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ddejavvu · 2 years

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hi mei! for mm, could i please request rugby player!james with a quiet / distracted reader and just the little ways he dotes on her when he gets home from training? love u!

my lovely jade :D of course you can!!

James is the tired one. He's still sweating when he gets home, there's a thin layer of sweat over his forehead despite having blasted the AC in his car. But his hand clenches tighter around a packet of chips he'd snagged you from the locker room vending machine on the way out, and he calls for you.

"Love?" The apartment echoes around him and he pads through the space in his socks, "Lovey, where are you?"

"Bathroom!" You shout, but he can tell from the sound of your voice that the door is open. He peers into the small space, seeing your fingers sorting carefully through a heap of earrings.

"Christ," He breathes, "That's a lot, huh love?"

"I've been at it for hours," You absentmindedly gesture to a jewelry board, several pairs of earrings stuck in the velvet fabric. You're too engrossed in your task to look at him, but he doesn't mind, because it means he gets to admire the concentrated furrow in your brows. "I think for this birthday I want a necklace instead, Jamie."

"Deal," He chuckles, bending down to drop a kiss to the crown of your head. The sight of the chips in his hand makes you drop the earrings, and you look at it with eager eyes.

"Are those for me?" You inquire, and he nods, passing them over to you. He tears open the sides of the foil bag for you, stripping his sweat-soaked tank top off of his chest.

"'Got some gatorade left," He tells you, "The red kind. It's on the kitchen counter, if you want it."

He knows you do. You're always eager to finish off his drinks, and if he's being honest, he saves some for you specifically. You always tell him that it's perfect he can't drink any more than half of his drink, because you finish off the rest for him. Really, he thinks it's perfect that he's found someone he wants to sacrifice his gatorade for.

"Thanks, Jamie." You munch happily on a chip, and just now realize that he's stripping down. He starts up the shower and feels your eyes on his toned back, hunching over for a little longer than necessary.

He grabs the towel from over the rack on his way back upright, passing it over to you, "Would you hold this for me, love? Don't wanna get it wet by accident before I need it."

You nod, eagerly bundling up the towel in your lap. He steps into the searing hot water with your eyes on him, accentuating his muscles in every move that he makes. He doesn't bother closing the shower door, either, too comfortable with you for his own good. It leaves him on full display as he lathers his hair with shampoo.

"Tell me about your day," He prompts you, peeking his eyes open to find you watching him intently. He stifles a grin so that you're not embarrassed, leaning even further back and showing off his neck, "Did you do anything exciting, go anywhere special, eat anything yummy? C'mon love," He begs, soap running down his chest, "I gotta know."

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ohlovxr · 2 years

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mel i remembered rugbier!james exists so now i’m thinking of being a cheerleader for his team 🫠

aksjdksj tina omfg shut up

on a cute note, he flirts with you literally all the time during games. winks, “wish me luck, baby”’s, little butt pats as he passes by you cheering when he’s running out onto the field. if we’re talking him being a famous rugby player, there’s def edits made by people online bc of how cute the two of you are 😭

on a dirty note, he gets you in bed for the first time under the little claim that “it’ll help the both of us improve our performances on the field!!”, meaning your flexibility and his strength bc he spends hours folding you in half and pounding into you <33 and and and he’s definitely bent you over in your pretty little uniform and fucked you silly on many occasions bc you just look so fucking good in it

and don’t forget the celebratory gangbangs bc that’s canon for any rugby player james scenario we’re talking about <3

#TINA #I WANNA BE A CHEERLEADER FOR HIS TEAM NOW #AAKSJSKSJ #no but fr heavy on the uniform pounding #i want it i want it i want it #he just keeps going till you’re drooling #and he gives your pretty pussy a little pat after he’s filled you up and flips your skirt back in place #and just gives you a sweet smile and goes about practice as if he didn’t rearrange your guts <33 #james potter x reader #notsfw #rugby player!james #tina!!!

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hombresexual2 · 5 months

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James Tedesco

#ass.#hot sportsmen #hot sport #meaty ass.#james tedesco #rugbier #rugby player #rugbymen

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ellecdc · 13 days

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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

#ask elle #james potter #rugby player james potter

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theemporium · 6 months

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

#cece chats #the only rugby player I care about is james potter

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inkdrinkerworld · 9 months

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scenario where reader trips or someone accidentally pushes her into beefy!james but he’s sturdy so he doesn’t even budge but his pecs provide a nice cushion to fall back onto lol

oh oh this is rugby!james and reader’s meet cute!!! set in collage!!

the party was in full swing. apparently rugby was a big deal on this side of town and the university had the best team- supposedly.

you’re not into rugby, you barely understand a handful of the rules but an excuse not to hear your roommate moaning all night wasn’t going to be passed up by you.

you were making your way out of the kitchen when three guys ran past you, shoving you out of the way and into someone else.

“fuck,” you grumble, holding your cup behind you so it doesn’t spill all over the man whose hand wraps around your waist to steady you.

you hadn’t been so lucky, your shirt is wet with vodka.

“you alright?” he asks softly, his other hand reaching to rub your back.

as you look up your heart hammers in your throat. the man holding you is gorgeous.

like carved from marble beautiful. he’s got on round framed glasses that make his eyebrows look even sharper, his brown eyes melty with concern.

his nose is a little crooked but still pretty. and he’s got full lips that look a little too enticing.

“yeah,” you manage to breathe, pushing off him. he’s huge- beefy is the better word. his shoulders are broad, his arms are corded with muscles that you see clearly from his t shirt. “sorry about bumping into you.”

the man shakes his head, the curls he’s got tied back bouncing free from his hair tie.

“s’nothing, those guys are idiots.” his chin juts to the men who’d bumped into you, they’re all currently trying to do some kind of drinking game.

“thanks for not letting me fall,” you pause when you realise you don’t know his name.

“james.” he offers easily and you smile.

“y/n,” you introduce yourself and he smiles too- showing off two deep dimples in his cheeks. god, it’s like the crafted him with not skipping a single detail.

“wanna change your shirt? i think i’ve got my hoodie here somewhere.” james offers easily and you wonder if he’s always so pleasant.

“you won’t miss it?” you ask, feeling like you’re flirting but you’re not sure.

“nah, would rather you have it, pretty girl.”

so you nod, flustered by his nickname and james points to the chairs behind you.

“here,” it’s a black hoodie that looks so soft, and as you take it you notice it’s got the school’s rugby emblem on it.

“didn’t realise you were a player.” you say and james grins- all wide and happy.

“s’alright, i have a helmet on most times, hides my identity.” he jokes and you giggle.

“like clark kent,” you hold the hoodie up to your nose discreetly. “thanks james, i’ll find you tomorrow to give it back.”

james nods, “don’t sweat it, pretty girl. whenever you see me you can give it back.”

james is definitely flirting with you.

james’ name is shouted across the living room and he grimaces, “gotta go, but it was nice bumping into you.”

“yeah it was,” you mumble to yourself as james jogs over to where his name was shouted from. you make it to the bathroom quickly stopping off your shirt and fitting the hoodie on- james smells lovely is the first thought you have.

like roasted marshmallows, vanilla and brown sugar. maybe you won’t rush to give him the hoodie back just yet.

#jamespotter #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x black!reader #james potter x you #james potter x yn #james potter imagine #james potter one shot #james potter fanfiction #james potter blurb #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter drabble #rugby!james potter #beefy!james #rugby!james

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bruisedboys · 1 year

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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

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sparkling-ariaria · 2 months

Text

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

#fic rec #harry potter fic #marauders x reader #marauders x you #marauders x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #sirius black x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #peter pettigrew x reader #peter pettigrew x you

221 notes · View notes

luveline · 1 year

Note

ah I saw that you were asking for poly!m and like <3 <3 <3 I love them so much. loved your blurb of them with r and the chicken wire <3 if you're still asking, what about remus and r cheering for the boys at a sports thing and they're literally disgustingly sweaty but they all just love each other I'll cry

thank you for your request! you and your guys after a rugby win <3 fem!reader cw suggestive

Remus' hand is the only warmth to be found for a half a mile.

"Come on, Sirius!" he bellows, pulling your hand along with his incensed movement.

You look out at the field to find your boy, Sirius making a sprint for the end zone. If he can score this last try —five points for the team— he'll win the game. James is right behind him, and you think for a moment that Sirius is going to pass the ball back.

Sirius isn't even supposed to be playing today. James had begged him as a favour after a freak disaster wherein no other players were available, and when Sirius does play its as a back, because he's fast and springy. And yet. Two threes down the field, nearly three quarters, Remus' hand tightening in yours, and–

"Go on!" Remus shouts, the two of you flying to your feet.

You scream something completely incoherent and bounce up and down, a high-pitched squeal that can't be helped. You're drowned out anyhow by the team's followers behind you. James' team isn't a Top 14 contender or anything but that doesn't mean they aren't good, or that the fans aren't out in droves today to see the game, held in your home stadium. The feat of Sirius' accomplishment is clear — the stands shake with cheering, and the clock counts down. The game is finished, and James' team has won.

You and Remus are so excited, you scream until your throat hurts.

"Remus, he did it!" you shout unnecessarily, turning to Remus, throwing your arms around his neck.

"Oh god, we're never gonna hear the end of it!" he shouts back.

It's not Sirius who won't let you hear the end of it.

"Did you see him?" James asks when you reunite, changed into his new clothes but still, undeniably, dripping with sweat and adrenaline. "Did you see? He ran like the fucking wind."

Sirius stands behind him. It's very obvious he's trying not to smile.

You can't decide who to hug first but Remus makes the decision for you when he practically knocks Sirius down.

"You fucking did it," Remus says.

Sirius lets himself smile, then.

You sidle into James open arms and frame his face with your hands. "You played so well, Jamie, you must feel so proud of yourself." You brush sweat-slicked curls behind his ear unflinchingly.

"We played amazing," he agrees, leaning down for a kiss.

It's celebratory and congratulatory and also just mushy. You pull back and lean in again straight away, deciding what you have to say will have to wait. You kiss and kiss and stroke his hair away from his face. He's not nearly as nice, post game roughness in the way his lips part under yours. You yank back before he can involve you in some unsavoury public snogging.

"You played amazing James," you say, "you always do."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

You look over James' shoulder at a Sirius' pout. Remus still has an arm around his neck, but that's never stopped you before. You laugh and pretty much jump at Sirius' lean chest, pleased when Remus puts a hand over your back to steady you.

"You know you played well," you say, brushing at Sirius' clean shaven cheek with a loving thumb. You beam at him, burying your face in the crook of his clammy neck. "Oh, you played so well. You're amazing. I'm so proud of you."

You pull away from the two of them, and all four of you stand in a love bubble in the middle of the room, which you try not to do. It happens more often than you'd think.

"Woah, wait," Sirius says. "I'm a gentleman, and I don't believe in coercion, but I do believe in fairness, and we all saw the way Prongs just laid into you–"

"If you want a kiss, Sirius, you only have to ask," James says.

You nibble your lip and move to Sirius again, feeling the slightest bit shy at his proclamation. You know that he wants to kiss you, as you want to kiss him, or Remus or James, but what Sirius doesn't always realise is that he's intimidating in his manner. Like Remus in bed, or James when he's tired, Sirius is always a little stern. He brings out your timidness.

"He's put her on the spot," James says sympathetically.

"Look at how cute she gets, every bloody time," Remus laments.

You laugh under your breath and screw your eyes closed. Sirius doesn't make you suffer, simply leans down and kisses you, his attention to your top lip. It's definitely not the kind of kiss you should share in public, not because it's especially salacious: it's charged. You worry the entire room is watching him melt you, but thankfully Sirius steps back before you can burst into flame.

"You did play really well," you say. You sound as dizzy as you feel.

Sirius laughs genuinely, his hand following over your head to behind your shoulders. "Thanks, doll."

The boys spend some time talking to people you don't know and then you're homeward bound, James pulling a concerned Remus, two pale hands wrapped around his wrist. "Where's your brace?" Remus murmurs, not looking where he's going.

"It's in my bag, it was too sweaty to keep on."

Remus probes at James' wrist. "Doesn't it hurt?"

"Does when you do that, handsome."

You grin and swing your hand in Sirius', right behind them.

"You must be really tired, now," you say.

Sirius looks down at you with a charmed smile. "Not too bad, my love… You know, after a game, you're supposed to do some light training. Relax the muscles."

"Really?" you ask. "What kind of training?"

"It's the high impact, you need something to wind down afterward. And it's all legwork, of course–"

You make a disbelieving sound in the back of your throat. "Of course. I'm sure we can find something to save your poor muscles."

He pulls you in by the arm and leans down to kiss you, but you stop him, dipping your chin away from his searching mouth.

"Sirius? Recovery training usually happens the day after a match. You know what they recommend immediately after?" You lift your chin until he can feel each word against his lips. "Rest."

His breath is hot against your face.

"Well," Remus says, cutting through the quiet, "it's a good thing I don't need to do that."

He and you both burst into pleased laughter, leaving your gutted sportsmen to glare at you sullenly.

"When have I ever needed rest after a match?" James argues.

"That's true. James is back in." Remus beams at Sirius, your joking a lightness that brightens his entire face. "Guess you'll just have to watch, Siri."

#poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x fem!reader #poly marauders x reader #poly marauders #the marauders fanfiction #the marauders x reader #the marauders fanfic #the marauders #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

STRONG BOYFRIEND JAMES POTTER STRONG BEEFY RUGBY PLAYER BOYFRIEND JAMES POTTER <33

i could go on but i think we all understand what im feeling right now

YES !!! I UNDERSTAND !!!! he's so thick and beefy and snjnsgsjg i want my TEETH on his BOOB

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter au #rugby player!james #rugby!james

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starchaserwrites · 2 months

Text

@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.

#based on a conversation i had with renn <3 #we agreed that our phones are spying on us #jegulus #regulus black #james potter #starchaser #sunseeker #james x regulus #jegulus microfic #marauders #the marauders #renn tag <3 #len writes

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captainfern · 6 months

Text

141Rugby!au - Introductory and Definitions

141 x fem!reader, rugbyunion!au [18+] intro

hi! below the cut is an introductory to rugby union if you know absolutely nothing about the sport (and it's completely okay if you don't!)

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

Rugby [a somewhat simplified explanation!]

rugby union (i’ll be referring to it as simply rugby) is a very physical, high-contact sport played by many different countries across the world. if you want an idea of how intense the love for rugby can be, search up rugby culture in south africa, ireland, or new zealand - 3 very strong rugby nations!

the main objective is to score tries by getting the ball to the other end of the field and touching it against the grass in the end-goal. to stop the other team from scoring a try, players try to tackle their opposition and attempt to steal the ball back.

also important to note, many rugby players are fine as hell. ok anyway

on a rugby field, each team has fifteen players numbered 1 through to 15. each team also has players on the bench that can be "subbed" on if a player on field becomes tired or gets injured. each player (and their number) has special skills, simplified here:

1 & 3 (prop) - the strongest guys on the field. usually pretty beefy as they are positioned at the front of a scrum (explained later). example player: joe marler, england. 2 (hooker) - a bit less beefy, but still strong, sometimes a bit taller than 1 & 3. this guy throws the ball in lineouts (explained later). example player: malcolm marx, south africa. 4 & 5 (lock) - the tallest guys on the field. they are lifted during lineouts. example player: eben etzebeth, south africa. 6 & 7 (flanker) - are very fit, quite fast and are good at commanding the field (many captain's have been flankers). example player: siya kolisi, south africa. 8 (number eight, eighthman) - typically very strong and can lift and/or be lifted in lineouts, as well as add extra weight to scrums. example player: ardie savea, new zealand. 9 (scrum-half, half-back) - usually the smallest on the field, and are often quite quick. they put the ball into the scrums. example player: antoine dupont, france 10 (fly-half, first five-eighth) - are usually fast, fit and are often the kickers of the team that kick conversions (explained later). example player: handre pollard, south africa. 12 & 13 (centre) - strong passers, have a good kick and create space when they run down the field. example player: reiko ioane, new zealand. 11 & 14 (wing, winger) - the fastest men on the field. they run near the outside lines of the field and can often be difficult to tackle (explained later). example player: james lowe, ireland. 15 (fullback) - catch high-balls, kick far distances, quite fast, fit and can run long distances. example player: damian willemse, south africa.

there are certain "events" that happen in rugby, as mentioned in the previous segment. the basic, fundamental ones are simplified and explained a bit here:

scrum - a method of restarting the game. players pack closely together with their heads down and attempt to gain possession of the ball by pushing each other. the props go at the front because they are the strongest, and the 9 puts the ball in for the players to "fight over" lol. like this:

lineout - is another method of restart when the ball goes out, and involves the ball being thrown in and players lifting up the 4 or 5 so they can catch the ball and give it to their team. each team lifts their lock, and the locks fight for the ball in the air lol. like this:

conversion - done after a player scores a try (a player touches the ball against the grass at the end of the field, worth 5 points). the kicker has to kick the ball between the posts to "convert" the try. it's worth 2 points.

now, here's some quick definitions of words you might see in my upcoming fics. also, if you're ever confused, just ask me! or, you know, search it up on the internet lol.

tackle - when the player with the ball gets "tackled", another player has grabbed them and brought them to the ground. some tackles can be pretty tame, but others can be very intense and cause serious injuries (you are not allowed to tackle near the shoulders, neck, or head. if a player does, they are sent off with either a yellow-card, or red-card). like this:

yellow card, and red card - if a player does something illegal (rugby term for bad or against the rules lol), they can either get a yellow or red card, depending on how bad they are. a yellow card is if you break a basic rule (example, you accidentally hit your shoulder against another player's head in a tackle) and you get sent off for ten minutes and have to sit in the naughty chair :(. a red card is if you do something very very bad (example, you straight up try to scrape someone's eyes out with your sprigs aka the pointy things on the bottom of your boots). you get sent off for the rest of the game, and could get a suspension from playing for weeks.

penalty - if you do something a bit bad, not enough for a card, then the other team get's a penalty (if the other team does something wrong, you get a penalty). the team can choose to either take the ball back and do a scrum/lineout, or kick for goal (a penalty goal is worth 3 points).

forward pass - can't do that!! when you pass the ball, it must always go backwards, just by a little bit!! like this:

ruck - when a player is tackled and goes to ground with the ball, other players join in to try and either steal the ball or take the ball out and give it back to their team. the guy with the ball has to get the ball out otherwise the other team gets a penalty! like this:

maul - exactly how it sounds lol. can be pretty brutal. when the player with the ball is held up, other players grab onto them and basically wrestle each other LMAO. other plays can join in to keep play moving if they want. it can happen a lot after scrums. it can also lead to fights if the players are particularly rough with each other. like this:

try - the method of scoring points. a player takes the ball and puts it over the line at the end of the field (call the end-goal most of the time) and it's worth 5 points. like this:

that's basically all you need to know to understand the references i might make throughout the fics (in between the literal porn of course LMAO). if you're curious about anything else, consult the internet or feel free to ask me :)

and yes, try celebrations are common. you know that tiktok audio "and they're both boys *smooching sounds*". that's literally mens rugby like half of the time

ok first fic out soon hopefully x

i’m aiming to write 5 parts but we’ll see how far i get lol

#captainfern #call of duty #141rugby!au #141 x reader #task force 141 #captain john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #cod smut

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daenysx · 4 months

Note

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.

#james potter #james potter x reader #marauders #james x reader #modern marauders #james potter x you #james x you #harry potter #james potter one shot #james potter fic #james potter smut #james potter imagine #james potter fanfiction #james potter fluff #marauders smut

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cosmal · 1 year

Text

𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐝𝐬 — 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

summary — you go to james' footy match, despite hating crowds and it being cold.

warnings/tags — fem!reader, she/her pronouns, professionalrugbyplayer!james, shy!reader, something short!

note — okay this is solely based on how australian rugby works! I'm assuming it's not that different to uk rugby tbh. also very much professional player james! not small town team.

word count — 1.2k

You’re not sure how long it’s been since you went to one of James’s matches. Maybe a few weeks. You remember how cold the last one was - the mud, your wind-whipped cheeks, the massive crowd.

You remember getting stuck in a group of rowdy, 20-something-year-old men. They seemed to be big fans of your boyfriend, cheering and jumping for each try he scored and conversion he kicked. They spilt beer on you and trod all over your feet. You also remember what James had said, Sweetheart, next time tell me you’re coming and I’ll organise you to sit up in a box. You’re freezing.

The thing you remember most was James’s face when he saw you in the sheds. He looked so goddamn happy it wasn’t even funny. You never really come to his games, you hate the crowds so much, and the fact that rugby season is in winter. You’d much rather to watch it live on your TV, in the comfort of your own home.

James knows this, he’s completely fine with it. Well, that’s what he says. It’s okay, Y/N. This match is supposed to be really big and I’d much rather you stay home than get caught up in all the commotion. That was what he had said to you once. He knows you get nervous, no matter whether you’re in the middle of the grandstands or tucked away upstairs with his coach, watching in a spectator’s box. It’s too much for you.

Still, you want to support him. This is his job, his life. And the spectacle of a large crowd is something you can put aside for a moment if it means you get to see your boyfriend tackle some men to the ground, get all muddy and sweaty, and then his eyes light up when he sees you afterwards. It’s completely worth it.

It wasn’t cold when you left, you swear of it. Now, you’re sat up in the middle of the front grandstand, in a much quieter section. But still, the wind has picked up and the sun doesn’t look as if it’ll come out again. The outfit you decided to wear isn’t a bad one, but you still wished you’d worn a warmer coat. Maybe a scarf.

You have the perfect view of James as he runs the field. Passing off the ball to assist with try’s, scoring his own, kicking and tackling as hard as he can. You can tell he’s a star player with how hard he pushes himself, instructing which plays to run and calling out all the important things you should on the field. He’s a born leader.

He’s sweaty and stuck with mud and grass. Muscles straining through the jersey that’s the tiniest bit too small. He’s a total turn-on on the field and you’re excited to find him afterwards. Especially because you’re entirely frozen, and it's loud and overwhelming. Still, you watch him win the match with the biggest grin.

You climb the endless stairs up to the top of the stadium, past security guards that know you from the few times you’ve been back here, through corridors and hallways until you make it to the home-team sheds.

You can hear their cheering and rowdiness before you open the door and momentarily almost decide on waiting until later. That is until the doors are opening before you can even push your palm flat against the metal frame.

It’s much warmer inside - much stuffier. You push past other family members, girlfriends and friends, and spot him before he does you. The back of his head, the mess of unruly curls that you probably should’ve offered to braid back this morning before he left.

“Potter, your girl's here!’’ You hear one of his teammates call before he turns around, confused.

He’s squinting at first, obviously without the contacts he wears for his games. Then lighting up like an excited puppy the moment he clocks you amidst the chaos that is his buzzing, win-high, team.

He closes the gap between you and picks you up in a messy, sweaty hug. You’re all giddy when you push your face into his sticky neck. Breathing in his scent. Sweat, dwindling, boyish deodorant and grass. Something that follows him home even after a post-game shower.

“Which girl were you expecting, Potter?” you tease, speaking into his skin. He chuckles when he settles you back down, the feel of it reverberating through your chest.

“One of the many I have on call,” he entertains, arms still wrapped around your lower back. This close you can feel his pecs pressed into you after spending the entire match discretely drooling over them. He’s firm and broad. One of the many benefits of having a rugby player boyfriend.

“You played really well,” you tell him, tucking ink black locks behind his ears. He turns into your hand.

“Thanks, lovely. You’re my good luck charm.”

He’s too kind.

“Where are your glasses?” you ask, bunching the hem of his jersey in your hands, exposing the slip of flesh that covers his hip bones, glistening with perspiration.

“In my bag,” he answers, “What are you doing here?”

You press a kiss to the skin of the bottom of his jaw, “To see my boyfriend tackle some strong men.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod gleefully.

“Does that require dressing like it’s not 7 degrees outside?” he scolds, albeit with zero heat. Less heat than his body is creating this close against yours. Where his big hands traverse a path up the length of your back.

“It’s not that cold,” you defend. Still, you melt under his touch. “I’m wearing more clothes than you!” You say it like it makes any sense.

“You didn’t just run a hundred laps of a football field.” He frowns.

“M’sorry,” you pout. James melts. Completely crumbles under your soft gaze.

“Don’t be.” He shakes his head, squeezing you close before letting you go again, “Just let me know next time, I’ll put you somewhere warm.”

“I know, you tell me every time.”

“Then listen to me,” James laughs as he moves to the other side of the shed. You follow him like a lost puppy, weaving through players.

“I wanted to surprise you.” You tell him like arguing matters. He’ll be hating himself the entire night for not knowing you were out in the cold. It obviously wasn’t your plan but it’ll still happen.

“Well consider me surprised, babe. Your arms are like popsicles.” James rummages through his bag until he finds his jumper. Turning back around to pull it over your head. You fit your arms through it and brush the ruffled hairs from your face. Brandished in his team colours, you beam in his clothes.

“Cute,” James murmurs.

Your face warms, “Stop.” You cover your cheeks with your sleeved hands.

“You’re never taking that off.”

“James.”

“I’m serious, you’re fucking adorable,.” he groans like it’s actually painful. You can tell he’s trying to make you comfortable in an environment you have trouble with. You despise his flirty methods. Or love them, you’re not sure.

“Okay, c’mon. Go get you’re stuff, we’re going home.”

“I need to shower.”

“We have a shower at home, if I remember correctly,” you quirk with a tilt of your lips. James’s eyes glint knowingly.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit, okay. Let me grab my shit, I’ll be five minutes.”

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