter Pettigrew plays baseball, and Remus Lupin is on the bleachers

[lulublack90]

Prompt 11 - Football

@jegulus-microfic April 11, Word count 684

High school had always been hard for Regulus. He’d followed his brother up through school. He was always Sirius’s brother. He was just as intelligent as Sirius. He liked to think he was smarter, but he lacked Sirius’s easiness and charisma. He was quiet, kept to himself, and just wasn’t very good with people. 

It had been in his yearly report for the last few years, and finally, his parents had snapped. He was to try out for a sport, any sport, and he was to attempt civility because if it came back again that he had failed at socialising, there would be consequences. 

Every sport was full. The chess team had plenty of places, but his parents refused to accept that as a valid option. 

They reminded him that his brother was not only on the Rugby team but also on the tennis team, swim team, hockey team and, for some unknown reason, the baking team. Though Regulus would admit, Sirius’s Victoria sponge was delightful. 

The only team with any spaces was the football team. So he went along to the next practice. 

He’d forgotten that James Potter was on the team. The broad, golden-skinned, dark-haired bimbo lumbered over to him. 

“Hey, Reggie,” He grinned at Regulus’s snarling face. “You trying out, are you?” He asked as he ruffled Regulus’s hair with his oversized hand. Regulus had to clamp his jaws shut as he was sorely tempted to bite James’s hand for daring to touch him, but his parents would definitely be angered by that, so he ground his teeth. 

“Right, newbies over here. Potter in goal. Whoever gets the ball past Potter is on the team. If more than one of you does, which I highly doubt, there will be a sudden death round where you will score goals until one of you misses and so on and so forth until there is only one left.” The spiky-haired P.E. teacher barked at them with her authoritative voice. 

Regulus lined up behind the other hopefuls and waited his turn. He was nervous. If he buggered this up, Potter was bound to tell his brother. 

He watched as player after player ran towards James, dribbling the ball and kicking it straight into his waiting hands. 

Finally, it was Regulus’s turn. He felt sweaty already, and he hadn’t even moved. “On my whistle, Black,” Madam Hooch ordered. She blew the whistle, and he was off. 

Regulus was quick. He’d always been quick. He zipped across the pitch, the ball tapping off the inside of his boot, keeping just ahead of him. James was waiting for him in goal, bouncing gently as he tried to anticipate where Regulus was going to shoot. 

Regulus was within striking distance now. He lined himself up and booted the ball with all his might. The world slowed down. The ball flew through the air in slow motion. He chewed his bottom lip as the ball headed towards the goal. He held his breath as Potters's hands outstretched, and the ball soared past them and hit the back of the net.

James spun his head to look at the ball in disbelief. “Well done, Mr Black, you’re on the team.” Madam Hooch congratulated him. “Potter, get him up to speed. Right, everyone else dismissed.” She blew her whistle again and herded the unlucky candidates back to the changing rooms. 

James jogged over to him with the football in his gloved hands. He grabbed Regulus up in his arms and spun him around before depositing him to where he’d been stood. 

“That was amazing, Reggie. I had no chance at catching that.” Regulus felt his cheeks reddening, and it wasn’t from his exertions. 

James yanked the velcro of his gloves open with his teeth and threw his gloves onto the ground. “Come on, then.” He grinned, tossing the football to the ground and chasing after it. “Let’s have a bit of fun.” And Regulus, try as he might, couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face as he raced after James and immediately stole the ball from the laughing goalie. 

[ddejavvu]

I really like your “girl meal” writing for spencer I was wondering if you could do something similar for Remus or James

(Your writing is fantastic btw <33)

"Darling?"

By the apprehension in James's tone, you might have thought he discovered a three-headed lion in the kitchen. When you exit the bathroom, though, all you find is him eyeing your dinner plate warily.

"Hi, Jamie," You gush, enveloping him in a hug as welcome from the rugby meet he'd just returned from, "How was practice?"

"Good," He returns your embrace halfheartedly, "What's that?"

"Dinner," You hum, "You ate with the guys, yeah?"

"Yeah," He nods, and you're failing to see the issue here, "But what- what is it?"

"A quesadilla," You trail off, "Why?"

"Is there protein in there?" He glances over at your side dish, "And- spicy chips and guacamole?"

"Yes, James," You huff, "There's cheese. Cheese is protein. And yes. Chips and guacamole, what's wrong with that?"

"There's no meat," He notes tentatively, "And no vegetables, and lots of grease and carbs. It's not going to make you feel good, darling."

"Well, it's girl dinner," You huff, "It's not supposed to be nutritious, it's supposed to be yummy. And it's going to be, so back off."

"Alright." He lets go of your lazy hug, eyes wide and mouth fighting hard to appear stoic rather than amused. He busies himself with hanging up his keys, snatching a chip off of the side of your plate before you can stop him, "Alright, darling, enjoy your girl dinner."

"Not everyone can eat like a rugby player all the time!" You grouse, stuffing a triangle of your quesadilla into your mouth and letting the cheese spill deliciously over your tongue, "Eat steamed vegetables and bland chicken all you want, Potter, I'm happy with junk!"