#clumsy james

[lulublack90]

Prompt 13 - Ski

@jegulus-microfic April 13, Word count 996

James could not Ski. He’d tried for years. His parents took him every year, but he just didn’t have the balance for it. Even now, at 25, he stayed on the easiest slopes. He watched 8-year-olds surpass him. But even though he was hopeless, he absolutely loved it. The mountains were so beautiful, the air crisp and cold, and the evening wood fires with fresh hot chocolate were to die for. 

One morning, he took the chair lift to the top with his parents, fully intending to take it back down again once he’d taken in the view. But of course. James accident-prone Potter, did not go back down the way he meant to. 

James began to slide backwards without noticing. It was only when, with a puzzled look on his face, he wondered why the trees he was looking at were getting shorter. Did he begin to panic. 

His eyes went wide with horror as he hurtled backwards down the slope. Somehow, he doesn’t quite know how he managed to turn around, so he was at least facing the right way. He started yelling. He’d definitely been happier facing the other way. 

He tried to bring up every lesson he’d ever learnt about Skiing. He managed to slow himself enough to control his descent. That was until the skier clad in a skin-tight black and white snowsuit caught his attention. 

It was as though his skis were attracted to the skier. They turned towards him, and James lost all control. 

“LOOK OUT!!!!” He screamed. The man turned in time to watch James smack into him. They crashed to the ground in a tangle of skis, poles and limbs. 

“What the hell are you playing at?” The other man shouted at him, his cheeks red with anger. James looked at him sheepishly. 

“I’m sorry. I lost control of my skis and couldn’t stop.”

“If you can’t control yourself, you shouldn’t be on this slope. You should be down with the children.” The man sneered at him. James nodded profusely. 

“Yes. Yes, that’s where I normally am, but I accidentally came down this one.” 

“How on earth did you manage that?” The man asked interestedly.

“I came up with my parents and meant to take the lift back down. But, while I was looking at the view. I kind of started sliding backwards, and by the time I realised it was too late.” He flushed with embarrassment. 

“How did you not realise you were moving?” 

“The view was pretty.” He shrugged. The man laughed at him. He tried to stand and hissed when he put weight on his ankle. 

“Damn it.” He tried again and quickly stopped. “Ouch.” He whined. James stood up and was thankfully unharmed. He looked around. They were nearly at the bottom. He could see the bar from here. 

He set his skis in front of him and bent to gather the man’s skis and both sets of poles. 

“Here, hold these.” He told the man as he slipped his hand under him and scooped him into his arms. 

“Ahhhh! What are you doing?” The man panicked. 

“I’m going to get you back down so you can see a doctor.” He didn’t wait for the man to argue. He stood into his skis and set off. Maybe it was the determination to get this man off the slopes, or maybe something had finally clicked, but James skied down the rest of the mountain like a pro. 

He stopped at the bottom, released his feet from his skis and carried the man into the hotel. 

“Hey, can someone get a doctor here? He’s hurt his ankle.” James deposited him on the lobby sofa as gently as possible. “I really am sorry.” He apologised again. “Can I get you anything?” The man shook his head. James hovered awkwardly next to the sofa. 

“Oh, for crying out loud, just sit down.” The man snapped. James flung himself on the sofa in panic. “Ouch! Watch the ankle!” 

“Sorry! Sorry!” James’s hands fluttered uselessly over his ankle. 

“I’m Regulus since you asked,” Regulus told him. 

“Oh-er. James, James Potter.” James held out his hand. 

“It was a pleasure to be almost crushed by you, James.” He smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes. 

“I really am sorry.” James dropped his head, staring at his boots. 

“Did someone ask for a doctor?” A tall, lanky man asked them.

“Yes, Regulus here had an accident while we were skiing,” James told the doctor. 

 My name’s Dr Lupin. I’m going to examine you. Is there anywhere that hurts?”

“Excuse me, I was hit by a clumsy yeti.” Regulus snickered back, ignoring Dr Lupin. 

“Did you hit your head?” The doctor asked worriedly, his hands gently probing across Regulus’s head. Regulus swatted him away. 

“No, the yeti was him,” He pointed at James. Dr Lupin looked between them, confused. 

“Regulus, can you tell me where you’re hurt?” He asked again patiently.

“My ankle,” He pointed at his left foot. Dr Lupin carefully prodded and rotated the joint. 

“Hmm, I don’t think it’s broken. Badly sprained. Keep off it for at least a week and wear this…” Dr Lupin dug out a tubular bandage and handed it to James. 

“Make sure you’re boyfriend takes it easy. Hot chocolate works wonders.” He smiled kindly. 

“Oh-no-he’s not my-we’re not!” James spluttered.

“Hear that, dear? Waited on hand and foot.” Regulus said as he held back his laughter. Dr Lupin looked between them again, realising he was missing something. 

“Well. Here’s my card in case the pain gets any worse.” He handed over the little card and excused himself. James watched the doctor pause when the man who looked eerily like Regulus caught his eye when he was about to walk out the door. 

“So hot chocolate then, love?” He snickered at Regulus, winking and taking great pleasure at the pink colour his cheeks turned. James was going to enjoy this week. He just knew it. 

Next part

[star-struck-withantlers]

I can imagine sirius making a compilation of all the times he has caught James walking into something/falling because someone stole his glasses (normally sirius or Marlene but occasionally Mary or Remus when their in that mood) and its like 20 minutes long and that's only the ones caught on camera, he's done it like triple that amount of times

[sadiesadieagentlady]

She is messy, but she's kind

Hello! I'm Sadie, I was gently encouraged to join this site, in truth I was already here just...less conspicuous. But hi, I'm Sadie Fitzsimmons, I was a part of MI5, British spy agency thing but SHIELD snapped me up after I worked with them on a collaborative mission and possibly after my Mum and Dad gushed about me at work.

I am dating @spotted-ac-richards so I am taken, sorry lads and ladies! I'm bisexual, I'm still quite new to SHIELD so I mainly run errands for Hill at the moment until I can be out in the field. But I specialise in Undercover Operations so when I am out there you may not even realise I'm there!

I am notoriously clumsy annoyingly, but lovely Ady has very good reflexes. I haven't lost a coffee or lunch ever since we started dating so that's a win I s'pose. It is rather a lot following in the footsteps of my parents but not exactly following the path they took? It does weigh on one's shoulders at times but I can brush it off.

I love to read high fantasy tales of intrigue and adventure, especially with a bit of spice sprinkled in there. My TBR list is rather long at the moment but I'm currently reading Fire by Kristen Cashore, low to no spice but high drama!

I'm also a bit of a gamer, Baldur's Gate 3 at the moment but I also play Sims 4 in my spare time and I was a Minecraft girlie in my teens. I also love TTRPG games like Dungeons and Dragons but can never seem to find any players to form a campaign with so I haven't rolled dice in a while. But I do own a lot of dice, this set are my lucky dice set that gave me two Nat 20s in one session.

What else? Oh I am partial to songs from Musicals, my current love right now is the songs from the Musical Black Friday as I refuse to play Christmas songs in November, the Wicked Soundtrack and EPIC The Musical, particularly the Circe Saga. It just hits different, y'know?

Anyway feel free to ask me questions and whatnot if you want to get to know me and I'm excited to be here! Properly. 🦋

Tags: @askstevella @ask-missparker @ask-starrk @therealdaydreamstark @marvelsfavoriteuncle @wizzzardofoz @sci-fi-lexcon @purpleprincessonfyre @trulysummersprivate @the-x-ladiesofnyc @finlayholmes @ethan-lensherr @elzabeth-stark @luna-d-marsh @rickb-chaos @afterhours-witheli

@jackiequick @gcthvile @blueboirick @meiramel @missstrawbs2001 @aidanxsophxoxo

[up-to-some-good]

Just like you

Written for @jilymicrofics November 28th - clumsy

When Harry was born, Lily was slightly sad that he looked so much like James. Of course, she loved her son endlessly, and adored his big green eyes and messy hair. But sometimes, she wished he looked a bit more like her.

And then he started growing up, past the baby stage and into the toddler stage, and she could see he wasn't just a mini James, but somehow a perfect blend of the pair of them.

It became a constant joke in their house.

Harry would sit with the cat in the afternoon, playing one-handed with his toys while the other hand stroked her ginger fur. James would smirk and nod in Lily's direction.

"He gets that from you."

Harry came in from the garden, caked in mud with wild hair and wide eyes. Lily would pick him up and carry him to her husband before passing him the muddy toddler.

"He gets that from you. I'll make dinner while you get him cleaned up."

Then Harry began walking. He stood up slowly, holding on to the coffee table, and started walking towards his father on clumsy feet. Lily watched from the sofa, sipping her tea and listening to James cheering him on. In a moment of bravery, Harry let go of the coffee table to walk alone to his father. His balance wasn't quite there, however, which meant he took one more unstable step before falling backwards with a thump.

James and Lily locked eyes for a moment before saying simultaneously,

"He gets that from you."

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

"DON'T GET DISTRACTED!"

James manages to get the ball but barely. Out of reflex maybe. Marlene tutts. The boy had been trying to be discreet on how much he stares at Lily on the stands but being completely obvious.

"You almost hit my precious face!" he protests.

Marlene shakes her head. She cannot believe how people can get so stupid for a simple crush. If they want to win this year's cup they have to focus while practicing.

"Focus on the training, lover boy" Marlene gestures towards Lily on the stands. James clearly blushes.

"I'm focused!"

But Marlene is now distracted herself. She sees a group of Slytherin girls which is odd because it is Gryffindor's practice.

And they are loud. Especially Alecto Carrow waving excitedly at Sirius. Of course, they only came to see shirtless boys.

Marlene is about to roll her eyes, when she sees her. Time seems to slow down as she walks by. So beautiful, flawless and perfect.

Dorcas Meadowes.

There is something about this girl that leaves Marlene's mouth dry and completely mesmerized. Maybe is the fact that Marlene wants to be just as beautiful as her. Or maybe she wants to be close to her. Or maybe... Maybe... She wants to do something else?? Marlene doesn't know.

"Marlene?" James was screaming "Ha! Who is distracted now?"

He tosses the ball to scare her the same way she had done with him. But Marlene's reflex is not even on.

Just in time when Dorcas's eyes cross her, Marlene feels the ball hitting her face. She drops to the floor and all she feels is pain.

"Marlene!! Holy Shiiit, Marly!!"

Seconds later James is kneeling in front of her with a worried expression. Sirius is eyeing behind him.

Marlene groans in pain. Touching her head.

"Oh my God, my Marly!" James shakes her "Did I kill you?"

"Is she dead?" Rick Steven's voice asks.

"Check out her pulse, mate" Sirius suggests.

James touches the side of her neck but Marlene groans and pushes it away.

"Fuck off! I'm fine! Not dead"

It is more the embarrassment really.

Marlene manages to sit up, ignoring her dizziness. She sees her friends on their feet checking worried if she is okay.

The Slytherins, on the other hand, are laughing. Except Dorcas who seems worried about Marlene. She is even on her feet as well but sits down embarrassed seconds after. God! Does she actually cares?

"With what did you get distracted now, Marly?" James asks.

Marlene looks away from Dorcas and tries not to blush.

"Nothing"

[bloodysicario]

Zou Soldier & leader Space Dog

[my-book-list]

When Worlds Collide and Days are Dark

“Did you just call Zayn Q?” Louis looked confused. They all tensed. “It’s his nickname,” Niall blurted fast. “His, er, Dungeons and Dragons name?” “Right,” Liam, again, to the rescue. “We like to tease him about it.” “I didn’t know you played Dungeons and Dragons, Z,” Louis looked like Christmas had come early. “Has this been going on long? Because I am highly offended you robbed me of all this good mocking material.” “No,” Zayn said, sounding slightly pained. Harry did feel for him, honestly. He knew Zayn wasn’t so comfortable with lying to Louis. “It’s a new thing.” “What does Q stand for?” Louis asked. They again, paused for a beat too long. Louis was way too inquisitive. “Quantum Asshole,” Harry said finally. Zayn kicked him under the table, glaring at him. Louis laughed. “That’s horrible, mate. And you chose that for yourself? Incredible. Anyways, another round boys?” “I’ll get it,” Harry said, standing from the booth. “For everyone, yeah?” “Maybe we shouldn’t,” Liam said, always so sensible. “It’s Friday, M, live a little. You’re having another,” Niall rolled his eyes. But then he realized what he said and his eyes widened. Fuck. They were all so screwed tonight. “M?” Louis asked. “That another Dungeon and Dragons name?” “Yeah, um, it stands for Magic Dick,” Niall said quickly. And there was Niall, going in for the save. Not. Bloody hell, Harry needed another drink.

Liam groaned. “I swear to god, Styles, if I get an invitation to a wedding, I am going to shoot you. At the wedding.” by @harruandlou and @darkmarkburning on ao3.

157k

ooooofffff such a rollercoaster. omg. brilliant.

[baltears]

turns out i am indeed capable of having a pretty good evening

[phielows]

NOT MY BFF ACTUALLY SLANDERING ME FOR NOTICING THIS LATE THAT I HAVE A SPECIFIC TYPE IN MY FICTIONAL CHARACTER MEN😭🙏 cuz from what I told them, I'm a huge James Potter and Harry Potter girlie, then Andrew Garfield's Spiderman,etc (i literally hc them to be tan with curls and glasses) then now I'm crushing on Clark Kent(ALSO HC HIM TO BE A BIT TANNER, CURLS THEN GLASSES AND A BIT CLUMSY)

This is how the convo went:

Me: just realized that I have a type in men...(after showing her my doodle of Clark and Bruce and also yapping about how Clark looks so good)

Her: you realized that, NOW?

I was literally shut off and stunned.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 16 - Embarrass

@jegulus-microfic April 16, Word count 854

Previous part First part

James actually ran as soon as he got out of Regulus and Sirius’s suite. He was so stupid throwing himself at a stranger without even asking if they were single. He thought Regulus would have told him, but clearly not. Then again, he thought, he did tell me to go away repeatedly, and I wouldn’t go. Barty was right to be angry at me. 

His feet had led him back to his own room. Clumsily, he scanned the door card and let himself in. Maybe he’d go out onto the slopes and have a ski. He hadn’t done that for a few days. Not since he ran into Regulus. He could hardly embarrass himself more than he’d already done today.

He had just hauled himself off the bed and started to look for his skiing clothes when the room phone rang. He picked it up in case it was his parents, but they had his mobile number, so it would be odd if it were them. 

“Hello?” He said into the receiver. 

“James? James, is that you? Please don’t hang up. Can you come back, and I’ll explain.” Regulus’s panicked voice buzzed down the phone line. James sunk onto his bed. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Reg. My intentions aren’t exactly platonic, and you have a boyfriend—”

“I DO NOT HAVE A BOYFRIEND!!!” Regulus shouted, clearly aggravated. “Sorry. Barty is not my boyfriend. I broke up with him, and he refuses to accept it. But I swear, James, I would have told you if he were. Please come back.” James ran his hand through his hair as he debated. “Please, James.”

“Ugh,” He grunted. “Okay, fine. Is Sirius there to let me back in?” He’d already stood up and walked towards the door but was suddenly yanked backwards by the corded phone. “Ouch!” He cried as he landed heavily on his arse. 

“You just tried to walk away with the hotel’s phone, didn’t you?” Regulus said, trying to hold back a snicker. 

“Shut up, or I’m not coming.” He hung the phone up and, rubbing his rump, left his room. 

It wasn’t until he was approaching Regulus’s room that he realised he’d never gotten an answer if Sirius was there to let him in. He really didn’t want Regulus to have to hop all the way through to open the door.

As luck would have it, Dr Lupin had just raised his hand to knock on the door. “Dr Lupin,” James called out, waving at the man and jogging the last few steps to get to him. “You here to check on Regulus’s ankle?” He asked with a big smile breaking across his face. 

“Oh, er—I mean—Yes, yes. That’s right. Regulus’s ankle—Yep—Exactly.” The young doctor seemed flustered, with a pink flush creeping over his face. He was saved from further explanation when the door suddenly opened. 

“Remus!” Sirius beamed at him. His face dropped when he saw James standing next to him. 

“Hello, Mr Black. I’m here to check on Regulus’s ankle.” Remus stared straight at Sirius. 

“Huh? Oh—Yeah, brilliant. Thank you, Dr Lupin.” Sirius moved aside and let him in. James flicked his head between the two men but couldn’t figure out what he was missing. He shrugged his shoulders and followed them in. 

They crowded into Regulus’s room, much to Regulus’s surprise. 

“Hello, Regulus. How are you today? I’ve come to check your ankle.” Remus got Regulus to stand and move a few steps as he observed and nodded at his progress. “Excellent. It’s healing well. You can probably do some light exercise with it now. Walk around the suite at least today and try a bit further tomorrow. You should be almost back to normal by the time you go home, though I’m afraid I can’t recommend any more skiing while you’re here.” Remus told him in his doctor’s voice. 

“Thank you, Dr Lupin,” Regulus said as he lowered himself back onto the bed. 

“You’re welcome,” Remus said, straightening his jumper. “I’ve taken enough of your time. If you want a final check before you leave, let me know.” He turned towards the door.

“I’ll see you out,” Sirius told him, following him through the door.

“Hi,” Regulus murmured once they were alone. 

“Hi,” James sighed and sunk onto the end of the bed. 

“I’m sorry if he said anything to upset you. I’ve blocked his number now. Hopefully, he’ll get the message.” They sat there in awkward silence. 

Regulus shuffled himself up the bed so he was propped up by his pillows. “Can we just forget that moron spoke to you and just go back to how we were this morning?” He asked hopefully. “I found a film I think you might like. It’s all romantic, and there’s sword fighting and pirates and Rodents of unusual size.” He smiled shyly at James as he flicked the TV on. 

With very little encouragement, James flopped backwards next to Regulus. 

Regulus immediately snuggled into his side and nudged James’s arm until he wrapped it around him. Regulus sighed contentedly as he put the film on.    

Next part

[aroace-number-eight]

There's an analysis to be made about the LL series and how the writers design characters you're meant to hate, and how the way they're designed indicates the type of role they're meant to play and whether you're supposed to hate them but realize their nuance as interesting characters or smash their head down a pike

[leaving-fragments]

names with common nicknames are so weird. william is rather snobby, bill is a sweaty uncle, willy is connoted with penises, billy with goats. but will is a fighter, a kind-hearted swordsman, a lost-eyed boy. but they're all the same name really

[whimsical-mistakes]

evan would get barty lifts for his birthday and he would unironically wear them for like a week to prove to evan that he doesn’t care and there basically no difference

until he falls. down stairs.

Remus is taller than Sirius.

James is taller than Regulus.

Evan in taller than Barty by barely five centimeters.

Rosekiller is the only one who cares about the height difference.

[my-castles-crumbling]

amortentia - January 17 - black brothers - wolfstar - background jegulus - @black-brothers-microfic - word count: 468

“How did you know you were gay?”

Startled by the question, Regulus nearly lost his grip on his broom, and had to take a moment to collect himself before turning to his brother, who was flying next to him. “Pardon?” he asked, still shocked.

“I - how did you know you were gay?” Sirius repeated himself, still infuriatingly unclear.

"Well after about the fourth time kissing a bloke, I realized I didn't hate it," Regulus replied, completely deadpan.

But Sirius just sighed, not laughing at all.

It was at this point, Regulus decided they needed to have this conversation on the ground, so he flew to the stands and sat, Sirius following him. “What’s wrong, Sirius?” he asked, safely seated on the uncomfortable benches.

“I…we learned about Amortentia in potions today,” Sirius mumbled, staring out into the pitch.

Ah, the Love Potion. “And?” Regulus probed, pretty sure where this was going. Because anyone who had eyes could see how Sirius looked at a certain tall, slightly-clumsy werewolf.

“My Amortentia…it smelled like…” Sirius whispered, like he couldn’t fully say it.

“Amortentia can smell like platonic or familial love, too” Regulus reminded him comfortingly. “Amongst other more…confusing things, I can smell the Quidditch pitch and your hair potion in mine…” he offered, trying not to cringe at the vulnerability of the statement. 

“Yeah…but I don’t think it’s like that,” his older brother confessed, finally looking at Regulus with tears welling in his eyes. “I think I’m just a bit thick and I didn’t realize.”

“Well, you are that,” Regulus chuckled. “Sirius, you know liking Remus doesn’t make you gay, right? You could be bi, or pan, or…whatever.”

“Yeah. I just…it’s a lot,” Sirius sighed, turning away again. “Do you think he’ll hate me?”

Imagining the way Remus looked at Sirius, the equally-adoring stares and heart eyes, Regulus chuckled. “No. Pretty sure his Amortentia smells like your disgusting socks and stupidly expensive cologne. I’d bet money on it, actually.”

Sirius’s face turned red. “You think?” he asked hopefully, eyes wide.

“Remus is gayer than I am,” Regulus assured him. “And I’d bet my broom he’s especially gay for you.”

Looking unsure, Sirius nodded. “I…yeah, I just…okay. I…thank you.”

“Look at you, disappointing out parents again,” Regulus joked with a wry smile. “You keep outdoing yourself.”

At this, Sirius laughed. “It’s a talent,” he quipped.

Unsure of what else to say, Regulus murmured, “If you ever need to talk..”

“I know, get you drunk, and then get emotional,” the older boy grinned.

Regulus smirked. “Exactly. Now, where were we?”

But as they both stood to again take to the skies, Sirius turned. “I steal it from James, by the way. The hair potion. If you ever wanted to use it too, or whatever.”

And then he shot off, leaving Regulus completely stunned.

[luveline]

𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

remus’ touch after a long night prompts a tired confession (and a slew of clumsy kisses). 

requested here. modern au. fem!reader, 3.6k.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

“I'm going to bed,” Sirius mumbles, scratching at his eyes as he gets up. “Don't let her sleep in her makeup. She'll get an eye infection.” 

Your eyes are getting sore, but it's hardly Remus' responsibility to make sure you wash your face tonight, nor Sirius’ to remind you. “I'm a big girl.” 

Sirius sends you a smile, ignoring your chiding. “Goodnight, my loves,” he says, waving you both away as he heads out of the living room and up the stairs. 

“Notice how he didn't do his dishes?” Remus asks, shifting beside you. 

He's sitting as he tends to, slouched in a way that can't be good for his back in the long run but is clearly comfortable short term. His chin is on his chest, his legs kicked out under the coffee table, which is decorated by the casualties of the night. Sirius’ dinner plate, Remus’ mug, James’ rarely used handheld console. He'd been playing a cutesy farming sim before he said goodnight an hour ago. Sirius stayed to mess with James’ crops and eat a late supper. You're surprised it took him as long as it did to admit defeat. 

“What time is it?” you ask. 

You're laying on the sofa with your socked feet tucked behind Remus’ back, of which he's yet to complain. His elbow brushes your shin as he brings up his arm. “Nearly one in the morning, now,” he reads from his watch. “Let's go to bed too, yeah?” 

“I don't want to.” You turn your face into the pillow behind your neck.

“Me neither,” Remus says, dropping his hand on your knee.

You watch another twenty minutes of TV together failing to summon the energy to stand, but the want for a glass of water grows too big. Your head throbs as you get up, offering your hands to the pretzel that is your favourite housemate.

Remus turns off the TV and lights. You lock the front door. He carries the dirty dishes to the kitchen and you fill up two glasses of water to take with you. It's all so… regular. A routine you share nearly every night, only to climb into your two separate beds. 

He ushers you out of the kitchen and down the hallway with his hand behind your shoulders, his touch a phantom as you ascend the stairs.

You're silent beside the creak of the old wood, too tired to speak. Remus is similarly quiet, though he does whisper, “Watch,” when you nearly kick the box of Halloween decorations waiting to be taken up into the attic. 

You leave your water on the towel box in the alcove and dance around one another in the bathroom. Sirius’ toothbrush lays on the sink still wet, but otherwise there's no signs of him. 

You're feeling very, very tired. You hadn't realised how bad it was until you're putting your toothbrush in your mouth, leant up against the window sill, a slot of cold air seeping in from the dark outside. Your eyes shutter closed. The scrubbing sound of Remus brushing his teeth is almost lulling. 

He swills out his mouth and washes his brush. “Here,” he says gently. You open your eyes just enough to see him beckoning you forward. “Dove, your necklace.” 

“Oh. Thanks.” You turn your back to him. 

His fingers are damp and cool on your skin as he unclasps your necklace. He often takes it off for you. It's one of the things you'll miss when you guys aren't living together anymore, the slow meander to his bedroom, the wood of his door jam on your cheek as you lean against it and give him a hopeful smile. Sometimes he's awake, reading a novel on his side in bed or listening to music at his desk, other times he's sleeping. On those occasions you spend too long lingering, stolen seconds spent staring at the rise and fall of his shoulder. 

“Thank you,” you say as he puts your necklace in the jewellery dish. It comes out missing vowels, lips stuck together as though honeyed. 

You spit pathetically in the sink, rinse your brush, and consider sitting down. “I'm tired,” you whine, wiping your lips. 

“I know,” Remus says, giving you a fond nudge. “Just wash your face and get on with it.” 

“You first. I'm going to nap standing up for a bit.” 

He puts as much of his hair behind his ears as he can and turns on the tap. This is just as familiar as brushing your teeth together. It's not quite as bad as watching James Perfect Skin Potter wash his face with bar soap, but you have to admit that Remus’ eight-nine pence face soap hurts your heart. He washes it off, pats his face dry, and takes the small bottle of bio oil out of the medicine cabinet to pipette onto his pinky finger. “Wash your face,” he says, smoothing the oil into his scars one by one. 

You shake your head. “M'gonna do it in the morning.” 

“That's why your eye was swollen a few weeks ago. You know yourself you won't.” 

“I might,” you say, letting out a big breath as you rub your sore eyes even sorer, “I'm too tired.” 

“Can you sit up, at least?” 

“No.” Remus takes you by the shoulders and forces you to sit on the edge of the bath. “Aggressive?” 

“Don't fall in,” he says, cupping your cheek briefly as if to make sure you've heard. 

You are hearing him, seeing him, even feeling the immensity of his touch, but you're tired, and you know you can let yourself relax completely with him. You'd be the same with James or Sirius, though neither of them could have your head feeling so dizzyingly light from a single touch as Remus can. You probably wouldn't let them persuade you into this, either, tilting your head back to watch through blurry vision as Remus soaks a cotton round in your facial oil. 

“Close your eyes,” he says. 

“Was that a dracula impression?” 

“I command you.” 

You close your eyes. The queasy feeling of oil drags against your lids as Remus wipes them, loosening the stiff tubes of mascara that coat your lashes. It's not a short process because he's very, very gentle, holding your face delicately as though you're a flower in need of coddling, and him the sun. It's the only metaphor that would ever make sense for you and Remus; he's like the sun even if it goes against every statement he's ever made about himself, or anyone else has, for that matter. People think he's a moody, sarcastic boy, and he is, but he's also a vestibule of sweetness, softness, and warmth. The kind of heat you'd only ever feel kissing your skin under the summer sun. But more than that, he's the relief that follows when the clouds come out. 

And his hands are all over you. Your head gets heavier by the minute, eased into dozing by his touch and quiet tones. “We're almost done. I'm gonna have to carry you to bed at this rate.” 

“I'm going to miss this so much one day,” you say. It's easier to admit when you're not looking at him. 

Remus turns on the tap. Hot water runs, you can tell by the sound as strange as it seems, and he wrings the dirtied cotton round before replacing it with a new one. He wets it, bringing it just that touch too hot to your cheeks to wipe you down. “What are you going to miss, dove?” 

“Us. You. I'm going to miss you.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere, but one day I will be. James will finally have had enough of us and I'll,” —you swallow around nothing as a rivulet of water runs down your cheek, a cooling tear from the cotton round— “have to move out and we'll never see each other anymore.” 

“Don't be silly, you're not going anywhere.” 

“It's not about the going,” you murmur, peeling your eyes open tentatively as his dabbing follows down your cheek to your neck. “I miss you sometimes and we still live together. I can't imagine how much I'll miss you…” 

Remus puts the cotton round aside. He takes your face into his hand, and suddenly his touch feels raw, nothing like it had moments ago. Because Remus would wash your makeup off for you any day of the week, but his looking at you like this, so unshielded and unabashed, is a rarity. 

“You won't have to miss me. Even if we did move away from each other, I wouldn't let it be that far.” 

“Friends move away all the time. We don't speak to half the people we knew at school.” 

“I only really knew you and the boys,” he says. It isn't true but it is at the same time. Together, you'd been a happy lot, but your current housemates are the ones you'd known. “And see? We're still together.” 

“But for how long?” you ask. 

Remus brings his second hand, holding your face entirely. He covers your cheeks, index fingers sliding slowly under your ears. He's exceedingly gentle, and his eyes are soft. He holds you like you're made of glass, like you could break under a hint of pressure. Slowly, he tilts his head to the side as though he might lean in for a kiss. Maybe he doesn't know he's doing it, but Remus is a very purposeful soul. He'd do much worse to wind you up if you wanted him to. 

You sober up. It's like he has caffeine in his palms. 

“You want to go where I'm going, is that it?” he asks quietly. 

“Yeah,” you say, barely say, voice shame-facedly weak. Is he asking what you think he is?

“Do you want to start now?” 

You breathe out as one of his hands shifts down your jaw. “Yeah, I… I want to start now.” 

“Okay, dove. Then close your eyes again.” 

You hold his gaze for a second that feels infinitely long and short at once, your heart racing. Clarity has returned, a thrust into wakefulness even if your fatigue ties knots around your ankles. You look at him in his late night glory, his scars shining a pink-white like the petals of a young peony flower, and you know it's happening now. 

You shut your eyes. 

He steps closer, though the bath you're perched on is low, and he has to bend a considerable amount to reach you. The weight of his hands on you doesn't change, not even as he grows near enough to sense the heat of his breath against your lips. It's his nose that makes first contact as it slides against yours, and then his forehead presses down into you, his lips noticeably absent. Each contiguity between you thrums. 

A pit opens in your chest, cleaved by his voice as he says, “I'm going to kiss you, okay? S'that what you want?” 

Your hands don't feel like your own. Under the sickening nervousness twining its way through your ribs, you're excited. You're smiling, your voice shaped by it. “Yeah. It's what I want,” you say. 

“Good. It's what I've wanted for a while–” while pressed into your lips, all shaken up by an emotion you've never heard him speak with. He kisses you and you're frozen, and he waits and waits and pulls away to push back in. You remember yourself then, responding to his wading with some pressure of your own. Sparked back to life. 

It's so strange. It doesn't feel real. Remus Lupin kisses you heated and hard for just long enough to feel it in your teeth before he pulls away. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his fingertip running down your cheek, following that same path as your earlier rivulet. To think he saw it, really saw it, locked it away to remember and trace into your skin now… maybe he's seen much more of you than you realised all along. 

“Will you do it again?” you say under your breath. 

Remus must hear the thread of insecurity running through your question; you're afraid he'll say no, but he strokes your cheek again with that unfathomable softness and says, “Yeah, dove, of course I will.” 

“Do you want to?” 

And that's less insecurity and more selfishness, wanting the confession. He hears that, too. 

“I want to kiss you more than I've ever wanted anything,” he says, eye to eye with you, your head tipped up and your heart in your throat, twitching and fizzling like a firecracker. “Yeah? And all that missing me you've been doing? All your worrying? You don't need to do that. You've never needed to do that–” 

“I just never thought you liked me like that.” You and Remus aren't new to one another. “You've been the same since the day we met.” 

Remus’ hands get a little more solid where he's holding you. “Dove. Dove, are you mad?” 

“Remus–” 

“Maybe I have been the same, but did you really not notice that I–” He squeezes your cheeks playfully, almost in disbelief. “If you want me, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere without you. You're not going anywhere without me.” 

“So you like me?” 

“Yes,” he says, his eyebrows pinched together at the starts. “Of course I do.” He laughs. “That's what I'm trying to tell you.” 

“Oh,” you say, lifting your head. 

Remus shuts his eyes a millisecond before you shut your own and kisses you again. The second round is softer, his smile to yours and struggling to find purchase. His breath huffs out in a minty laugh, shockwaves through your mouth. 

“Stop laughing,” he breathes, his hands falling to your neck, your shoulders.

“You first.” 

Your lips part under his, a split-second of contact. He yanks away before things can get too heavy, and you're glad he does, but for a moment you feel the loss like a wave of vertigo. 

“Sorry, I'm going too fast, and you're tired.” His touch is ticklish behind your shoulder. 

“It's okay. Maybe it is a bit fast, but I'm not tired anymore,” you confess. 

Remus hugs you, cementing every feeling for him you have as he wraps his arms around you from over your shoulders, a deft hand cupped behind your neck. “That's not true. I can feel your back shaking. Let's go to bed.” 

“After that?” 

“What, are you worried it won't have happened in the morning?” he asks genuinely. 

You go limp in his arms as he takes your weight against his chest. Not worried, but rather not sure you can be away from him so soon. You ask him in a whisper if you can come and sit with him, not to sleep with him, not to do anything else, and he whispers back, Anything you want. You both entertain the lie that you won't fall asleep in his bed. 

—

Remus tenses as he hears the scuffling sounds of movement downstairs. It takes a train of thought awakening for him to realise it's only James, rising early as usual to put on a load of washing and prepare bits for lunch before he goes off for training. He can see him in his mind's eye if he tries, his friend dressed in the red and white rugby uniform, green socks up over his calves and white cleats scrubbed pristine for another ruck in the mud. 

Remus’ relaxes, stretching out in bed until his hand bumps into something rigid. 

He flinches. 

You're laying on the mattress beside him, your head slipped off of the pillows and your arm tucked beneath you. It doesn't look comfortable, and if it were any other morning he'd pull it straight for you, but. 

I kissed you, he thinks to himself, as though talking to you. He turns away from you until his back clicks and alleviates the ache in his hips, though he has to settle eventually, back on his back, no way of ignoring you. He doesn't want to ignore you. The opposite —why are you so far away? Can he hold you? 

What are the rules here? 

Kissing… not dating… You're here in his bed, you'd asked to stay. 

He takes your hand and pulls at your arm. Still sleeping, you mumble and move onto your back, releasing the pressure on your shoulder as he pulls you toward his chest. Your face is impassive, lax in sleep. 

He should let you sleep. 

“Dove,” he says, stroking up the length of your arm. 

“Mm?” you hum. 

“I need to ask you something.” 

You twitch awake with a small cough. Your eyes are red with a lack of sleep as you open them, blinking, and he wishes stupidly that he could make it better. He makes a sympathetic sound for want of more to do. 

“Why have you woken me up?” you ask, blinking at him. You gather that there's nothing urgent happening and push your face into his shoulder, practically nuzzling him. “It's Saturday.” 

“I just need to ask you something.” 

“So ask me,” you encourage through your sleepiness. 

The washing machine whirs downstairs. It’s an old machine that you often joke is taking off into orbit during the final spin, loud as anything. He can barely hear your sluggish breathing underneath it, but he can't miss the catch in it after he asks, “Can I be your boyfriend?” 

It's not the catch he's expecting. You laugh and readjust, wrapping your arms around him from the side and kissing the side of his neck clumsily. “Y'u asked me last night,” you say in a borderless run-on, sounding about as dopily in love as he's ever heard you. 

He thinks about it. Yes, he did, after he'd kissed you many more times than he should've and curled up in bed with you, hands held loosely beneath the blankets. He remembers the question, the answer. The last kiss that followed, and you falling asleep beside him. 

“I need a coffee,” he says, encouraging your head back so he can kiss your temple. 

“No, you need to sleep more with me. And maybe kiss me again. If you want to.” 

Sleeping isn't half as interesting as kissing you. He slots his nose against yours and languishes in the feeling of your lips, wondering if he's having a false start. He could still be dreaming. It would make sense. 

The door clatters open with a curse. James stands in the doorway with a folded pile of Remus' washing from the radiators in his arms, an apology on his lips, “Sorry, mate, the door got away from– oh my god. Oh my god?” 

Remus isn't an overly shy guy but he can't deal with this. “For fuck's sake,” he mutters, dropping his face into your shoulder. Your arm wraps under his neck, fingers splayed across his cheek. 

“James–” you begin, resigned to your fate. 

“This is flat-cest. This is the cardinal sin.” 

“We don't live in a flat,” Remus says. 

“That makes it worse. You can't even blame close quarters.” Remus peeks up to watch James in the doorway, still clinging to Remus’ washing, pure shock curdling his features. He shakes his head. “I'm telling Sirius.” 

“Please don't!” you say.

You slump back into the pillows as James leaves anyways. 

Remus hugs your soft abdomen. “Don't worry,” he says.

“I guess it's a good thing you've already asked me out,” you say. 

“Why, what can they do?” Remus asks, wondering if he's allowed to put his face on your chest or if that's too forward. You rake a hand through his hair and encourage him forward, to his delight. 

Frantic words. You and Remus loved up in bed despite it. 

“I'm chucking them out!” 

“James, they've been seeing for weeks. Can I go back to sleep?” 

“What?!” 

You grumble into his hair. “That's not even true… Does everyone know, then? That I liked you?” 

Remus thinks of the shadow of you in the doorway, that sheepish smile you send his way before you ask him to unclasp your necklace before bed, or your face as he’d wiped the sooty stain of mascara from your cheek last night, half in love with him as you fell asleep in his palm. 

“I don't think so, lovely,” he comforts. “Don't worry about it. We'll clear it up at lunch time. James isn't even mad, he's just sulking thinking we didn't tell him.”

“How could you not tell me?” James asks on cue, rounding the door again, arms ever tighter around the bundle of Remus’ clothes. He assumes it's being kept hostage. “I thought we were best mates.” 

“James,” you say softly, all sympathy. 

Remus likes the feeling of your voice under his ear, and your slightly too-quick heartbeat. He could fall asleep here and now if it weren't for the company. 

“It's new,” you're saying, softness melded to a sweet pride. “Okay? I've barely told Remus how I feel, of course I was going to tell you. We were only talking about it last night. It really hasn't been weeks, Sirius is a stirrer.” 

Remus pulls the covers up over your heads and climbs on top of you in a rush, demanding that the both of you be left alone, to James’ great annoyance but your delight, your laughter loud in the shell of his ear. Your chest shakes with it beneath him. 

A great wad of fabric hits him in the legs. “Twats,” James says, seemingly stalking off. 

Your whisper sends shivers down his spine. “We're alone again. Do you have anything else to ask me while you're too tired to remember?” you tease. 

There's not a chance in the world that Remus would ever forget this. 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thanks for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed, it's been a little bit since I wrote for remus like this so I was actually a bit nervous and I hope it's okay :D <3

[angelltheninth]

You know how guys have the happy trail? What do you think the MCU men's is like?

Gonna tell you something Anon, I love it when guys have that. It's cute and attractive.

Pairing: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton, Thor, Loki, James “Logan" Howlett, Remy Lebeau, Kurt Wagner, Tony Stark, Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, suggestive, body worship, teasing, muscles, established relationship

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Probably one of the most attractive things on guys. At least to me. Other than strong hands.

Steve keeps himself very neat, not really because of you, not at first, it's just a habit that he still has from his army days. That being said he didn't miss the way you look at him when he does it. He knows you're looking so he takes his time.

Bucky is a bit more clumsy with it since losing his arm. His new one is good but it's cold on his skin when he needs to groom himself and be nice. But... maybe you can give him a hand when he needs it.

Clint doesn't bother with it much because he doesn't have much of a visible happy trail. It is there when you really look or run your hand down his abs. That being said he doesn't quite see why you like it so much, it's just body hair.

Thor never quite cared to keep himself overly well groomed or to cut down on any body hair. When he tried his hair grew back rougher, which you can feel as you touch his stomach. To him it was never something he had to think about, besides you like it.

Loki brags about how good he looks. Every part of him, even the happy trail which he always keeps well maintained. As he gets ready for bed he might take it slower, to give you time to look.

Logan has always been covered in a lot of rough, bushy hair and his happy trail is no different. For him it's like a path that you can follow as you kiss his body. In fact he has referred to it as that numerous time, making you blush at the implications.

Remy often gets asked if his hair is red everywhere, and yes it is. He chuckles when he tells you that you should check for yourself. Despite how he may seem he does keep himself well trimmed, from his belly all the way down.

Kurt does have a bit more hair there and it's quite soft and fluffy. It's one of the rare parts on his body that's not as cold as the rest of him. But it is quite dark, almost black in contrast with his blue skin.

Tony wants you to look at him as he gets changed. He wears his pants a bit lower when he knows he can work from home. Seeing you ready to kiss every inch of him won't make work easier.

Peter has a happy trail but it's a bit sparse. He doesn't have much body hair on his belly and is a bit ticklish when you touch him there. It's one of his weaknesses so he always blushes when you do it.