#stupid fag I hate him

[ossiethegreat]

I was too lazy to color this. Anyway can you guys tell I’m brainrotting on their dynamic……….

Killer belongs to rahafwabas

Delta belongs to AnimatedZorox

[pyebald]

spy is canonically queer in some way SCCCCRREEEEEAAAAMMMS

[daigo-rikuto]

Hey @se-venden-flores , u didnt want to see my art posts? Well now YOU block me, u fag. Ill tag u in all of em :3

[petew21-blog]

Homophobic gym teacher

I hate PE. I hate it so freaking much that I’d rather have history with Mr. Douglas every day than to run in front of Mr. Mills every day. He hates me, ever since I came out as gay at school I received mostly good feedback from others. Even my bullies were kinda nice about it. Thank God I live in the twenty first century. But one person didn’t really take It well.

I browsed through his instagram a few times. And while I looked for the perfect photo of him flexing his biceps, showing his abs or anything that would help me for my jerk off session, I found out that he was quite hardcore republican. How a person like this could get into education is beyond me.

As always I finished jerking off while looking at his regular bathroom gym photo. Man, what I would give to fuck him. Why do jerks always have the perfect body?

My phone buzzed. I snapped back into reality. Jack, my friend who is also gay, but not out yet, texted me.

“Hey, are we gonna ditch school tomorrow? I can’t hear any more of that Mills bullshit while we climb the rope”

“We’re gonna be rope climbing? Ah fuck me. He’s gonna be insufferable.”

“My thoughts exactly. So? Are we skipping school?”

“I can’t man. I gotta keep up my attendance after missing so many days thanks to Mr. Mills”

Next day, 2:29 PM

I stood next to the rope, waiting for Jake to finish his turn. Mr. Mills stood below him, screaming. Jake couldn’t get to the top. Mr. Mills told him to get down and screamed at him some more. What an asshole. It was my turn. The bell rang. “Fuck yeah. No more rope climbing for me.” My classmates, me included, turned to head to the lockers.

Mr. Mills: ”González? Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Me: ”Sir, the class is over and it’s Friday.”

Mr. Mills: ”The class is over when I say it is over. Get on the fucking rope and stop talking back at me. The rest of you can leave.”

I got close to the rope. I grabbed it and squeezed the rope between my feet. I started pulling myself up and immediately felt the pain of lifting myself. I knew I was weak, I didn’t really need some wannabe teacher slash gym freak to remind me and scream at me what a lazy piece of shit I am. I tried to ignore him. I gave myself a goal to just finish it and leave, but Mr. Mills stood directly below me to comment on my fat ass slowing me down.

I was almost at the top, a wave of happiness swept over me. “Shit, I’m gonna make it!”

And right then I slipped. And instead of locking my feet, I just let go off the rope.

THUD

“I survived. Fuck. I fell from the freaking rope. My head was hurting so hard. My head? But I thought that I fell on my back? Ahhh the pain.”

I opened my eyes. My vision was blurry from the fall. I tried blinking several times and my vision was slowly getting better. I lifted my arm to grab on my head, but as I did it didn’t feel right. I looked at my arm. It was bigger. As in full of muscles.

“What the hell?” I said out loud, but instead of my young squeaky almost too feminine voice a low baritone came out of my throat.

“How the fuck…?!” I looked to my left. There was my body getting up from the ground

Me: ”Mr. Mills?”

Mr. Mills: ”Ah you gotta be fucking kidding me?! Is that you González?”

Me: ”I… Yes. How… How did this happen?” Mr. Mills: ”Does it look like this happens to me a lot?”

Me: ”But… it’s scientifically impossible”

Mr. Mills: ”I bet this was caused by those covid vaccines to make you immigrant fags take over our lives.”

Me: ”Yeah… right. Cause everyone wants to be a stupid republican”

Mr. Mills: ”Shut your mouth or…” he was interrupted by the janitor telling us to leave so he can lock the school. Mr. Mills gave me his car keys and I gave him instructions how to find my locker. We decided to meet each other in his car and to figure out what to do after that.”

After many unsuccessful attempts I found his Chevrolet and entered the passenger’s seat. Few moments later, I realized that I’m gonna be the one driving so I switched seats and got behind the wheel for the first time in my life. His car was amazing, it smelt great and was clean. How should I even drive this thing? I don’t drive a car. I’ll get us into trouble.

I stopped overthinking about the car. “I am in my teachers body. The one who bullied me almost every day. I am an adult male.” I looked into the rearview mirror. “Fuck, I am in one of the hottest man’s body around. And I am wasting it just worrying here. I flexed and squeezed my new biceps. Fuuuck. It’s so huge. I checked if no one else was around and lifted up my shirt.

“Oh my gooood” I slammed my head into the seat. “This is so hot!”

My new abs and pecs now uncovered were the most perfect ones I have ever seen. The ones I jerk off to every night before sleep. And now it’s here. All for me.

I opened my eyes and saw Mr. Mills in my body approaching the car. And behind him ran Jake. They entered the car.

I tried to improvise: „Why is your friend here?”

Jake: „Holy shit. So it is true. Mr. Mills would never react so calm. Is that really you in there, Daniel?”

I turned at Mr. Mills who now had a very irritated face. “I didn’t say anything, he figured it out.”

Jake: „I didn’t believe it at first, but Daniel never swears like this. And your vocabulary isn’t exactly rich so I knew really quickly where I heard the phrases before. Damn, I’m good. So? What are we gonna do? We should test it out somehow. Shit, Daniel you should get drunk tonight!”

Mr. Mills: „No! There won’t be no drinking, touching or anything with my body. This is definitely temporary and we will be back by tomorrow morning.”

Me: „If you think so…”

I drove Jake and my body home. Mr. Mills had to give me a speed course of driving, but his muscle memory helped me out way more than I thought. We set up some ground rules. No drinking, no drugs, no permanent changes to our bodies, no photos and no sex. He left the car while saying something about a fag in his body, but I couldn’t care less anymore. I speeded to get to his house asap.

I didn’t really explore the house as much when I arrived. I went straight to where I thought was the bedroom and immediately started taking off my clothes. His black speedo was PACKING and getting tighter every minute, but I really wanted to make this first exploration as perfect as possible. I lifted up the shirt, touching my new hairless and fatless stomach. I flexed and sets of abs appeared. I touched every last one of them. My hand continued up to my new large pecs.

“God damn, Mr. Mills. These are some perfect man titties.” I squeezed them. They looked so tight in all the photos, but when I wasn’t flexing them, they were quite soft. Must be amazing to lay on these. I played with them some more before taking off my shirt and releasing my new hairy pits. I took a long whiff off them. “I smell like a proper MAN now!” I licked it as well, enjoying the salty taste of Mr. Mills’s pits. I looked at myself in the mirror. My new dick was hard as a rock and waited for me to take care of it.

I headed to the shower and turned on a hot water. “Your body is probably not used to a hot water, am I right, Mr. Mills? I bet you are one of those cold water freaks who bathe in the icy waters.” I hated his voice before, but right now as I was controlling it, I began to like it so much.

The water poured all over my large body, from the perfect face, over my massive pecs, hairless abs and right to my beautiful dick. “Nice dick, Mr. Mills!” I said and chuckled over the fact that I just said that.

I suddenly got a mischievous idea. I came out of the shower and texted Jake.

Jake: „I can’t believe I’m doing this. I am just squeezing Mr. Mills’s pecs and touching his abs. Can you believe it, Daniel?”

Me: „It’s wild, right? But I got an idea. Wanna make it more interesting?”

Jake: „Interesting how?”

Me: „Stop touching me you lazy fag” I said in an authoritative voice and Jake moved his hands away from me quickly.

Jake: „Why did you do that? I got scared.”

Me: „I bet you are scared, you little fag. I know you just came over so that you could jerk off you little dick and watch me enjoy myself.”

Jake: „Daniel?”

Me: „Daniel won’t save you right now. You will do as I say. Ok?”

Jake finally caught up to my roleplay scenario and started acting as well. And by the look of his face I knew that he was really into it.

Jake: „Yes, Mr. Mills. I will do whatever you say.”

I sat down on the couch watching. “I want you to admire my body and say how hot I am and how horny it makes you.”

Jake got his hands on MY body and got a bit nervous: „You have sexy abs, Mr. Mills.”

Me: „You think that’s enough? That they are just sexy?”

Jake: „I think they’re the hottest abs I have ever seen”

Me: „How about my biceps. You like them?”

Jake: „They are SO big. I want you to squeeze my head in them. I want to lick your armpit hair. I want to kiss you.”

Me: „That’s a good boy. How about you show me how good you are, you fag?”

I moved his hands over to my new hard crotch.

Jake smiled and licked his lips

I fucking love being in this body.

And I bet Jake’s ass is gonna love this body even more.

[humiliatemeplesse]

When the faggot told it's Dom boyfriend that it had a fetish for sniffing guy's sweaty smelly socked feet, it hoped that He would understand since it believed He loved it and that He would help it satiate it's need. However, its boyfriend laughed at it and told it that it was pathetic to have such a lowly, stupid fetish. But, He said, if that's what you need, I'll give it to you since you're such a good boy otherwise. The fag filled with excitement and thanked its boyfriend over and over. The next night, when it's boyfriend came home from work and the gym, both places where He wore the same pair of socks in His work boots and workout shoes, He told the fag to lay on the floor at the foot of the couch where He was sitting. He put both sweaty, smelly, stinking socked feet on the faggots face and used it as His footstool all night long. He told the faggot it was not to speak or get up to do anything, to not even move. The only thing it could do was raise its hand if it had to use the toilet. That was it. So the faggot smothered under it's bf's stinking socked feet for hours and hours, their heavy weight on its face. The next day, the same thing happened. And the next day. And the next day. At first the fag was thrilled with this treatment, but eventually it felt like it was too much, that it'd like to have some "nights off" or maybe do it only three days a week. It got up the nerve to ask its bf one morning when it was making breakfast for them before work. it's bf looked it straight in the eye and said in a very serious time of authority, you asked for this, I think it's ridiculous and frankly embarrassing for you. If I had known this about you I wouldn't have even dated you nevermind moved in with you. But, you've been such a good boy otherwise and do everything I tell you to do that I decided to give you this one thing. This one pathetic, embarrassing thing. You asked for it, I've given it to you. So now you're going to accept my incredible gift and shut the fuck up and not complain about it or you can pack your shit and leave. Now I'd hate that, but it's up to you. I'm giving you a gift, take it or not. But this is going to be every night, and on weekends too. This is what you want and as they say, be careful what you ask for. The fag apologized and begged for forgiveness and got in the floor and kissed it's bf's boots. It was never discussed again and the fag ended up hating having it's bf's sweaty socked feet on its face every single day but there was nothing it could do about it. So it suffered in His sock stink every single day for the rest of its life. it's bf got a hard-on while this happened every day due to the sadistic nature of how He handled it, with complete, unquestioned control of His little slave sub bf. He'd often make it suck Him off right after but the fag never associated the act with any sadism on its bf's part.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Help me! I'm hypnotized...

The loser roommate I got stuck with did something to my brain. I didn't think it was possible, but that pathetic fag somehow put me in a trance. I don't remember how: with a pendant or spiral; but it doesn't matter! What matters is that at any second he can say a trigger word, and I end up like this: smiling and flexing like a fucking idiot 'till he releases me.

Sure, I look like I'm alright, but I've been stuck in this pose for two hours. My biceps ache and my shoulders are on fire. Add to that a leg cramp that I cant walk off and you'll realize how awful this torture is.

I'd just been trying to finish an essay (his essay to be exact.) I might be on the football team, but this lazy geek is forcing me to do his homework for him! And even though he ordered me to do that, against my will, he calls me up and says my fucking trigger word! It's fucking ridiculous! I used to go out and party with my teammates on nights like this, but now I'm stuck being this dweeb's mannequin-on-command.

I just know he's going to boss me around when he finally gets here. He'll probably make me cook him dinner again. I'd spit in it if I could -hell, I'd probably poison it if I could- but I know I'll be stuck in my own body again. I hate it when he tells me to smile and serve him like a waiter. God, its humiliating...

He makes me workout during my free time, which I have a lot of now that I can't speak to any of my old buddies. I gotta say that my body's never looked better. I guess their is one upside to being under his control: whenever he tells me to train harder, I have to do it.

The gym is the one area of my life where I can at least pretend that I'm not someone's trained monkey. Still, the fact that I can't even shower without his permission is a pretty harsh reminder. Whenever I get back from a workout, my legs march straight to the table where I sit, flex, and smile while I wait for him to tell me what to do. It doesn't matter how tired or hot I am. Sometimes, he doesn't even let me shower. He just tells me to mop the sweat up with my shirt and then put it back on.

I think the nerd has a thing for sweaty jocks or something. The thought of this creep making me do all this to get his little dick hard pisses me off more than anything...

I applied for a job today. It wasn't because I wanted to. My roommate decided that he wants more spending money, so he turned to me and said that I was going to earn it for him. So it wasn't enough for me to be his personal chef, maid, and eye candy! I have to be his fucking ATM now too?!

The tie wasn't my idea either. He told me to go buy some fancy clothes to make sure I impressed my "future employer." He's such a dweeb, and now he's making me dress like a loser too.

Obviously I nailed the interview. It wasn't hard when he programmed me to say things like "I've always wanted to deliver pizzas," or "I want to be the best employee you've ever had!" He made me sound like such a kiss-ass for a stupid minimum-wage job. Even the guy interviewing me thought I was being a bit excessive! I got hired on the spot, and I'm already scheduled every night this week, because my roommate specifically made me ask for as many hours as possible.

Now that I'm done with probably the most humiliating thing I've ever done, I'm stuck flexing with a tie on 'till that asshole gets home...

I got my first paycheck after a long couple of weeks doing his classwork during the day and delivering pizzas at night. My roommate texted and told me to wait by the front door with my paycheck. Apparently, he's going out tonight with some of his loser friends and wants the cash now. I can't believe I'm about to hand it over to him.

"Hey, handsome," he calls, shutting his car door.

"I'm glad your home, sir. How was your day?"

I do not give a shit about his day! He ordered me to say that whenever he gets back. He's also programmed me to get up and hug him like I'm a fucking queer in love!

"Better now," he purrs, squeezing my butt cheek while we hug, "You should come with me and my friends tonight."

The last thing I want to do is be around him and his pansy-assed friends. "Yes, sir," I smile.

"We're going to a gay bar, and I think you would be an excellent wingman."

My stomach drops at the sound of a gay bar. I don't want to be anywhere near that place, and I really don't want the guy with total control over me parading me around that place like I'm his fucking slut! Where is this going? He wouldn't make me do anything gay, right? The terrifying truth is he could. He could order me to act like a stripper there, or...or worse. Fuck! I don't think there's anything he couldn't make me do. He could order me on my knees right now, and I'd do it with this stupid smile still plastered across my face. He could make me blow his tiny cock, and I'd be helpless to do anything other than enthusiastically suck! I don't want to go to that gay bar. I have to escape.

"Yes, sir," I hear my voice gleefully ring out.

[dustcrumbs]

I feel like Horror would flip between vicious guard dog and pathetic puppy in like two seconds flat. And Dust finds both of them adorable/hot. However I imagine he'd react differently to them (Dust cannot express himself to save his life). Guard dog would be like

"Ew. Stop doing that. That's weird you furry fag." (No gen hate to furries or fags I am them tehee <3)

And then pathetic pup would just be idk

"Get off me. Get a life."

But inside he's like wanting to kiss him or smthin idk. Brain rot.

- Socially anxious Anon <3

I really loved this. In fact, it is how I view Dust hhehe.

he acts like Horror's disgusting

when all he wants to do is lay under him and be smothered with the affection he needs. Hearing Horrors stupid Rottweiler like growls. People think he's about to get mauled but nah, Horrors just happy.

BUT GAY PEOPLE CANT SAY "I love you" THEY HAVE TO DEPRIVE THEMSELVES OF THE OTHERS AFFECTION ANS CARE AND AGHHH. KILLS DUST

[extremefrogrefrigerator]

all of the characters in interview with the vampire (2022) are so complex and are all subjected to such wild experiences but jesus CHRIST imagine being louis de pointe du lac's sister. the story starts out and your brother louis has a sketchy fucking job but you let it slide because Hey At Least He's Supporting The Family. and then one day he's like hey i have a new friend and you're like who is he and he's like French Individual. which of course is disappointing but hey! let's invite this french man over to dinner whats the worst that could happen. and turns out that the worst that could happen is mr oui oui cuntatron 9000 with his his little ponytail acting as if he has 47 large sticks shoved up his anal cavity bashing your Other brother about religion in a passionate monologue about how much he hates god and also he's not eating anything? Whatever it's your wedding day soon!! so your wedding day happens and it's banger, tap dancing and shit, but womp womp the next day your other brother Tragically dies but hey at least you've still got louis! JUST KIDDING during the vigil this blonde french fagatron tiddles and toddles up to your brother and he's like "we fucked last night why did you ghost me" to him and of course you don't have the capability to process this at the moment in your grief so you're like Whatever! but then on the night of said vigil louis proceeds to fuck off for several months where did he go? good lord how worrying. but then luckily he fucks back into the picture several months later when you host a little party! but he's got that blonde french fuckhead with him, who insults the banjo band you have in your front yard and is wearing a stupid little had but whatever! louis come inside please it's been forever. and also louis is wearing these little fucking sunglasses now so youre like Take those off what the fuck are those. and his eyes are all fucked up and Not Normal but you're like Whatever! and then he's like You Are Going To Have Twins and you're like What and he's like You Are Going To Have Twins It Will Happen ! and you're like I heard you the first time What and then he fucks off again with the blonde guy . but then turns out that you DO fucking give birth to fucking twins. you see louis and his gay ass sunglasses a few more times over the years but for the most part he's absent and also kicks your door down that one time with like. Way too much strength for a human being and also you've been hearing rumors on the town that your brother and The Worst Blonde Individual Known To Man are fagging it up homosexual style in their shared one-bedroom townhouse and and also why do you only ever see him at night? and you're not quite sure what Is Fucking Wrong with him so you think it over and you're like Hey I Think We Have To Disown This Guy .i know just how to do it let's put his gravestone in a graveyard and "bury" him and have an epic Surprise Grave Reveal when he comes over! because like what else can you do?? and then you never ever see him again . also it's like 1910

[itsjaywalkers]

nada que perder: the sequel

part 1

jegulus microfic (that isn't actually a microfic) | 7.9k (lol) | very questionable age gap (we're so back babeyyy) (nothing happens in this one either but do not fret . jegulus grooming we're getting closer) | unrequited love (OR IS IT..) | james has a gun in this one.. and considering his behaviour he really shouldn't | dedicated to my beloved @yipyipyap <3 number 1 fan of this au <3

James is hiding under the stairs in the courtyard, hoping that Andromeda won’t go out on the balcony until he’s done with his fag. She isn’t against smoking, exactly—she indulges in it whenever she drinks or is especially stressed, so it’d be quite hypocritical on her part. But still, he isn’t fond of James doing it around the kids. Andromeda and Alphard fight constantly over it, because Alphard just can’t quit it—although, it’s not like he tries—and James has seen how vicious they both can become. He refuses to be included, even if that means stepping outside and dealing with Manchester’s cold wind whenever he craves some nicotine.

The plan was to only have one and then go back upstairs, because they’re supposed to have lunch all together at The Marauder, the Lupins’ pub, but Tonks had been protesting, saying they already had plans with some friends. Ted didn’t seem too fussed about it, but James had noticed the look in Andromeda’s eye and he hadn’t liked it. You can never be sure, because she gives in very easily when her kid is involved, but it had felt like an argument was brewing.

He had thought it better to not be there for it. Tonks always tries to get him on their side, because James has always been a sort of ‘cool uncle’ figure for them and Regulus, even though he’s actually not related to them. It wouldn’t end well for James. He’s never been good under pressure, and Andromeda can be downright terrifying when she wants to.

Besides, there’s also the fact that he, Alphard and Frank are in the middle of a case right now. Stupid Lucius isn’t happy about the mess they made last time, even if they solved it in the end, so they’ve been trying to be on their best behaviour. Which, unfortunately, means they’re at his beck and call, making an effort to never talk back—James had almost slipped up thrice just that morning—and following protocol to a tee.

Orion has refused to give them anything with substance since they were transferred. He has refused to even acknowledge them during meetings, or when they run into each other in the halls of the station. And listen, James is definitely not complaining; that asshole hates his guts, and it’s very much mutual. But that doesn’t change that Orion is the superintendent and they kind of need his approval on almost everything they do.

Considering he probably just brought them to his station as punishment and to make their lives fucking miserable, they have no other option but to prove themselves by their own merits and climb up the ladder. That way, Orion will have no choice but to acknowledge them.

The issue is that they’ve never been very orthodox in their methods. And it had been fine, before, when most of their fuck ups were easily fixable and the good outweighed the bad. Now they’re being forced to work under harsh conditions. Having to answer to people like Orion Black and Lucius Malfoy.

Although, and if James is being honest, Lucius has been suspiciously merciful. Or, well, as merciful as someone like him can be.

James hates it, even if it works in their favour. He doesn’t want to feel like he owes anything to that man.

Lucius had allowed them to leave a bit reluctantly, after Alphard had lied about having a family emergency. The possibility of him calling them back to the station is quite high, however, and Andromeda never reacts well when lunch is interrupted by work matters.

He’s about to finish the cigarette, still debating if having a second one would be the smartest course of action, when he hears it.

“I swear, dude, he’s so fucking fit!”

James blinks, straightening up slightly before he takes a little peek from where he’s hiding under the stairs. The courtyard is open for everyone in the building, but the few times he’s come out for a smoke he’s barely seen anyone. Most people seem to prefer lounging on their own balconies, and apart from children playing around sometimes and the occasional old woman, it tends to be empty.

He catches sight of a couple of teenagers; they seem to be around Regulus’ age, but considering the leather jackets, the ripped jeans and all the piercings, they’re definitely not the kind of company Alphard would like for his nephew.

The one who has apparently made the comment is tall and lanky, his eyes a dark green and a ring on his lower lip. He has light brown hair, a few strands dyed a hideous shade of green, and his clothes seem to be at least a size or two bigger than him. James can’t help but squint his eyes a bit at him. He had been no saint when he was younger, and it’s not like he is now, despite being fucking cop, but James doesn’t like his vibes.

The other bloke isn’t much better. He’s shorter but tall nonetheless, and bigger in size, even though James has a feeling the other one would be a lot more ruthless in a fight. He sports a buzzcut and his eyes are a light shade of blue, cold and lifeless. Both his right eyebrow and the left side of his nose are pierced, and if James didn’t know any better, he’d swear there’s a tattoo peeking from the collar of his shirt.

James can’t help but scoff under his breath. He shakes his head lightly, taking another drag of his cigarette and deciding that he’ll go back inside as soon as he’s done. But as he’s about to step from under the stairs, something in the kids’ conversation catches his attention.

“Mate, I know you’re down to shag everyone and everything, but c’mon, you gotta be making this shit up,” the one with the buzzcut is saying, eyes narrowed. “There’s no way a bloke can be that hot. There’s just no way.”

“Just wait ‘til you see him,” the lanky guy retorts, and for some reason, he tilts his head back, eyes jumping from one balcony to another. “He’s prettier than most of the girls I’ve seen.”

“I don���t know if that’s a good thing, mate—”

“Trust me on this, okay?”

“Crouch, I wouldn’t trust you even if you paid me—”

“You’ll understand when you see him. You’re gonna be eating your fucking words, Mulciber.”

“Whatever.” Mulciber (?) rolls his eyes. “Why are you so sure he’ll show up, huh?”

“We’re neighbours,” Crouch responds, all his attention on the balconies surrounding the courtyard. “He moved here recently, and with his whole family, I think. There’s so many of them. I’ve only seen him and his brother. And his mum. I think it’s his mum, anyway, but she looked very young.”

“Teen mum, probably,” Mulciber mutters with a shrug. “Wouldn’t surprise me if they moved to this shithole.”

Crouch snorts. “That’s what I thought too. Anyways, Regulus—that’s his name—likes to sit on the balcony to read. And I’ve caught him people watching before, so—”

James nearly stops listening after that name is so casually dropped. There’s a soft ringing in his ears, and his hands keep clenching and unclenching, clenching and unclenching, as if they can’t decide if they want to curl into fists or not.

He hadn’t cared much about what they’re discussing. Just kids being kids, right? Being inappropriate about another kid who they fancy, or want to shag, or whatever, just like kids their age usually do. Now, though? Oh, now it feels personal. And definitely not as innocent as James had originally thought.

“Regulus?” Mulciber repeats, a bit incredulous, before he lets out a laugh. One of James’ eyes twitches. “That’s a weird fucking name, man.”

“Well, he is a bit weird,” Crouch concedes with a tilt of his head.

“You talk like you know him.”

“I mean, not really, but we did talk a little when I helped him move some boxes the day he moved in. And Mulciber, dude, he was wearing the tiniest shorts I’ve ever seen. I thought I was gonna pop a boner right then and there—”

“You’re such a fucking perv,” Mulciber sniggers, elbowing Crouch on his side, who retaliates without missing a beat, a chuckle slipping past his lips.

James is gritting his teeth so hard his jaw is beginning to hurt, the rest of his cigarette practically consumed by now and crushed between his pursed lips.

“As if you aren’t worse than me,” Crouch retorts.

“I don’t know, mate, I don’t stalk any of my neighbours—”

“You’re gonna be changing your tune so fucking quickly when you actually see him—”

“Yeah, you keep saying that, but I’m not so sure. First of all, I don’t usually like blokes like that. And second of all, you don’t discriminate much, and you tend to have the weirdest taste ever—”

“Okay, shut up, he’s there,” Crouch hisses excitedly, hitting Mulciber on the side of his arm. “He’s actually there, fuck—”

“Wait, seriously?” Mulciber’s eyes widen and then he’s blinking quickly as he attempts to follow Crouch’s line of sight. He even slides closer to him, his gaze searching like mad until it finally settles. His mouth parts in a silent exhale. “Fucking hell, you were right.”

James is also following suit, head snapping up and eyes already zeroing on the balcony he knows to belong to Alphard’s flat. Like Crouch said, Regulus is there, and he seems to be looking for something inside of one of the couple of boxes lying on the floor. He has this little furrow between his eyebrows, the one that indicates he’s concentrating hard and that James has always found to be incredibly adorable, and his tongue is peeking from between his teeth.

The issue is that apart from an oversized shirt that probably belongs to either Alphard or his brother, and his underwear, Regulus doesn’t seem to be wearing anything else.

“I told you,” Crouch exclaims, gaze following every single one of Regulus’ movements. “I fucking told you.”

“You really did,” Mulciber breathes out, a bit in awe. He whistles softly. “Shit, look at those legs.”

“I know,” Crouch sighs dreamily. “And the waist, dude.”

“Yeah. He’s a bit feminine, though, don’t you think?”

“Just how you like ‘em.”

“Piss off. Thought you weren’t gonna share.”

“And I’m not.”

“Well, mate, you’ll have to because there’s no way I’m not tapping that at least once—”

A gust of wind lifts Regulus’ shirt up for a few seconds, and the boy seems too busy fighting off a shiver to bother pulling it back down. There’s a flash of the flat of his stomach, the paleness of his skin littered with moles, the dip of his hips. And worst of all, they all catch sight of his underwear, which is a light purple and adorned with a little bow, and looks suspiciously like—

“Panties,” Crouch murmurs, and when James focuses on him once again, he’s disgusted to find him almost drooling, eyes dark. “Holy shit, dude, he’s wearing panties.”

“What the fuck,” Mulciber says, shaking his head like he can barely believe it. James isn’t even sure he’s breathing. “What the fuck.”

“Fuck me, that’s so hot—”

“Mate, I’ve never been so thankful for the wind in my fucking life—”

“I know right—”

“What kind of bloke just walks around his house wearing panties? Not that I’m complaining, but—”

“Oh, dude, I bet he’s a slag, he’s basically asking for it—”

James spits his cigarette out and then he’s pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek, a disbelieving laugh escaping his mouth. His eyes look up to the sky for a moment or two before he begins to make his way towards the two boys, a dangerous grin curving his lips.

It takes them a few seconds to notice his presence, too busy ogling Regulus like the fucking creeps they are, but when they do, they both take an instinctive step back. Mulciber mostly seems to be taken aback, but Crouch is wary, a frown twisting his features.

“Hello there,” James greets them, hands slipping into the pockets of his denim jacket. “Having fun?”

“Hey, mate,” Mulciber responds a bit hesitantly. “We were just—”

“What the hell do you want?” Crouch asks him almost at the same time.

James’ smile widens, and he raises his hands in mock surrender. “So hostile,” he chastises with a disappointed shake of his head.

“You came out of fucking nowhere,” Crouch huffs out. “And you don’t look familiar. I don’t think I’ve seen you around—”

“I mean, you seem quite busy perving on that kid, so I’m not surprised you didn't notice me.”

Crouch stiffens immediately, a scowl taking over his expression, and Mulciber gulps, glancing at his friend briefly before he takes another step back.

“Didn’t know looking was a crime,” Crouch snarks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s not,” James concedes, nodding slowly, almost considering. “But it’s fucking disgusting.”

Crouch scoffs loudly, and somehow, James’ grin spreads further at the noise. It also becomes considerably sharper.

“What’s it to you?” Crouch questions, moving forward, attempting to get in James’ space, intimidate him. He has the height, that’s for sure, even though James is convinced he has an inch or two on the boy. But knowing what he knows, the kind of training he’s undergone, and the fact that he’s currently armed, James kind of wants to laugh. “Huh? It’s none of your fucking business, dude. And it’s not like we’re harming anyone—”

“Maybe.” James shrugs with one shoulder. “It’s really pissing me off, though. And you don’t want to piss me off, kiddo.”

“The fuck?” Crouch mutters with an incredulous laugh. He tilts his head back just to glance at his friend briefly, who’s shooting daggers at him, before he focuses on James once again. “Who do you think you are? I don’t care about your feelings, dude. Did we offend you? What, are you two much of a pussy to deal with a couple of dirty comments?”

James arches an eyebrow, his fingers twitching at his sides with the need to reach for his gun. He isn’t going to. There’s no need to escalate the situation, and the kid is right, it’s not like they had been doing anything illegal, no matter how furious James is about the whole thing. Besides, he isn’t the type to use a weapon against someone who’s unarmed. That’s simply not the kind of person, or cop, James wants to be.

But god, does he want to.

“Listen, mate, I’m not looking for trouble, okay?” James tells him, doing his goddamn best to keep himself calm. “But I won’t tolerate you talking about him like that—”

“No one’s asking you to,” Crouch snaps, jaw clenched. “You weren’t even part of the conversation.”

“That’s not—”

“And besides, if he didn’t want anyone looking, then perhaps he shouldn’t be prancing around wearing fucking panties.”

James grits his teeth together so harshly he swears he hears something crack. “He’s at home. He’s allowed to wear whatever the hell he wants. That’s not an invitation for guys like you to stare like creeps—”

“He’s out on the balcony,” Crouch retorts, smirking at James, so annoyingly self-assured. “Everyone can see him. And he doesn’t seem very concerned about it.”

“He shouldn’t have to. He deserves to be comfortable around his flat without having to consider desperate lonely assholes who resort to stalking a kid to try and find some wanking material.”

Crouch blinks at him a couple of times, like he’s a little surprised by the sudden display of aggressiveness. Sure, James’s irritation had been noticeable from the beginning, which is probably the main reason why Crouch got immediately defensive.

But even James can admit that his anger is beginning to get away from him, and that’s never a good sign. It happens often, more than he’d like to admit, but he swears he usually has more self-restraint. Especially when teenagers are involved.

Crouch is just being this confrontational because his friend is with him. James knows the type a little too well; he’s encountered them a dozen times, arrested a handful too, and then let them go with just a light slap on the wrist. He always goes a bit soft on them, because they’re just kids being stupid, and he used to be as bad, if not worse, than them.

James is aware of all this, just like he’s aware of the fact that he’s overreacting, and he should’ve just given them a warning and gone back inside. He never meant to get derailed like this. Honestly, he’s taking so long he’s a bit surprised Andromeda or Sirius haven’t come out to get him.

But his brain seems very against cooperating. James can feel whatever little rationality he possesses slipping through his fingers, and truth be told, he isn’t even actually trying to grab it.

“You’re way too bothered about this,” Crouch unnecessarily points out after a beat, looking James up and down, searching for something.

James exhales loudly through his nose. “Just because you clearly lack some common decency—”

“Nah, don’t try to give me that shit,” Crouch interrupts him, waving his hand around lazily. “Who’s Reg to you? Because you definitely know him.”

James has to bite his tongue to stop himself from barking at Crouch for daring to use a nickname for Regulus when they barely know each other. Crouch merely helped him with some boxes, and he clearly had ulterior motives, anyway. If James has anything to say in the matter—and he fucking does—that’s as far as their interactions will go.

“You his uncle or something?” Crouch goes on, unrelenting. “Step-dad? Family friend?”

He rolls his eyes, and is about to tell Crouch to fucking quit it, because James has no intentions of entertaining this, or satisfy his curiosity, when Crouch’s mouth twists into something more sinister, a dangerous glint shining in his gaze.

“Or,” Crouch continues, voice going low, “maybe you also wanna shag him.”

James’ breath stutters in his chest, eyes widening in pure, unfiltered shock, his mind refusing to even consider processing the sentence that just left Crouch’s mouth. Part of James just wants to laugh until tears are running down his face, while another feels ill enough he worries he might be about to be sick.

He doesn’t even get a chance to decide on a proper reaction before Crouch presses on, acting like he’s oh so clever but clearly not enough to know when to quit it.

The kid must lack a sense of preservation. There’s no other explanation.

“Is that it?” Crouch shakes his head, tutting at James. “Oh, that’s hilarious. And fucking vile. You gotta be, at least, in your mid-thirties. I bet you only caught us looking because you were doing the same. Is that what does it for you? Pretty, seventeen year old boys wearing panties? Not like I can blame you. He’s definitely a sight for sore eyes. I don’t even wanna imagine how many times you’ve gotten off to—”

Crouch never manages to finish his awful spiel, because James is pulling out his gun, seeing fucking red, almost shaking with the fury coursing through his veins. His blood is boiling while he pushes the barrel of the gun into Crouch’s forehead, taking sick satisfaction in the way the boy pales, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out of it.

Mulciber lets out what can only be a squeal, and when James lays eyes on him, the boy takes a couple of steps back, readying himself to turn away and run. James only needs to arch an eyebrow at him and shift his wrist a little, enough for the gun to be pointed at him instead, to make him freeze.

He isn’t one to enjoy a power trip, not under these circumstances, when he's basically threatening a couple of teens, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t delight in the fear in their eyes. In watching all that bravado vanish from Crouch’s expression, from his pose.

“Not so brave now, are you?” James asks Crouch with a quirk of his mouth. The boy just stares at him in silence, lips pursed and shoulders stiff. “C’mon, up against the wall, both of you.”

They both hesitate; Mulciber as if he’s struggling to get his limbs to cooperate, and Crouch in a last attempt at defiance.

James lets out a mirthless chuckle, his head giving a disappointed shake.

“I don’t like repeating myself,” he hisses, tone hard and cold. “I said up against the wall. Now.”

It still takes them a couple more seconds, but the moment James clicks his tongue, his hold tightening around the gun, both boys finally move, rushing to one of the walls in the courtyard. James can tell they’ve been stopped by the police before, with the way they stand facing the wall and immediately lift their hands and put them flat against the cold stone.

They probably have never been this close to a gun, though, if Mulciber’s trembling and the tension hanging off Crouch’s soldiers is anything to go by.

“Listen, man we—we didn’t mean to—” Mulciber starts, tripping all over his words. He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, and James wishes he could feel any pity for him.

“Did I say you could speak?” James cuts him off, leaning forward until he’s sure Mulciber can feel the heat of his body, the barrel of the gun grazing the back of his head. “Shut your fucking mouth before you make this worse for yourself.”

Mulciber nods fast and urgent, pressing his lips tight together and shutting his eyes briefly.

“This time, I’m gonna talk and you’re gonna listen,” James goes on, shifting his attention to Crouch, who’s openly glaring at the wall in front of him. When James moves the gun and presses it against the boy’s nape, Crouch inhales a bit shakily. “I don’t want to see you around Regulus ever again. In fact, don’t even look in his general direction. For all intents and purposes, he doesn’t exist to you, okay?”

“You’re a fucking freak,” Crouch spits out through gritted teeth. “What would Reg think if—”

“You won’t finish that sentence if you know what’s good for you, Crouch,” James cuts him off swiftly, his tone eerily calm. “And while we’re on the topic, quit it with the nickname, will ya? It’s not like you’re ever gonna be close enough with Regulus to be allowed to use it, anyway.”

“I was right, you really wanna fuck him,” Crouch retorts in a snarl, turning his head a little, just so his green eyes can bore into James’ brown ones. “How aren’t you ashamed of yourself? I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror if I were you. You’re the one who shouldn’t be around him—”

James digs the gun into Crouch’s skin to the point he’s convinced it must sting, but the boy doesn’t so much as flinch. Still, it has the desired effect, and Crouch closes his mouth, his words dying in his throat.

“I’m a very reasonable man, Crouch, but you’re testing my bloody limits,” James tells him, using the weapon to tilt the boy’s head forward, until his forehead is pressed uncomfortably into the wall. “Take Regulus’ name out of your goddamn mouth or I promise I’ll put a bullet in your skull.”

Mulciber lets out a choked off noise, but James doesn’t even bother glancing at him. His eyes are fixed on Crouch, who manages a small grin that looks more like a sneer than anything else.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Crouch mutters. James doesn’t understand how he can still talk back when he literally has a gun to his head, and he can’t help but admire the boy slightly. You gotta be very bold. Or very stupid.

James chuckles lowly, fingers caressing the weapon, playing with the idea of cocking the gun just so Crouch can hear it. Actually feel the threat. “Fucking try me.”

“Barty, please—” Mulciber whispers shakily, voice sounding suspiciously wet.

James is opening his mouth, so furious he isn’t sure of what will come out of it this time, when someone else interrupts him.

“What the fuck!? James?” Regulus yells from somewhere to his right, and James nearly drops the gun.

He immediately steps away from the boys, his head whipping around in search of the owner of the voice. James’ eyes find Regulus already making his way down the stairs of the courtyard, and something inside seems to settle at the sight. He can hear Crouch and Mulciber murmuring to each other before they run away, taking advantage of James’ distraction, and he isn’t even annoyed about it. He doesn’t care, really. Not anymore.

Regulus is still clad in just the oversized shirt and those bloody panties, but he isn’t flashing anyone this time, which James—and his sanity—deeply appreciates. Regulus had also been smart enough to put on a pair of slippers before going outside. It wouldn’t be the first time Regulus decided to step into the courtyard barefooted and ended up hurting himself.

James rushes to his side, but Regulus takes a step back as soon as he reaches him, the frown twisting his features becoming more pronounced.

“Put the gun away,” Regulus snaps before James can ask. He blinks at the boy, and then down at the weapon, which is still between his fingers. He listens immediately, sticking it inside the waistband of his jeans and then raising both hands, showing Regulus his naked palms.

The boy appears to relax slightly, but the furrow between his eyebrows doesn’t disappear.

“Regulus, it’s too cold for you to be out like this. C’mon, let’s go back inside, and—” James begins, dropping his arms and extending one towards Regulus, who curls a little into himself to avoid the touch.

James swears he feels a pang in his chest at the action.

“What the fuck was that about?” Regulus cuts in, sharp and confused and bordering on upset. James has to make an active effort not to wince.

“Reggie—”

“No, stop it. None of that. I want you to explain.”

James slips a hand under his glasses to rub at his eyes, a soft sight making it past his lips. “It was—nothing, Reg, you don’t have to—”

“Nothing?” Regulus repeats with a scoff, disbelieving. “Really? Because it didn’t look like nothing. You were threatening two guys with your bloody gun in the middle of the courtyard, for fuck’s sake—”

“It was just—just a tiny misunderstanding,” James attempts to excuse himself, hating how high-pitched he sounds. He’s usually decent at lying; mostly, because his job requires him to do it often. “We were talking, and then, then the conversation got a bit out of hand—”

Regulus snorts, but the noise lacks amusement. “Oh, it got out of hand alright. That was my neighbour you were about to shoot—”

“Please, you know I wouldn’t have,” James sighs, rolling his eyes, and he means it. In a perfect world, he'd be able to shoot assholes with no consequences. Unfortunately, this isn’t a perfect world, and James is a bit too aware of what lines can never be crossed.

“I’m not so sure,” Regulus murmurs, the beginning of a pout pulling at his lips. “What has Barty even done to you?”

James’ face immediately twists into a scowl, both at the reminder of his whole argument with Crouch and at the casual manner in which Regulus says his name. From what James knows, Regulus and Crouch have only interacted one time, and it wasn’t anything purposeful, or memorable. He doesn’t like the familiarity in Regulus’ voice, or the use of a first name. Crouch isn’t the kind of friend James wants for Regulus.

“Barty,” James repeats, chewing the word, its taste unbearably sour. “Didn’t know you were so close,” he mutters a bit darkly.

“We’re not,” Regulus retorts without missing a beat, squinting his eyes at James.

“Well, it bloody seems like it—”

“James,” Regulus snaps, making him pause. “Answer the question.”

He blinks down at the boy a couple of times, but then he ends up letting out a quiet huff, scratching at the back of his head as he briefly averts his eyes.

It’s a bit ridiculous, the power this kid has over James. He can’t help but be embarrassed, sometimes, because Regulus shouldn’t be allowed to speak to him like this, to demand answers like he’s owed something, like James is at his fucking beck and call.

He is, though. And James is painfully aware that he’s the main responsible for that spoiled attitude of Regulus. He encourages it, even. Because no matter how much he chastises himself for being so lenient, so soft when it comes to the other boy. James can’t stop. He’d give Regulus the world if he asked.

“Crouch was being a fucking creep, okay?” James tells him, still avoiding the boy’s gaze. “Apparently he’s been stalking you, trying to get a peek. He even brought his friend with him.”

“What?”

“Yeah. They only came to the courtyard because they were hoping to catch you out on the balcony at some point.”

There’s a moment of silence, and when James finally chances a glance at Regulus, he finds him wrinkling his nose.

“What a weirdo,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t appear to be half as upset as James believes he should be. “It’s not like there’s much to see, anyway—”

“You’re basically half-naked,” James deadpans, staring pointedly at Regulus’ pale legs before his eyes settle on the boy’s face once more. “Not to mention, you’re wearing—”

James closes his mouth so fast his teeth click hard enough to make him see stars momentarily. Regulus tilts his head at him, mostly confused but also slightly wary, and James’ stomach turns uncomfortably.

“I’m wearing what?” Regulus questions, before he takes a step closer to James.

“It’s—it doesn’t matter.” James shakes his head.

“It clearly does, if it got you all worked up like that, to the point you pulled out your fucking gun,” Regulus presses, taking another step. And then another. And another. James has to force himself to stay put, to stop his face from doing anything weird, to keep his voice level.

“It doesn’t matter,” James reiterates, so fucking relieved at how calm he sounds. “Just make sure you keep your distance from those two. It’s clear they’re only interested in you for one reason, and that’s not the kind of company you wanna keep.”

“And how would you know that?”

“I just do.”

“Less than a week ago you were encouraging me to meet more people my age and make friends—”

“Not them,” James hisses, a muscle spasming on the side of his jaw. “Not them, Regulus.”

The boy raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s your choice.”

“I’m not claiming it is,” James sighs, unable to hide the exasperation in his voice. He never forgets the fact that Regulus is only seventeen, petty and stubborn and childish, but moments like these are quite the reminder. “I’m simply trying to look out for you, Reggie.”

“Of course,” Regulus scoffs, looking offended, and James can barely suppress the urge to throw his hands up in the air. What did he say now? “Because you always know better, right, James?”

“Um,” he begins, a little unsure, his palm rubbing at his stubble distractedly. “Kinda, yeah?”

Regulus’ mouth twitches until it curls into a snarl, and James curses himself inside his head, already itching to take it back, to fix it before Regulus can get properly angry at him.

“Not like there’s anything wrong with that!” he rushes to clarify, before Regulus even has the chance to open his mouth. “It’s just—well, natural, innit? It’s not because you’re stupid, Reggie, quite the opposite, really, and you know I trust you enough to know that you’ll make the right decisions—”

“But?” Regulus prompts, impatient, openly glaring at James. There’s nothing intimidating about the boy, and yet, James does feel the odd urge to cower under his gaze.

“But,” James goes on, doing his best to keep his tone soft and gentle, “I’m older than you,” he explains, not surprised in the slightest when Regulus rolls his eyes so hard his head tilts back. It doesn’t deter James. “I’m more experienced. That’s just life, love. Nothing wrong with that, and it doesn’t mean that you don’t know what you’re doing. You’re just a kid—”

“I’m not a fucking kid,” Regulus snaps, and it’s harsh, bordering on vicious, and James is so taken aback it takes him a handful of seconds to manage a reply.

“You are,” James argues, careful but firm, wrinkles all over his forehead. “You are a kid, Regulus.”

The boy makes a derisive sound. “Only when it suits you.”

James furrows his eyebrows slightly even though his lips make an aborted attempt at curving into a small smile. He tries to swallow, but a knot seems to have settled at the back of his throat, uncomfortable and impossible to get rid of.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks Regulus, and he goes for lighthearted, almost teasing, he really does. James doesn’t think he quite manages it, however. Mostly, because he’s a bit terrified of the response.

“You tell me,” Regulus murmurs, shrugging lazily. “Were you looking?”

“Looking? At what?”

“You said Barty and his friend were basically perving on me. Were you, too?”

A wave of nausea assaults James’ entire body, and for a moment, he’s sure he’s about to start gagging. He shakes his head furiously, and a few times at that, just to make sure to get his point across, despite Regulus’ expression never changing.

God, James is dying to put some distance between them, but he doesn’t—he worries about Regulus misinterpreting it—

“No,” he states slowly, his tone not leaving any room for argument. “No. Fuck, Reggie, you know I would never. You’re—shit, you’re a child and I’m not—I wouldn’t—I don’t see you like that—”

“You sure?” Regulus crosses his arms over his chest, unimpressed by James’ distress. “Because you seemed very bothered about my outfit choice.”

“Not like that,” James groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just—they were being creeps, and I don’t like people seeing you like—like this and making such inappropriate comments, but it’s not—it was never about me, or how I feel. I don’t care about what you wear—”

“You don’t care that I’m wearing these?” Regulus interrupts him softly, and a second later he’s lifting his shirt, showing off the goddamn panties and part of his belly in the process.

A wave of unbearable heat begins to climb up James’ neck, and he doesn’t allow himself more than a brief peek—mostly due to his lack of preparation—before one of his arms is shooting out, fingers wrapping tightly around Regulus’ wrist.

“Regulus,” James whisper-yells, glancing around in mild panic as he moves impossibly closer to the younger boy, attempting to cover his body with his own as best as he can. “What the actual fuck are you doing, anyone can see—”

“Come on, no one’s outside, it’s just us—” Regulus protests with a roll of his eyes, but when James digs his fingers in just the slightest bit harder and tugs insistently, he doesn’t resist, allowing his shirt to be pulled back down.

“Yeah, I bet you thought that too when you were on the balcony,” James grumbles, not letting go of the younger boy even with the panties finally out of sight. He knows better than to trust Regulus when he gets like this.

"You're being so dramatic," Regulus says with a tilt of his head, hands still playing with the hem of his shirt. "So what if they looked? It's not illegal."

"It should be," James grunts, his hold on Regulus' wrist never faltering.

"Okay, but it isn't," Regulus insists. "They didn't try anything, they didn't say anything to me, they didn't—"

"You weren't there, Reg." James shakes his head, trying to get rid of the whole encounter, vanish every single one of Crouch's disgusting words, all of his false accusations. "You don't—it was fucking awful. Made me sick to my fucking stomach."

"Jamie," Regulus mutters softly, delicately, like he's speaking to a spooked animal. James should hate it, should shut it down immediately, because he's the one that's supposed to do the comforting. Always the protector, looking after his Reggie. "It's like you say. They're just kids. Kids being kids."

"Don't excuse them—"

"I'm not! I'm not. You just seem very upset, and I don't like that. I'm fine, yeah? I don't care about what they said. It doesn't matter—"

"But it does!" James explodes, raising his voice and hating himself a little for it. He runs his free hand through his hair, messing it all up, pulling at the roots. "It fucking does. No one should fucking dare to even think that kind of shit about you. You're—you're so good, Reggie, so very lovely, and I don't—I refuse to let you go through that. I'm not gonna let anyone make you feel like you're some—some kind of object—"

"James—"

"You're too young, you don't get it just yet, but it's not—I won't fucking stand for it, Reggie. It may be innocent now, or harmless, but it won't always be. And you deserve only the very best, okay? I'll make sure those assholes stay far, far away from you even if it's the last thing I do."

Regulus' eyes widen as he stares up at James, so bright they look like liquid silver.

"Is that why you seemed so angry?" Regulus questions, sounding a bit out of breath for some reason. "Why you pulled out your gun? For me?"

"Not my proudest moment," James sighs. He'd probably do it again, but that doesn't mean he isn't aware it's wrong. James doesn't doubt that Lucius would take his gun away if he ever found out. "But yes, of course it was for you. I didn't mean to lose my cool like that, I just wanted to—to scare them off so they'd leave you alone, but they—" James pauses to swallow, his mouth dry and his tongue tasting something bitter. "Crouch is fucking vile, Reggie. Please, stay away from him."

"Okay," Regulus agrees with astounding ease. James is convinced he's heard wrong at first, because after all the fight he's put up, he can't quite believe he's suddenly giving in. "You really did it for me?"

James raises both eyebrows. "Yes, Reg. There's no one else I'd risk my badge for."

Regulus giggles, giddy and slightly pink in the face, and James is helpless to the grin that takes over his expression. He still hasn't let go of Regulus' wrist, but his hold loosens considerably, his thumb caressing the skin slowly.

"Would you have shoot them, too?" the boy wonders, batting his lashes. "If they hadn't stopped?"

Yes.

The response comes unbridled, nearly tumbling out of James' mouth against his will. It feels quite overwhelming, the knowledge that he'd be willing to go that far for Regulus, turn away from his morals and everything he believes in without a second of hesitation.

It's a bit of a struggle, keeping it from slipping past his lips and swallowing it back down before it gets the chance to cause some damage.

"Obviously not," he lies with a teasing roll of his eyes. "That'd be fucking insane."

Regulus pouts at that answer, and James can only chuckle fondly, giving his wrist a light squeeze before he finally lets go.

"But I'll always be there to protect you, Reggie," he goes on with a smile, reaching out to twirl one of the boy's curls between his fingers. "I won't let anything bad happen to you."

"I know," Regulus sighs, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Good. Now let's get you back inside, yeah? It's freezing, and you're gonna catch a cold at this rate, dressed like that."

"Can we wait five more minutes? Andy and uncle Alphard were still arguing when I went to look for you."

James looks up at the sky and groans dramatically, dragging a tiny laugh out of Regulus. He ends up nodding a second later, because he really doesn't want to get involved in whatever it is that's going on inside that flat. He just wants to get some lunch. After that altercation with Crouch and Mulciber, and then Regulus' interruption, James is fucking starving. Pub food will surely fix this mess of a morning. Especially if said pub food is made by Hope Lupin.

"Yeah, sure, I'd rather avoid it, if possible," James mutters. As soon as the sentence is out of his mouth, a shiver rattles Regulus' entire frame, both his hands coming up to rub distractedly as his upper arms. James' expression twists in a frown. "Reggie, you can't—wait, lemme just—"

He shrugs his denim jacket off and rushes to wrap it around Regulus' shoulders, who flinches in surprise before he relaxes once again. It seems to take him a second, but then he's slipping his arms through the sleeves, the garment way too big on him. Regulus is basically swimming in it, and James has to swallow down a laugh while he adjusts the jacket as best as he can.

"But what about you?" Regulus questions, concern seeping into his words as he watches James fuss over him.

James shakes his head with half a smile, tugging the jacket as low as it'll go. He doesn't button it up, but he makes sure to close it slightly, so Regulus is as covered as possible.

"I'm fine," James reassures him, even with goosebumps breaking all over his now exposed arms. "You're the one who's barely wearing anything. Besides, if you get ill your uncle will kill me."

"Why would he?" Regulus grumbles, burrowing into the jacket. He gives the collar a little sniff, and James is sure he intended to be discreet, but he notices it anyway. It makes his smile widen slightly. "It'd be my fault."

"Maybe. But I can't just stand by and watch. You're shaking, love—"

"Only a little!"

"Please," James snorts, hands grazing the hem of the jacket before they slide lower, fingers settling on the boy's thighs, feeling the goosebumps all over Regulus' skin. "If you're gonna lie, at least do it well. I know you're freezing cold, Reggie, I can feel it."

A small, high-pitched noise escapes Regulus' lips, and his face seems to become a bit redder. James assumes the cold must be really getting to him, so with an amused huff, he begins to stroke up and down Regulus' thighs, hoping to help the boy warm up slightly.

Regulus makes another sound, and then he's pressing even closer to James, clutching at his chest and resting his forehead against James' sternum. Another shiver wracks his small body, and James grips at his thighs, fondling them a bit more harshly. He shushes Regulus when the boy whimpers softly, and James lowers his head enough to drop a kiss on top of his curls.

"Don't worry, love, we'll be back inside soon," James reassures him quietly, hands stroking and squeezing without pause. His fingers slip under the jacket and under the shirt, trying to reach as much skin as possible. "Honestly, only you'd think that coming outside in just a top and your underwear is a good idea. I hope you've learnt your lesson."

"You sound like—like uncle Alphard," Regulus retorts, stuttering all over his words and filling James with fondness. "He's always scolding me about my outfit choices."

"I'm inclined to agree with him this time."

"Well, don't. You're supposed to—to be on my side. Always, Jamie."

James exhales loudly through his nose, grinning, helplessly endeared.

"You make it a bit difficult sometimes, love," he says to the top of Regulus' head. "I mean, look at you, you can't stop shivering—"

"It's not because of the cold," Regulus murmurs. It comes out too low and slightly muffled; James doubts he would've heard it if it weren't for how close they're standing.

"No?" James asks, a teasing edge to his voice.

Regulus shakes his head a couple of times, and then he's looking up, his eyes a little glazed as he glances at James. He's quite red, and his breathing appears to be slightly uneven, panting through parted lips.

"You're—you're touching me," Regulus explains, and there's something about how he says it that makes James tense up immediately, stomach twisting. There's nothing wrong with the word in itself, but the way Regulus pronounces it, so full of implications… Well, it sounds dirty. "It feels very nice, Jamie."

"So? I touch you all the time," James points out, his tone carefully neutral. He hasn't pulled away just yet, but his hands have stopped all movement.

"Not like this," Regulus whispers, and James swallows with some difficulty.

"Regulus—" he starts, a little strained.

"Is it because of the panties? You like 'em that much?"

James jumps away from him as if burned, and without giving the boy a single second to react, he begins to make his way towards the stairs, desperate to put some distance between them, to find some witnesses, anything to stop whatever it is that's wrong with his fucking brain.

He thinks he hears Regulus calling after him, but James barely acknowledges it, curling into himself as he climbs the steps two at a time.

"Sorry, Reg, this wind is killing me, I can't do it, I'm going back inside!" he announces without even bothering to turn around and look at the boy, his voice close to breaking at the end. "Besides, if we don't leave soon, the pub is gonna be rammed!"

James can't tell if Regulus says anything in response, too busy trying not to trip in his haste to return to the flat. His face feels like it's on fucking fire, and his hands won't stop trembling where they're resting at his sides.

When he finally opens the door and a screaming match between Alphard, Andromeda and Sirius welcomes him, James can only let out a relieved sigh. He isn't even annoyed when Sirius notices him and decides to include him in whatever stupid fight they're in the middle of.

By the time Regulus slips inside, eerily silent, the argument is over, and everyone is getting ready to go to lunch. Andromeda takes one look at him and rushes him to get dressed, threatening to leave without him if he isn't ready in the next fifteen minutes.

James can feel Regulus' eyes on him the whole time. While the boy walks towards his room to get ready, on their way to the pub, during the meal, when Alphard stands up to take a call from, presumably, Lucius. Even while James sends a quick text to Frank, telling him to meet them at the station, and Sirius leans closer to his brother to make a very inappropriate comment about Remus, who's pouring a pint behind the bar.

He doesn't look back a single time.

[acapelladitty]

can you write something homelander being all submissive and pleading with butcher?

with a cherry on top

Pairing: Billy Butcher/Homelander

Summary: Billy Butcher wants something and Homelander is going to give it to him.

(tw: humiliation, dom/sub dynamics, boot kink, mild painplay, begging, handjob, mild cbt, swearing, smut)

Fic Masterlist

Link To AO3

The game, or whatever the fucked up dynamic that had bloomed and constantly reared its head to play out between them was called, had captured both men once again and Butcher hated how trapped his stiff cock felt against his jeans as he glared down at the blonde kneeling submissively between his feet.

"Way I see it, you have two choices here, cunt. You can either beg nicely for ol' Billy to sort you out right good, or you can keep that hole of yours all locked up and I think I'll just shoot off in your face and scamper. What'd ya think?"

His face flush with predatory arousal, every feature narrowed and sharp with the exception of his mouth as it hung slack with unchecked need, Homelander seemed incapable of verbalising any decision on his part as his words struggled to escape a rapidly-swallowing throat.

"I said," Butcher continued, lifting his heavy boot from the ground and placing the thick tread atop the unmistakable tent of Homelander's groin, "I wanna hear it. Don't tell me some cunt's got your tongue now. Can't shut you the fuck up most of the time."

The pressure of Butcher's leather boot pressing down on his neglected cock was almost too much for Homelander and his spine curled forward as he barely restrained the urge to buck his hips into the rough touch like a desperate whore.

"I could kill you."

His voice coming out an octave higher than he would have liked, Homelander licked his tongue sharply across his chapped lips. Inhaling, the woody scent of fresh sweat and cheap colonge made his head spin - the masculine smell of Butcher only tainted by the nasty aroma of some medicated balm that he had slathered some part of himself in.

Butcher, in fair response to the death threat, only pushed his boot down harder at the hissed words and Homelander couldn't hold back the stuttering growl which slipped free of his lips as his brow fell into an open scowl, anger and arousal warring for dominance of his handsome features.

"Sorry, what? Couldn't hear ya over the sound of you moaning like a cheap slag who puts out her hole for a packet of fags and some bacardi breezers."

Not really sure what those were, Homelander's expression flicked with confusion for a moment before falling into undisguised arousal once more as Butcher dropped to his haunches before him and replaced the stiff tread of his boot with his palm - his fingers cupping at Homelander's cock with so much pressure that it would have made a lesser man scream.

"Beg." Butcher repeated, his thick brows also furrowed into a scowl that brooked no argument as he savagely squeezed at Homelander's cock, knowing that the supe could take whatever he dished out.

Homelander, gasping and shuddering as his spine curled further forward with the discomfort, did exactly as told while a hot flush of shame painted his neck a lovely pink colour.

"Please."

Feigning ignorance, Butcher used his free hand to cup at his ear. "What was that?"

"William, please."

Using the familiar name, one so often dripping his absolute contempt for the arrogant fuck, Homelander winced at the total lack of any malice as he listened to his own whining plead.

"Please what? Don't tell me all that v running through your veins has made you stupid as all fuck. Let's hear it for daddy, sweetheart."

"Please, touch me." Homelander growled, the humiliation only adding to the painful arousal of his cock as his length twitched in Butcher's merciless hand. "Pull my cock out and, fuck, touch me. Please."

Surprisingly, Butcher complied and Homelander groaned as his cock was quickly snatched free of his suit and exposed to the cool air. Bearing only the slightest of reddened marks from where Butcher had dug his fingers in, his cock stood proudly as it jutted free of the healthy blonde pubes which ringed its base.

"Harder than an elephants tusk, eh? Well, ain't that a shame."

"William." Snapping the name like a slur, the slightest hint of amber flexed in the steely blue depths of Homelander's eyes as he once more was the subject of Butcher's humiliation. "If you don't-"

Forcing two of his fingers into Homelander's mouth, the action forcing Homelander to cough and flex his tongue against the thick invaders as his words were cut short, Butcher pressed his digits down until Honelander had relaxed past his initial panic.

"Shut the fuck up, pretty boy."

With a cheshire grin, Butcher indulged himself. His fingers keeping their iron grip against Homelander's jaw and tongue, his other hand circled around the base of Homelander's cock - fingers squeezing together roughly as he rubbed his dry hand along the length. It wasn't supposed to be bliss, his harshness and lack of lube making the friction almost painful, but Homelander writhed in place as his hips jerked of their own accord to push himself harder into Butcher's fist.

"That's right, fuck yourself daft, lad. It's all you'll be getting from me."

Butcher hissed the words, his head feeling light from just the sheer amount of power which thrunned through his veins as he held this dangerous creature in the palm of his hand. Literally. His own cock felt painfully trapped, every slight shift of his body making his length brush against the inside of his jeans like a lovers tease.

Oh, fuck this.

"I'm going to pull my fingers free of your mouth." Butcher explained, loosening his grip of Homelander's cock enough to allow the other man to pick up the pace slightly - a few strands of his blonde hair having fallen across his damp forehead. "And then I'm gonna replace them with something much bigger and almost as clean. If I catch even a brush of those teeth then I'll rip your cock off with my bare hands and use it to hang my bathroom towels. You hear me?"

Eyes glazed and dulled, his willful submission sending him to a docile place which made him a much more agreeable cunt than anything Butcher could hope for, Homelander nodded around his fingers and whined as Butcher's hand left his cock.

Butcher's hands were as steady as a surgeons as he stood to unzip his fly and a fresh smirk settled on his chapped hips as he set about giving the maniac who knelt at his knees something to really chew on.

[prettynice8]

Happy Birthday Bitch

Min Yoongi or Suga or Agust D x male reader, haters to lovers

The birthday boy

Stuff: Swearing, bottom reader, top Suga, sub reader, dom Suga, homophobic Suga but it's ok it's internalized, kissing but like aggressive, hate fucking, doggystyle, male reader, dick sucking (Suga receiving), creampie, kinda gay ngl, non-idol au, college au.

Word Count: 1,509

Summary: You and Min really hate each other. Anyway, he is having a birthday party and your friend invited you. Then the birthday boy demands his present from you or something.

Notes: sorry I haven't posted anything in a while, I just didn't really want to. Also fun fact, Suga used to be my least favorite member, I just thought that he was kind of boring compared to the other ones, but then I saw him rap in the Butter music video and had an epiphany of biblical proportion. Oh and Happy Birthday Suga.

It is moments like these that make you really hate your friends. Not only are they attending HIS party, but those butt sluts also invited you to come along. Those bitches were fully aware of your utter disdain for that fucking shit eating brainless fucking fucker, and yet they asked if you wanted to go. You said yes nonetheless but that is not the point.

You could never say no to a fun party, and the prospect of getting railed tonight was admittedly very pleasant sounding. You were aware that even though you hated the guy, he was very popular for some reason that you could never grasp.

He was just another dude who had nearly no personality or substance. A dumb look on his face that makes all the stupid bitches fawn over for some reason. Like he is not even that hot, sure he has an ab or two but that is it.

These thoughts kept swimming through your mind as you opened the door to the party that you could hear from miles away. As you walked in the smell of alcohol and the sight of random flashing lights was almost enough for you to pass out, the parties should be, which is almost even more angering that it came from HIM.

You were a little late because you only decided a few minutes ago that you were actually going. You made your way to the previously mentioned asshole friends that were invited to this place, but you were stopped by the man of the hour himself, Min Yoongi.

"I thought I had a no fags allowed rule." Yoongi stated, laughing at his own lazy "joke" if you can even call it that. The sudden appearance makes you jump, causing him to laugh more.

"Ew why are you talking to me!" You remarked disgustingly. "Don't you have other people to bother?"

"None as fun as you." He said, the shit eating smirk already on his face.

"Get a life." You snap at him, growing angrier every second you are in his presence. Almost walking away until he walks right in front of you, stopping your escape.

"Why are you even here?" He asked, arms crossed over his chest.

"You invited the whole school you stupid bitch." You responded aggressively, wanting this fucker gone.

"Fucking cock sucker." He exclaimed, laughing once again.

"Was that supposed to be an insult because you're just stating the obvious." You responded matter-of-factly, causing his laugh to stop and his face to solidify. "Or are you trying to start something?" You then winked at him, enjoying the uncomfortable silence he is giving you.

"Do you ever shut the fuck up?" He questioned back, his frustration growing as he stared daggers at you.

"Are you ever enjoyable to be around?" You asked, already knowing the answer being no. You try to walk away again but he grabs my arm and whispers in your ear.

"Why don't I make you." He started calmly. His voice actually sounded hot? Whatever it was, it did something to you. Confusion stirs inside of you as your mind races, though the inner turmoil is cut short when you feel something poking into your ass, already aware of what it is.

You let out a quick gasp, Min Yoongi, the man who hates you the most out of anyone you have ever known, is it hard for you? and you are getting turned by it? This must be a dream. Pinch me now.

"I'm going to do way worse." Yoongi stated. Wait, did he hear you, did you let that slip. What the fuck is happening. These thoughts spread through your mind, all of the noises and people all around you die down, Yoongi being the only thing on your mind.

"Let's go somewhere more... private." He ordered before taking your arm and leading you to his room

He brings you to his room, locks the door, and slams you into it, desperately kissing you.

His lips feel surprisingly good with your own, soft yet solid enough to leave quite the impact. You kiss him back just as desperately, your hands already going to take his shirt off, which he helps you with. Once it is off his lips crash right back on to yours where they belong.

He starts to become even more needy, diving his tongue into your mouth and exploring every part he can. His hands take your ass in vice grip as yours explore his broad and muscly torso, following each tone of his body.

"I still hate you." He said between tongue entanglements.

"Ditto." You said before diving right back in, but his hand stops you.

You let out muffled wails of confusion and frustration until he finally justifies himself. "I think your mouth can be used for more important things." was the last he said before bringing you to your knees.

Being an experienced little diva, you know exactly what to do. You strip his pants and boxers off in a single swipe. His throbbing member was already begging for your attention, you hated the guy but had to admit that he was packing some serious artillery.

Your hands begin to work on his shaft, pumping it slowly up and down while giving the tip light kisses, but that wasn't enough for him. So he shoves your head straight down onto his massive cock.

You take him so easily, his cock already all the way in. You begin moving your head up and down his length, the tip hitting your throat every time.

"God you're fucking good! I guess you had to be at something." He groaned, you respond by nipping him a little bit, which he responds with by fully fucking your throat.

He grabs your hair tightly and goes to mother fucking town. Thrusting his hips into your mouth, almost making you cum just from this, the thought of this monster going in your ass scares you so much it is sexual.

He finally starts emptying his balls into your throat, taking you off his dick. He doesn't even have to ask you to swallow before you have already done so.

"Fucking whore." He said as he picked you up and threw you onto the bed. Wasting no time with taking off your clothes, literally ripping your shirt in half.

"Hey!" You yell.

"You won't be going anywhere for a while, so shut the fuck up and get on your hands and knees." He demanded unapologetically.

You do exactly as he says, wanting to get fucked by his massive cock so badly it almost hurts.

He wastes no time with foreplay, only giving you one quick kiss which was surprisingly sweet, a spank, and he was off. He plunged is dick into you, bottoming out in one quick thrust.

Tears spilled from your eyes, but you can think about that right now when he is already going full force, fucking your ass like a semi-truck, that actually would be gentler.

He has a death grip on your hips that will absolutely bruise, he also keeps spanking your ass repeatedly leaving it bright red, his teeth also leaving love bites all over your neck, but you cannot thing about any of that when he is pounding into so hard, leaving all other sensations feel like child's play.

You would say that Yoongi is only chasing his own pleasure but then he starts pumping your painfully hard dick. He also occasionally plays with your sensitive nipples, how kind.

The sounds of Yoongi's groans and skin hitting skin is nothing compared to the sound of your moans filling the room and probably the house itself, oh yeah there was a party going on.

The thing on your mind is Yoongi's hand pulling your hair, the other gripping your ass, his lips leaving light kisses and love bits on your neck, his crashing into you, and his ass deeply hitting your ass.

"God fucking dammit, you take me so well pretty boy." He complimented, waited, complemented. Did Min Yoongi himself just give you a compliment, and call you a pretty boy? What the fuck is happening.

"I'm close, I'm going to cum right into you." He stated.

He pulls you back, so your back is touching his chest and pulls you into a deep kiss. Unlike the ones earlier where it was all sexual, this felt almost loving, like the one he gave you before permanently ruining your insides.

That was all you needed before shooting ropes of cum onto the mattress. He follows suit right into you, filling your insides with hot cum.

You crash onto the mattress, completely fucked out of your mind. Yoongi gets off the bed and leaves, good riddance you think.

Until he comes back with a rag to clean you up. He tosses it and gets right into his bed with you. Yoongi pulls you up and lays your head on his chest, giving you one quick kiss on the forehead.

"Best. Present. Ever." He said.

"Happy birthday bitch."

THE END

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SUGA 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊 🎂 🥳

[tinytalkingtina]

Your Loss, My Gain

Rating M | WC 665 | Ao3 link

Tags: past Tommy/Eddie, first kisses, self-esteem, Gay Tommy/Eddie, Steve is some flavor of queer it's not important for this story what label he uses, established Steve/Eddie, possessive Steve, hurt/comfort, implied/referenced blow jobs and anal sex, use of the f slur

Written for the STWG Novembr 9th prompt "True hate's kiss" Thanks to steddiecamerarollgraphics for the divider

Steve shot straight up from the bed.

"Who?!?" Eddie shrugged. 

"Tommy H. The summer before my freshman year."

"What was that, 1980?” Steve asked, doing the math in his head quickly. “Shit, Tommy and I weren't even friends yet. Didn't know he ever talked to you before you started selling weed.”

Eddie blushed.

"When his family first moved here they were in the trailer park for a year before his dad came off of active duty. We spent a lot of time running around together. It's just…” He picked at a loose thread on the blanket. 

“One day he was upset we were going to different schools in the fall, kept saying I was gonna forget him. He looked so sad, I couldn't stand it anymore. Just kinda-" He gave the quickest peck to Steve’s lips. “And told him I couldn’t forget my first kiss.”

“Oh. What'd he do when you did it?"

Eddie curled up and put his head in Steve’s lap.

"Kissed me back for a second before he punched me in the face, called me a fag, and threatened that I'd better not touch him ever again or else he’d beat the shit out of me.”

Steve stroked Eddie’s hair. It had the desired effect when some of the tension left his boyfriend’s shoulders, and Eddie closed his eyes as he continued:

“Never gave him a reason to worry after that. By the time he got to high school too I’d already joined Hellfire and found new friends, and he was busy with basketball and swimming. So it’s not like we crossed paths much. Least ’til I started dealing.”

Steve remembered how insistent Tommy had been to go put up with “the Freak” alone at any party where Eddie showed up.

“When he bought weed off you, did he…” he asked carefully. Eddie barked out a hollow laugh.

“Yeah, yeah he’d have no problem with me touching him when he was drunk off his ass, and him and Carol had broken up for what, the fifth time that year? Had it down to a choreographed dance: We’d make out for a bit then he’d push me down to the ground, ‘cause it’s totally fine to get a blow job from another guy. It’s not gay if you’re not the one on your knees you know.”

Steve felt wetness on his leg.

“And the worst thing? I let him do it. Every single fucking time. Didn’t have enough respect to shove him away. Figured this ‘true hate’s kiss’ shit I got from Tommy was the best I was gonna get so might as well take the stupid scraps of affection he bothered throwing my way. Not like there was anyone else lined up to take his place.”

Steve waited until his boyfriend’s breathing evened out before speaking up.

“Hey.” He tilted Eddie’s face until he could see his red rimmed eyes. “Fuck Tommy.”

That startled a laugh out of him.

“Sweetheart, I love topping for you when the mood strikes us, but I really would prefer not to fuck another closeted guy for the rest of my life.”

Steve laughed and scooped Eddie up in his arms.

“Please, like I would want to share you with anyone else. Really, fuck him for trying to have it both ways, and fuck that town that convinced you to give up.”

Before Eddie, Steve had always tried to squash the little voice in his head that insisted he go all out and show how badly he wanted. But now, as he held Eddie tight, he didn’t mind letting the little voice out.

“You’re mine.” 

He was going to keep Eddie for the rest of his life. And the crazy thing was, he was pretty sure Eddie wanted the same thing, judging by the awestruck expression and blush on his face whenever Steve got possessive like this.

“Your loss Tommy,” Steve thought as he ducked down to kiss Eddie. He was going to keep his happy ending.

Author's notes -You can't convince me that sports-obsessed Steve isn't good at math -Read another story that made Tommy's family a military one and rather liked the idea, so I decided to add that in here too

On a personal level, this was an awful week where I spent a lot of time in hospitals/a funeral home. This had been mostly written before that all happened, and I wasn't sure if I should post it. Managed to find a moment to feel comfortable sitting down and finishing it, so I'm just gonna put it up as is for now.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7 K Warnings: none. Prompt: Why is it that potions is always so problematic? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Not proofread

Chapter 66: Hot Love

“Well, I certainly know who my partner will be thinking of,” Sirius said maliciously towards Severus, once he overheard the conversation you were having with Slughorn. 

“Yeah, well, I know exactly who you’ll be thinking of as well,” the other boy retorted viciously. “And it won’t be your stupid little girlfriend, will it?” 

Sirius seemed taken aback by his comment. Then he remembered what Severus had seen in the bathroom. “Watch your fucking mouth.” 

Severus tilted his head. “Mine? I’m not the one placing it on other lips. On men’s lips.” 

“Severus,” Sirius warned as he turned to him. The greasy-haired boy was speaking louder than normal on purpose. Thankfully, behind the two was only James and Lily, no longer Peter and his partner since they had reassigned seats.

“What?” Severus tilted his head. “You scared your little girlfriend might hear?” he added with a snide smirk. “What would you do if I told her?” 

“How about you mind your own fucking business?” 

“Touched a nerve?” he asked as he titled his head. “Hope I did. Because if you don’t do exactly what I fucking tell you to do for the rest of potions, then I will make fucking sure she figures out, and it won’t be in a kind way.” 

“What you think you saw–”

“Don’t even fucking bother to make excuses,” he added. “Is that the real reason they kicked you out of the family? Was Potter perhaps your first lover?” 

Sirius' eyes were icy as he stared at Severus, his teeth clashing against each other so tight that they almost hurt. The idea that he might have been cast out for liking men was both disheartening and enraging. Not because he hated that he had been cast out but because he knew it would have been a perfect excuse for his parents. Their heir being a fag? Could not possibly live with that!

In a way, he loved that he’d found yet another way to infuriate his mother, but there was still that strong pang in his heart that made him hate himself for having allowed Severus, of all people, to see how he was vulnerable. 

Not that he cared about being outed or about Severs telling you anything, you already knew. But he knew Moony didn’t want the world to know, and he knew you weren’t in love with the idea either. His weakness didn’t lay on him, let alone his own feelings, but in yours and Remus’, and it made it all the more discouraging, especially when he had betrayed your feelings more than once in the past.

“Count the rose petals shreds, would you? We need one hundred and seventy-three,” Severus commanded. 

Sirius breathed out, closed his eyes and bit the bullet. He pulled them out of the jar and laid them on the table before he started counting. We have to do something about him, he thought as he let out a quiet sigh. Severus was clearly enjoying Sirius’ submissiveness, already imagining all the things he’d force Sirius to do with his newfound influence. Although, even then, he wouldn’t drag it on too much. 

He hated Sirius, but there was something more he wanted. He wanted you to feel as bad as he had felt when he saw Lily and James together. He thought it was your fault they started dating, and you became the cause of this and all of his misfortunes. You, Sirius, James and perhaps the stupid werewolf as well. He’d disliked their little group for years, but he never expected Evans to actually fall for James, and it happened just as you joined the school. In his mind, there was no way around it, it was your fault he suffered a heartache, and he would make you miserable in retaliation. 

And while Sirius, feeling miserable, counted the petals, you and Remus were happily measuring your ingredients. “Rosebud petals?” you asked as you revised the small list you’d jotted down in your notebook. 

According to Slughorn, book versions of amorentia often left one or two ingredients out since they did not want students to fully recreate such a powerful potion. But he thought that you should be taught the real potion if any of you actually aspired to become a potioneer. He had a special, annotated book, and he had dictated the ingredients from his own ‘Tried and True’ version. 

“Ready,” Remus answered as he checked the ingredients on the pile you had made on the side. 

“300 grams of Ashwinder Eggs?” You asked and he nodded. “Moon pearl dust?”

“That was two teaspoons, right?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded and ticked the little box next to the ingredient. “Honey Water infused with a drop of mint extract?” 

“It’s here,” he said as he lifted a small beaker with the right amount of it. Honey water was of a very light, slightly luminescent amber tone, made of 4 parts magically distilled water and 1 part honeyblitz luminhoney. You had been taught how to extract luminhoney once in your older school, and while you’d managed to get out of it unscratched, others weren’t quite so lucky. Honeyblitz Bees were rather feisty, and they didn’t like people digging around their honeycomb. Thankfully, Hogwarts had a rather large stash of luminhoney, so you didn’t have to worry too much about harvesting. 

The beaker Remus held in his hand, however, was of a light purplish tone, changed by the drop of mint flower extract. 

You nodded and looked back at your list “Niffler’s Fancy?“

“5 dried leaves crushed in a mortar,” he responded.

“But we added half a leave to make up for what sticks on the sides, yeah?” 

Remus smiled as he heard you and nodded, that had been something he had taught you near the start of the year. It was better to add a little bit more of those ingredients that had to be crushed to dust and squeezed. “And about half a knut of root for potency,” he reassured. 

“Not on the list, I think it’s a brilliant idea,” you responded as you added it to your notes. Potions were no place for heedless improvisation, most required exact ingredients since it was the only way to guarantee that the potion would come out all right; a little bit of the wrong ingredient and you could poison the drinker. But a potioneer with knowledge of the ingredients and their properties –a good potioneer– could add or subtract small bits of certain ingredients to alter their potion’s results. 

When you and Remus got “Outstanding” on your veritaserum, you had actually decided to add an extra Jobberknoll Feather since the ones you got had been rather small. Jobberknol feathers helped both with the potion’s potency and with the durability of its effect. Your potion, according to Slugnorn, had been the longest-lasting, which accounted for an excellent success. You had thought Severus’ face had been hilarious when Slughorn said that and praised your team in front of the entire class.

“7 puffapods?” you asked after you finished scribbling.

“Yeah, we took an extra bean, in case they’re not ripe yet.” 

“We’re not missing anything besides that, are we?” 

“The moonstone extract,” he said as he checked his notes. “Did you write that one down?” 

“Oh no, I was gonna add it in the end but completely forgot,” you said as you did. “How much of that was it?” 

“Few drops,” he said with a frown. “Until the potion reaches a Pygmy Puff pink.” 

“That’s too broad,” you said with a shrug. 

“I thought so, too,” he responded. “I asked Slughorn if there was anything on Flamel’s Potion Hue Scale, and he said to go for FPHS-P63”.

You leaned down and pulled a small booklet, about the size of a chocolate bar, from your bag. At the top, it said FPHS in big letters, and on the inside, it was filled with different colours and their names, almost like a paint sampler. The one you had, had cost a small fortune, but your mother, who had been quite good at potions herself, insisted on getting the complete version instead of the Student one. Remus and you had used it plenty of times, and it had never failed you. Even back when you made polyjuice, getting the right shade of brown (apparently FPHS-B12) had been thanks to the hue scale. 

You placed the booklet on the table next to the ingredients. “That’s it, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded with a smile.

“At least it won’t take us days to brew this one,” you said as you pulled the cauldron out and placed it over the burner –still off, you didn’t need to heat this potion yet. 

“We have the thermometer?” 

“They’re all taken, I was thinking of borrowing one when we need it,” he said and then checked your notes. “Did you pick up some Scourgify Essence by any chance?” 

“Oh yeah, it said the cauldron had to be extremely clean…” you said as you picked the small flask out of your pocket and handed it over to him. 

He carefully picked out a pipet full of it and dropped the liquid onto the cauldron. He then swivelled the liquid inside of it and placed it back on the stand before he took his wand out and whispered, “Scourgify.” The liquid made a light sizzling sound, as if burning, and created a small stream of yellow smoke with a smell oddly reminiscent of marigolds. 

“From the calming drought?” 

He sniffed, “Definitely,” he agreed. “One more time?” 

“To make sure,” you nodded as you added another pipet of the concentrate to the cauldron, this time, you performed the spell. The fizzing sound was a little louder, and the smoke was first green and then white. 

“Green was from polyjuice,” he said as he scrunched his nose to the side, the smallest expression of disgust.

“Imagine how it tasted,” you said. Although you hadn’t smelled anything at all, you’d seen the colour, and you knew Remus had a far better sense of smell. 

“And you did it for the sake of James’ date.” 

“Well, they’re a thing now, aren’t they?” you said with a smile and a small tilt of your head. “When we’re all old, I’ll be able to remind James of the time I sacrificed my sanity and cleaned the men’s loos for the sake of his relationship.”  

“Oh, and you’ll probably remind Lily and their children about it all the time. I can already imagine a senile version of you saying something along the lines of ‘You know, you owe your existence to my sacrifice’”

“I won’t be senile! Old yes, but…”

“We’re all gonna be senile one day,” he said with a smile. “I don’t mind it, though. I won’t mind going insane if it’s beside you.” 

He’d said it so casually, as he poured some of the honey water into the cauldron, that he didn’t even notice how you had almost choked on your own spit at his words. And there he was, gently stirring the liquid inside the caldron as you stared at him. He’s right. Perhaps being senile won’t be as bad if I’m with the two of them. 

“Little Witch?” he asked, for the third time, now he was looking at you. “What were you thinking about?” 

“Bubbles,” you said before he had time to tease you about it, and then grabbed the rose petals and dropped them onto the mortar. 

“Bubbles?” 

“Slughorn said we need to stir lightly, to avoid bubbles,” you repeated, almost mechanically, as you furiously crushed the rose petals in the mortar, your hand was fast and hard onto the surface, a red paste. 

“Intention,” he said with a teasing smile. “Don’t forget your intention.” 

You looked up at him and narrowed your eyes. He had a know-it-all smile that would have been infuriating had he not looked so handsome. “Worry not, I’m definitely thinking of it,” you said as you crushed the petals a little harder. It was now a rather thick paste. You tried not to think much about growing old with the boys as you looked at the mortar. “Does it say anything about straining?” you asked. 

“Book says it’s recommended, Slughorn didn’t say anything,” he said as he turned to his notes, comparing them with the book’s recipe. 

“It’s kind of lumpy,” you said as you put a little bit more force on the mortar.

“Let me try,” he said as he carefully enveloped your hands with his and replaced their spot on the mortar. One arm tangled with yours as he gently pressed the pestle into the mortar. The paste was made only a little lighter, but it was still quite thick, even after being subjected to his werewolf strength. “Perhaps we should strain it. I’ve never seen a lumpy amortentia…” 

“Me neither,” you said as you grabbed a small ladle and poured two spoonfuls of the potion onto the mortar, he mixed the paste, now much more watery. “Another one?” 

“No, I think that’s enough,“ he retorted as he continued grinding. You were both unnecessarily close to one another. Even more, than you normally were, but it seemed natural for your arms to be entangled with one another, for the side of his chest to be so close that you could tell when he was exhaling and inhaling, as if it was meant to be. As if it had always been meant to be, only you hadn’t quite realised it. 

You grabbed a small straining cloth and placed it on top of the cauldron, stretching it just enough for him to pour the petal paste –now more like petal water- onto it. Most of it went through pretty smoothly, near the end, though he used the same ladle to push the paste towards the straining cloth, squeezing out as much of the liquid still in them as possible. 

When he was done, you pulled the cloth, bunched it up, and pressed your hands on the small lump at the bottom to squeeze out any remaining liquid. 

“Should be enough, right?” 

“Yeah,” he confirmed, revising the colour of the potion and comparing it to his notes. “Does it look peachy to you?” 

“Book says it should be FPHS-RY2, right?” you said as you took the Hue Scale booklet and looked for the colour. He hummed in response and leaned even closer to you, looking over your shoulder as you placed the small shit of paper next to the cauldron. 

“We need better light,” he said as he pulled out his wand with an unspoken lumos charm. “It’s a little transparent, but I think it’s the right shade.” 

You looked up at him; he was attentively looking at the chart, his brows slightly knotted from the attentive way he was looking at the colours. You smiled and bit your lip as you looked at him. Perhaps if you weren’t in such a public place, you would have stolen a kiss from him. 

“We need to add the puffapods next,” he said as he picked up the purplish leaves that contained them. “We need to use a dissolving spell once they’re inside.” 

You nodded, taking the leaves in your hand and using a knife to open it. Puffapods were these gooey, light purple balls that smelled rather disagreeably –at least to you– and apparently to Remus as well if the way he pulled back from your side was anything to go by. In potions, it was almost always you who took on the tasks of preparing the stronger-smelling ingredients. It’d started after you figured out he was a werewolf, and he didn’t notice you’d been doing it until after he knew about your discovery. He had been so thankful, he made sure to always carry chocolate around with him during potions to give you some after class. 

You used the knife to place the puffapods onto the cauldron and wiped your hands with a rag since some of the mucus had spread out onto your hands. “I think I’ll wash my hands instead,” you said as the smell didn’t subside. 

“I’ll work on the dissolving spell while you’re at it,” he said with a simple nod and you walked towards the end of the classroom where the faucets were. By the time you walked back, Remus was already working on cracking the ahwinder eggs. The liquid inside them was a pinkish and gooey slime, with no smell to it, but when they crashed onto the rest of the potion, the smell of puffapods was swallowed completely, leaving an oddly pleasant smell of something earthy, almost like wet grass or mint.

Remus seemed to notice the change as well. “Mint?” he asked. 

“And something leathery, I think…” you said. He nodded in agreement. The smell of your potion had been so strong that apparently even Tom, on the table behind you also noticed it.

“Does anybody else smell something like sandalwood and lavender cologne?” 

“No,” said Beth as she shrugged. “It does kind of smell kind of citrusy thought.” 

“Concentrate on your brews,” Slughorn said to no one in particular, although he had a faint smile on his face as if he too had smelled something pleasant. 

“Did we bring the distiller?”

“Yeah,” he said as he pulled the crystal vases and started accommodating them all, lighting the burner with a small incendio, as you busied yourself with cutting up the niffler’s fancy leaves. It was quite common for you and Remus to work like that. Almost as if you could read each other’s minds. With a set of instructions, the two of you could go step by step almost without saying a word, just knowing exactly what the other would do with the ingredients they took in their hands. 

By the time he was done accommodating, you’d already chopped all the leaves and placed them in a beaker with exactly 9 oz of Potioneer Water for distilling magical ingredients and a knut of root. He tilted the end of the flask, and you poured it onto the blown glass opening. The mixture started bubbling, and the smaller flask on the other side of the pipets started slowly being filled with drops of lightly blue-tinted water. 

Remus checked his watch. “I think we can start boiling the potion,” he said as he handed over the burner, and you accommodated it under the cauldron. “Low, green fire,” he said. 

“Right,” you said as you filled the small of the glass bottle with dragon’s breath alcohol and sprinkled it with verdant ember dust.

“You’ll need this one too,” Remus said as he handed over an emerald wick, while it wasn’t strictly necessary to use one  –they were more expensive than normal wicks– they did help with purer fire, and Slughorn allowed students to use them in some of the more complicated potions. 

“Brilliant,” you said as you accommodated the three wicks and tightened the top of the burner. You placed it underneath the cauldron and turned the fire on with your wand, rolling the small knob at the top to lower the intensity of the fire. The diopside flames crashed against the cast iron of the cauldron. “Temperature should stay under 65 °C,” you said as you checked your notes. 

Rem turned around, looking towards Beth and Tom. They seemed to be doing fine, although their potion was a little lumpy, they could always strain it in the end. “Do you guys have a thermometer?”  

“Yeah,” Tom said as he handed it over. They were still trying to peel the puffapods, one of them had blown up on Beth’s hand, and they were both busy trying to clean off the slime off their table. “Scourgify,” Remus said. The mucus disappeared from their table and from Beth’s robes. 

“Thanks,” she said with a smile as she looked up at him. Then she turned to look at Tom and handed him the pod leaf. “You try now.” 

“No problem,” Rem said and turned back towards your potion, carefully securing the thermometer onto the side of the cauldron, and allowing only the very tip to touch the potion. You had already pulled out a special crystal spoon that was meant for mixing delicate potions. “It’s three clockwise and six counters every 5 minutes, right?” 

“Yup,” you said as you pulled out the spoon, allowed it to drip and, with a gentle wave of your hand, caused the hourglass at the end of the table to turn around.

While the time passed, both you and Remus compared your notes, scribbled so fast after Slughorn dictation that some words were almost intelligible, but in between the two of you, you’d managed to get a very complete recipe, annotating all the changes, and moving the recipe to the compendium you had both created for the class. 

At the beginning of the year, Slughorn had suggested you start your own potion book. With whatever alterations you made, or got recommended by him, and a detailed memoir of your experience making each potion. You had both decided to add the memoir as a separately attached parchment and use the notebook as your personal recipe book. The sections on polyjuice, Veritaserum and Draught of Living Dеath were the longest and most detailed, since you had made a few modifications to them, and they were also the ones both you and Remus thought could be useful later. The plan was to use Gemino by the time it was ready so you both could keep your own copy. 

“We strained before adding the rose petals, instead of in the end, yeah?” 

He hummed in return and pointed at the straining cloth you’d used. “I think you used acromantula silk for that.” 

“Yeah, the finest available,” you said as you added that as a footnote. 

Then, there was a soft chime from the end of the table. “I’ll do the mixing,” Remus said softly as you looked towards the cauldron. “Focus on getting that thought down,” he added as he walked behind you and placed a hand on the back of your neck. He picked the spoon from the plate you’d left it on and dipped it into the potion, gently making the necessary turns and eyeing you as you wrote down some details of the peeling and adding of the puffapods. He smiled as he saw you gently biting your lower lip in concentration. He thought you looked absolutely adorable.

“I think I’m gonna add an extra clockwise stir.” 

“Okay,” you said as you scribbled that on the side of your parchment. Remus was brilliant at calculating the mixing process, so you never questioned his judgement regarding extra stirs. 

When he was done, you waved your hand again, restarting the clock and then focusing on the small drawing of the puffapods you’d decided to add to the side of the ingredients list. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you how beautiful you look when you’re writing things down,” he said with a smile as he leaned a little closer to you. Taking a pencil from the end of the table as an excuse for leaning against you.

You could feel your cheeks heating up from how close he was and how terribly delightful he smelled. Or perhaps it was the entire classroom that smelled nice? No, that’s not it, you thought. There was still some of that Puffapod smell coming from somewhere near the back. Even then, his smell, or the smell around you at least, seemed to overpower your senses. The temptation to turn around and kiss him was almost too strong to resist. But you somehow managed to force your eyes back onto the paper. 

“Don’t be such a tease,” you murmured.

“It’s not teasing,” he insisted, drawing just a little closer. “It’s true.” 

You had to bite your cheeks not to let out a strangled sound. His presence was overwhelming to you at that moment. And you didn’t want to fight it, you wanted only to give in. 

“Keep in mind the sole smell of amorentia can cause havoc,” Slughorn said. “Be careful as you smell it, and remember that perhaps your thoughts are being affected by the brewing. Especially during the infusion period.” 

Remus turned to Slughorn and upon realising just how close he’d gotten to you, practically pressing his chest onto your back. He pulled back almost in an instant, taking a pencil with him and clearing his throat. “That’s the thing you needed?” he asked as he left an eraser on your notebook.

You knew he was only covering for his overly affectionate moment seconds ago, but you nodded. “Yeah,” you said. “Thanks, Luv.” 

He threw you a reproachful look since you rarely used that nickname with him. You simply smiled and sent a short wink his way. Then you turned towards the destination area you’d set up earlier. “I think it’s done,” you said. There was 3 oz of blueish liquid on the small crystal tube. “It’s probably very concentrated.” 

“Yeah,” Remus said as he turned off the fire on that burner and used his want to float the tube towards his face. The smell emanating from it was earthy and fresh, exactly like distilled niffler’s fancy should smell like. 

When the hourglass chimed again, he poured the liquid onto the potion and turned the fire off. The potion was now of a light lilac colour, thick slow bubbles seemed to start at the very top and face towards the bottom of the cauldron, the smell much more powerful now. There was a small hint of chocolate on it now too. At least for you, for Remus, it smelled a little like the perfume you’d worn to the slugparty. 

“Is that meant to happen?” you asked.

“Yeah, it’s actually a good sign,” he said as he took the crystal spoon and started stirring. “It’s four and then the pearl dust,” he said.

“Ready,” you said as you took the small recipient with the premeasured shimmery dust.

He turned his hands counterclockwise four times, and you started throwing the dust on the cauldron, gently tapping on the sides of the crystal recipient to make sure all of it fell where it was meant to. After three more stirs, the smell had become even more potent than before. Some students from the back of the class were even peeking through their own cauldrons, trying to figure out where the nice scents were coming from. 

“And now it’s the last ingredient,” he said as he pulled out the small dropper with the moonstone extract. Meanwhile, you took the FPHS and looked for the P63. You lit your wand up next to the potion, which was a silvery lilac colour and had a shimmering-like effect –caused by the pearl dust. 

He poured one drop, and the colour changed, becoming a little more warm. Rem added three more drops, and it already looked pink, just a very pale, almost rose-petal pink, not quite P63. He added two more drops, and the colour was already much closer to a match. Not to mention the smell of the potion had become even stronger, almost intoxicating from how much it drew you in, and towards each other. Even Sirius, who had been impossibly annoyed by Severus throughout his entire class, had turned around and started staring at the two of you working on the last steps of your potion. The smell drawing you and Remus in, seeming to work just the same on him.

 “One or two more?” Remus asked. 

You frowned and bit your lip, looking at the colour it was and thinking of the one you wanted to achieve. All the while also thinking of both Remus and Sirius and how potent the smell of them on the potion was by now. “Two,” you said confidently.

He poured two more drops and the potion finally matched P63, the smell became so strong for a moment that it flooded the entire classroom, everyone seemed to turn to look towards your table and you heard Severus curse under his breath. You wonder if his potion smelled like the Rosehoney of Lily’s perfume, or if perhaps it was the tropical smell of her muggle coconut shampoo she loved so much that he was perceiving.  

Slughorn walked towards your table, the smell was still strong, but he had used a spell to dissipate some of the smell outside of the classroom through the ventilator tubes on the sides of the walls. 

“It seems we have the first finished potion,” he said as he approached. “And the scent is quite strong, too. Perhaps some of the strongest amorentia I’ve smelled.”

“Thank you, Professor,” both you and Remus said at the same time. 

“Nothing to thank for,” he retorted with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Now, tell me, what do you smell?” 

You cleared your throat. “There’s a minty leathery smell, perhaps with some undertones of pine trees and fresh morning air,” you said. 

“And the next scent?” 

“Books,” you said, “and um… something sweet,” you didn’t want to say it was chocolate in case someone was listening in to the conversation. 

“The last one?” 

“It’s the smell of a forest at night,” you said. “Damp earth and moss, wild herbs, evergreen and dew. I also detect a bit of–” you stopped yourself. “Never mind, I don’t know what it is.” 

Slughorn looked at you with a bit of a suspicious air, but Remus was the one who had to bite his lips in order to stop a smile from spreading. He had a faint idea of what you might be smelling since he too had gotten that. 

“And you, Mr. Lupin?” 

“Books too,” he said. “A perfume, don’t know what it’s made of, and something musky and earthy.” 

Slughorn nodded thoughtfully as if he was considering the smells. “And?” 

“Ugh, I’m not sure what that is,” he lied. It was the same leathery scent you had smelled, except for him it smelled more of Sirius’ fancy citric soap –even after he got kicked out of his house, he still bought the same elegant soap, and whenever he left the bathroom the entire place was imprinted with that smell. That smell had not only imprinted itself on the bathroom but also on Remus’ mind. The things he had imagined weren’t something he had been proud of after he’d emptied himself out in the shower. “Perhaps some kind of soap,” he added in the end. 

“And the last smell?” 

“Can’t tell,” he lied again. It was the smell of his coat that night at the Potters. You and Sirius. As unmistakable as the sun, and as obvious as the Moon or the brightest star in the night’s sky.  

“Perhaps if you lean a little closer?” Slughorn said as he tilted his head. 

“I mean, I definitely smell something,” Remus corrected. “I just don’t know what the scent is.”

“Well, that’s rather interesting,” he said with a smile. You sensed he was about to ask something else. And you knew the tight spot Rem was in, so you decided to intervene. 

“What do you smell, Professor?” 

“What do I–” he asked, almost puzzled. “Well, I…” 

Got him, you thought as you saw his nervousness. “I mean not to pride, Professor. I just wanted to know if our potion was successful.” 

“Oh yes, excellently so,” he nodded as he composed himself. ”I smell flowers, evening flowers to be precise. A gardenia, evening primrose and  Abyssinian gladiolus,” he explained. “I think there’s some serpent musk and I believe that’s the very particular smell of giant squid ink and old books.” 

“Do you also feel a third smell?” you asked. The more he lost himself in his own thoughts, the further he’d be from asking Remus something else. Rem threw an almost nervous look your way and reached for your hand from under the table, you squeezed his reassuringly, not taking your gaze away from Slughorn. 

Slughorn hesitated, only now realising how intrusive he might have seemed as he asked you and Remus to describe the scents you perceived in the potion. “Yes,” he said. The smell was quite strong and clear for him. “Cold and crisp air. The kind of scent you get from standing on a cliff.” And there was also something of that coppery scent that dark magic carried mixed into it, but as you and Remus had done earlier, he decided not to elaborate further on the thing he smelled.

“Oh,” you said as you leaned towards the potion again. “Should we bottle this then?” 

“Please,” he said with a smile. “There are some clean bottles on my table. You may pick whichever you like,” he added before he walked towards a different table. 

“What was the thing you didn’t mention?” Remus asked as he leaned a little closer to you.

“Canine scent,” you said with a smile. “Moony and Pads. You?” 

“Your perfume,” he admitted. “And…” There was a hesitation there, an almost imperceptible gulp before he was brave enough to speak it aloud.  “My coat.” 

“Your coat?” you asked confused, and then it dawned on you. “By Merlin. Your coat!” 

“And Sirius’ soap.” 

“The one that smells kind of like tangerine and sandalwood?” He nodded. You hummed shortly in response. “I’ll get a bottle,” you said as you walked towards Slughorn’s desk. 

The assortment of bottles there was huge. From small bottles that could only be used to hold extremely powerful –or explosive-prone– potions, to the larger flask that would normally be used for potions with a longer shelf life or that were used quite frequently (like Pomfrey’s Skellegro). You sorted through the bottles and grabbed a medium-sized one.  About the size of a flattened apple, and with quite a similar shape as well. It was quite heart-shaped, but it was quilted,  hobnailed, or something in between, and it had the slightest pinkish hue that you thought could perhaps enhance the shimmering P63 of your potion.

It’s not that you cared so much about the presentation, but you knew Slughorn did, he had an eye for beautiful things. The way he stored his own potions was indicative enough, besides, every time he was giving a beautiful-looking potion, whoever had given it got either praise for it or a better grade. So once you’d chosen what you thought would be the right bottle, you moved over to find a cork that would fit. 

While you were walking back to your table you heard an explosion coming from a cauldron near the back. “Mr. Prewet, how on earth did you manage to blow something up in a potion with no explosive ingredients?” 

“I think I confused purple explosivepods with puffapods,” he said as he looked at the small gooey –much brighter– leaf in his hand… Sorry.” 

Slughorn sighted and quickly vanished all the ingredients from his table with a simple “evaneso.” Then he looked at the boy rather sternly. “You and your partner will write an essay on everything that went wrong in your potion to pass the assignment.” 

 “Can’t I do that too?” someone asked. It was Janice, one of Beth’s roommates. 

“No, Miss Stevenson. You must finish your potion.” 

“But it’s blue!” She complained as she stared at her cauldron. “It’s meant to be pink!” 

“Did you distil the niffler’s fancy leaves?” You asked.

“Distil?” she asked as she stared back at her book. “It’s not on the instructions.” 

“No,” Slughorn said. “But I mentioned it was much better to distil it, since sometimes niffler’s fancy leaves are inconsistent in concentrations.” 

“You did?” she asked with a frown to which Slughotn nodded. 

You gave her an apologetic smile and a shrug. “You could try adding a little bit more honeywater to even things out, but you’ll have to improvise with the stirring…” 

Remus, who was writing some stuff down on his parchment, turned to look at her as well. “I think you’d need 4 extra turns to the right and one to the left for it to work.” 

“It’s five to the right,” Severus said with an eye roll. “Or 6, depending on how much honey water they add.” 

Remus looked back at his notes with a small frown, scribbling something before scoffing. “Snape is right, 6 to be certain.” 

“Oh, thank you,” she said with a smile, looking both at you and Remus and then a much shyer, almost scared look towards Severus. “And you,” she added much more quietly. 

“I was just correcting Lupin, I don’t care about your potion,” he retorted and went back to his cauldron. 

She just swallowed and walked towards the ingredient cabinet to get the stuff she would need to, hopefully, fix her mess. 

You walked back towards Rem with the flask, he’d already picked out the crystal funnel, and you accommodated onto the opening of the flask while he used the ladle to slowly fill up the bottle. Once the bottle was filled, there was still about half as much potion left inside the cauldron. 

Normally whatever was left over (unbottled) became “Caput Mortuum” as Slughorn liked to call it, and he threw it down the drain. But before you had time to pick up the cauldron, Slughorn was back at your table. “Finished?” 

“Almost,” you said as you removed the funnel and passed the cork to Remus who had already picked out the label you’d be adding. 

“Excellent,” he said and moved his wand on top of your cauldron. “Potio Evanesco,” he said. The potion spiralled down until it completely disappeared. “Last time a strong potion like this one was poured down the drain, the school had quite a wild week,” he explained. “You may leave after your clean-up,” he said after revising his watch.” 

“Thank you,” Remus replied. Since the cauldron was already clean, you limited yourselves to just taking the leftover ingredient flasks and placing them back in their respective cabinets. 

As you were walking back to your place to pick your bag up, you decided to pay a small visit to Sirius, who looked absolutely miserable as he was writing some things down. 

“How’s the potion?” you asked him.

“Not sure,” he admitted. “I’ve only weighed the ingredients three times each.” 

You frowned and turned to look at Severus who looked uncomfortable by how close you were standing to Sirius. “Do you really think three times is absolutely necessary?” 

“Worry about your own brews,” he retorted without looking at you. Not that he was doing anything important. Just looking at his hourglass.

“Has he been like that all class?” Sirius nodded. “I’m sorry for you,” you told Severus. 

“I’m the one that’s sorry for you,” retorted Severus as he finally turned to you. 

“Beg your pardon?” 

He stared daggers at you for a second and opened his mouth as if he were about to say something and then stopped himself. If he was going to make you suffer, he was going to drag it on and end with a bang. Not here where Sirius could just tell you Severus had made it all up, and since you were so enamoured by him, you’d probably gobble all his lies. “Nothing,” he said haughtily. “You’re distracting my partner, please leave.” 

“But he wasn’t doing anything.” 

“He’s writing the log.” 

“And what is he going to write now? Severus looks at the hourglass while we wait for another 5 minutes? Severus looks at the hourglass while we wait another 4 minutes? Don’t be ridiculous!” 

“You are exhausting my patience, girl.” 

“And you’re exhausting mine,” you retorted. “If you treat people like shit all the time, then it makes sense nobody likes you. Heck even the portraits–” 

“The portraits? How do you even–” There was a second of silence before he looked back at you, with even more hatred than before. “It was you!” 

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you retorted calmly. “I’m just saying I heard the portraits talk shit behind your back.” And after that, you added. “Severus Snail.” 

Severus stood up from his seat. “You don’t want to continue messing with me.” 

“You’re the one behaving like a child,” you retorted just as aggressively. 

“At least I didn’t get my friend and my mother kiIIed.” You were instantly taken aback by his words. Frozen in place as they sank in. When he knew he’d gotten his hand on a fresh wound, he decided to press even harder. “And that’s not even the only thing that’s breaking apart in your perfect little life, is it? What will you do when–” 

“That’s enough,” Sirius said as he stood in the middle. 

“No, no,” Severus said as he placed his hand on Sirius’ shoulder and gently placed him back on his seat. “You sit down if you don’t want me to go running my mouth about you-know-what.”

Sirius gave you a worried look, and it was your short nod that got him to yield. Severus smiled, clearly pleased about being the one with the power in the situation. “At least I have friends, when was the last time you talked to her?” 

Yeah, he might have known where to hurt you, but you also knew how to get back at him. “I have friends!” 

“Severus Snape has no friends,” you said, voice low. “Even the house elves whisper about it.” 

“I’ll make your life bloody miserable. Shatter your little dream house.”

“You’re welcome to try!” 

“Is everything all right?” Slughorn asked as he leaned closer to the three of you. 

“Just came to ask Sirius about some homework we’re working on,” you said as you patted your boyfriend on the back. “Good luck on your potion boys!” 

Remus had been looking at the whole confrontation from his spot, ready to jump in if it ever got to it. And when you walked back towards him, he’d already finished packing most of his, and your things. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you lied. The pang of your heart caused by Severus’ nasty words still echoing in your head. “Let’s get out of here,” you added as you slung your bag around your shoulder.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Since we're getting close to the end, I'm planning to do a reread (10-15 chaps left) + heavy revision once we're done (still a few months from there but it's probably going to be done sometime this year) because I want to make my own printed version of it (probably on Lulu), and perhaps a cute epub file? It will probably contain pictures, fan art, and other bonus material. Either way, if you want to collaborate, either in the revision or in bonus content, please don't hesitate to hit me up.

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[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Sloppy Arackniss Redesign (?)

Before I get into this, clarifying, I SAY SLURS IN THIS!!! I CAN RECLAIM SAID SLURS!!! That is all thank you. I kiss boys and love men. Carry on.

Arackniss’s design is bound to change drastically sometime eventually but atm this is just what im doing. My main problem is how he just looks exactly like angel but black. I know thats originally what the whole thing is and they’re opposites but it’s just kinda boring now. Angel is an entirely different character at this point now and Arackniss’s design should accommodate the changes while still being a bit similar looking. I want him to still look very similar to Angel in specific ways like that stupidass headshape but not because of a sibling thing. Honestly when the two were alive they hardly looked anything alike I’m 100% sure of that. Antonio (Arackniss) had black hair and much broader features and was relatively tall and kind of bulky while Anthony & Molly had light blonde hair and more subtle and soft round features and basically one of the only ways to tell them apart aside from personality was Anthony having polycoria and having bloodshot eyes pretty often.

Arackniss hardly looks how he did when he was alive anymore and has taken on many more features of Angel because of his deep rooted rivalry with his brother. I assume hating your middle-child brother that literally got named after you only to have him overdose and kill himself before actually doing anything with his life is enough to stir up more than a little bit of inner turmoil. These guys probably beat each other up OFTEN. Antonio was the first born son and dealt with so much shit before these other guys even were born and when they did show up, Anthony was named after him because their parents honestly just got lazy, and even though Molly didn’t have the name Molly yet, she was still treated like a golden child even though she contributed next to nothing to the family business which yeah that helped her in the long run but to Antonio that’s his number one priority in life. Appeasing his family is what keeps his brain running. And with that, seeing this random kid show up, get named after you, and be treated so much more leniently than you were AND he’s practically your problem because youre 15 hes like fucking 3 years old and your parents are busy all of the goddamn time AND when you DIE you take on the traits of this stupid fucking kid. He has a horrid case of eldest child syndrome and probably some insane identity issues.

This isn’t to say his hatred is only directed at Anthony either, he definitely has his issues with Molly as well, but she kept more to herself and even if she followed Anthony nonstop she was copying what Anthony was doing instead of what he was doing. Copying is the highest form of flattery but flattery gets annoying when everyone cares about the younger “better behaved” version of you. This is one of the biggest reasons Arackniss berates Angel now and in the past. Even though they havent spoken in years, Arackniss still holds Angel to the status of “faggot” because that was practically the only thing he was “worse” than him at. It was the biggest dirt he had on Angel possible to the point that became a genuine used name for him as Anthony “the fag” Benetti. Finding out your angel of a brother is gay during a time where it’s heavily frowned upon, especially by your own family is like a gold mine.

Arackniss is NOT a good person if you couldn’t somehow tell already. He’s homophobic, has a masculinity and classism problem, has little to no regard for other’s well being, and a bunch of other shit. For as distressed as he was over Anthony’s death, a lot of it was because it left their family even more dysfunctional. To him it was Anthony abandoning everyone because they weren’t worth enough to keep him going and then in return he continues to be praised and talked about so wonderfully as if he never did anything wrong “just because he’s dead”.

Thats just BEFORE Arackniss died too! AFTER dying shit got even worse to the extent he ended up even getting disowned! How fun!! This part delves more into Husk and his backstory as well which I think I may save for another time, but these guys know each other and have a lot of beef and also simultaneously are kind of chill in an odd way? By the way, Angel also has the big neck puff, he just shaves it because he doesn’t like the look and like association from trauma

[octuscle]

There is this man I see on the train every morning in a full suit, probably a manager at one of the city firms, that pulls such a disgusted face when he sees young guys in tracksuits getting on the train with him. What setting do I pick to help him 'relate' more with his fellow man?

Suit fits perfectly, shirt is neatly ironed, shoes polished, hair styled. Samuel was very pleased with his reflection in the mirror.

He picked up his laptop bag and made his way to the subway. If he managed to get the promotion to department director next week, he would finally be entitled to a company car with a driver and, above all, a parking space right in the office building. He couldn't wait. He hated the subway. Dirt, bad air and horrible people. All the stupid conversations he had to listen to. He couldn't stand it any longer.

Bloody hell! Maybe it's good luck when a pigeon shits on you, but the jacket was ruined. Luckily, the dry cleaner was on his way to the subway stop. So it had to go without a jacket today. And he could take a trip to Savile Row during his lunch break. He would need a few new suits for his new position anyway.

The tube was packed. Maybe it was a good thing he wasn't wearing a jacket. It was warm enough as it was. But something was different today… He didn't mind the smell of other people. On the contrary. The guy in the nylon tracksuit reeked terribly of fresh sweat. And it gave Samuel a hard-on. But something else was different… Had he forgotten his own deodorant? Samuel secretly smelled his armpit, where sweat stains were forming. Hell yeah, that didn't smell like his Penhaligon's deodorant… He would have to freshen up in the office.

After changing trains, Sam finally had room to move again. Okay, he had to keep standing. But maybe it was also because of his body smell that the other passengers kept their distance. His back was soaking wet under his rucksack. Shit, the office container in the scrapyard wasn't air-conditioned, it was going to be another hot day. Only two more semesters, then Sam would graduate, then he would find a better job than the one in the metal recycler's office.

When he finally arrived at the end of the line, Sam wanted to buy a pack of cigarettes for the remaining short walk. Shit, he didn't have enough money again. But thank God he would get his pay later. And luckily he was able to bum a fag from one of the scallys hanging around the bus stop. He knew a few of the lads from the pub, and one even helped out in the scrapyard sometimes.

"Oi boss," Sam called out to his boss when he arrived at the scrapyard a few minutes late. "I'll just get changed, hav a piss n' then i'll be ready." His boss rolled his eyes. Sam was a good boy who could work hard. But like most chavs, he simply lacked discipline. And his personal hygiene was simply catastrophic.

Doumentation of Samuels way to Sam found @mensuited, @alphaincar and @workingdudes

[la-principessa-della-squadra]

miscellaneous ghiaccio headcanons? i really like your interpretation of the character

Squadra Miscellanea p.1 -Ghiaccio's random headcanons

Tw: drugs, alcohol, general violence and degradation, blasphemies, Loretta Goggi

Hates when people are late for appointments (or dates). This is a trait he shares with Illuso.

He has really poor eyesight. But that doesn't really matter since he's farsighted and he doesn't really care 'where to punch'.

Violence is not an answer. Violence is the question and the answer is 'Yes'.

Extremely violent outbursts for "no apparent reason".

When he first met Illuso, he punched him in the guts after he teased him for his thick glasses

"ma te vara questo... Uè pistola, ma ci vedi attraverso quei bicchieri ?"

(Look at this nerd...Hey fuckface, can you see behind those magnifying lens?)

And then kicked Formaggio in the knee because he laughed...

Doesn't know how to properly compliment or show that 'he cares' to anyone.

Jealous partner. Jealous admirer.

"Me so rabiato? No me so rabiato. Davèr-Te lo dico con calma...DIO BOIA CHI CAZO È CHE TE CIÀMA?!? DIO PORSELÀSO CAN! DAME STO PORCODIO DE TELEFONO."

(I'm calm. I just want to know-No.no. really I'm calm-I just want to know WHO DA FUCK IS CALLING YOU RIGHT NOW?! GIVE ME THE DAMN PHONE.)

He usually redirects his anger towards the target but sometimes La Squadra are not the only people who take advantage of his outbursts...

According to Melone:

"Deh, Gliè rabbia repressa. Un ce po' fah dimorto. Ir problema è 'he diventa fascile da manipolare. Boia,Le bimbe s'approfittano. Peffozza."

(Repressed rage is even better than plain and simple rage. It is so easy to manipulate him through his feelings.)

Melone is the only person in the group that allows him to be vulnerable.

Deep conversations late at night while 'Maledetta Primavera' plays.

Eats a lot. Many carbs and protein but doesn't get fat (lucky him.)

Ghiaccio can chug an entire bottle of Vodka lemon with an empty stomach

Then he would vomit and shit himself. Those are usual consequences

He hits the gym at least 3 times a week. Sometimes Formaggio goes with him to catcall the girls

"ABBONA! Dopo la ciclett te lo fai un giro su st'attrezzo?! Annamo!"

(HEY BABE! Can I be part of your workout?! I can make you sweat for good)

"TASI. TASI DIOPORCO. Qui mi conoscono, Diopittore."

(SHUT UP. SHUTTHEFUCK UP. I pay for a regular membership here, you balding fag)

"RUM E COCAINA...ZA ZA!"

He gets the snow. He's usually in charge of that. (Read the misadventures et al. Tequila Sale e limone)

He cuts it with whatever.

Malox,Brufen,Tachipirina? That's fine

Before joining the gang he used to drink, snort and smoke like it was the end of the world.

Now he's more in control.

He occasionally does LSD with Melone and never refuses a drag from Pesci's joint.

Formula 1 enjoyer. He's a great fan of Michael Schumacher and a Ferrari estimator.

Unnecessary hate for poor Mika Häkkinen and McLaren

"VIA SCHUMIIIII! NÀSI A CAGAR MCLAREN DI MERDA! ETERNO SECONDO! DIO TARANTELLA!"

(FUCK MCLAREN AND THAT STUPID ASS FINNISH FAGGOT.)

Once he and Melone lost a bet at the strip club and the girls turned their hair blonde.

There are pictures of the event.

Pesci kept them in secret

-La Principessa della Squadra