#because I love them and they’re delightful

[millers-girl]

these violent delights

chapter 9 of willow & whiskey

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: you and Ellie are left to fend for yourselves and in the snow-covered wreckage of a forgotten town, you learn what people are truly capable of... and what you’re capable of, too.

warnings/tags: age gap, adult language, blood and violence, injury, death, castration, mentions of sexual harassment/assault

word count: 5.6k

series masterlist

“Shit,” you mumbled, voice tight, eyes glued to the swollen, tender skin around Joel’s stitches. The area was angry and wet, ringed with red and seeping pus. You glanced up at Ellie. “It’s infected.” 

She was already moving, rifling through the dwindling supplies you’d gathered with frantic hands. “W–well, how do we fix it? What does he need?” 

You laid the back of your hand against Joel’s temple. The heat beneath his damp skin confirmed it – the fever was getting worse. He was burning up. Fading.

You swallowed the lump rising in your throat. “He needs medicine,” you said softly, defeatedly.

After a pause, Ellie’s breath stuttered.

“Where the fuck are we gonna find that?” 

“I don’t know,” you admitted, voice cracking around the edges. You couldn’t look at Joel for too long or you’d fall apart. His face was too still. His chest rose and fell, but shallowly. He was too close to the line.

Your gaze shifted back to Ellie, who was staring at him, eyes wide, jaw clenched, like she was trying to memorize his features – like she was bracing to lose him.

“Why don’t you take the rifle?” you offered gently. “Go hunting. See if you can catch something?” 

She blinked, nodding slowly. But you saw the hesitation in her eyes. 

This wasn’t about food. Not really. It was about getting her out of this suffocating basement – away from Joel’s labored breathing and the quiet dread creeping in like cold through the cracks in the foundation. 

She was a kid. She shouldn’t have to carry this kind of weight.

She climbed to her feet, grabbing the rifle. Her shoulders were stiff as she headed upstairs, glancing over her shoulder before the door closed behind her.

The silence that followed was thick and unnatural. You sat beside Joel, heart tight in your chest. Snow fell softly outside the boarded-up windows, casting faint shadows on the walls.

“I can’t believe I’m finally letting all my emotions out and you’re not even awake to see it,” you muttered under your breath, brushing a curl from his damp forehead. “You practically begged me for it for five days. Now, who’s the stubborn one?” 

Your fingers found his. They’re colder than they should be.

“I was serious about what I said before,” you whispered, quieter now. “You better now fucking die. I didn’t come all this way just to bury you in some fucking basement.” 

The silence stretched. The only reply was the rasp of his breath.

You leaned in close, pressing your forehead lightly to his temple. “I love you.”

It slipped out, almost carelessly – like a secret you didn’t mean to say aloud.

But it wasn’t careless. It was a long time coming.

It was in everything between you two.

In the way he draped his jacket over you as you slept. In the way you made him coffee every morning, even if you didn’t really drink it yourself. In the way he carved the fox for you. In the way you teased him. In the way you treated each other like family, because you were.

“I love you,” you repeated, the words feeling like the most natural thing you’d ever said. “So come back and tell me you love me too.”

You tightened your grip on his hand.

When Ellie returned hours later, she stumbled down the stairs, red-faced and breathless. 

“Holy fucking shit,” she gasped. She rushed to you, clutching two small bottles in her shaking hands. “I got medicine. I got him medicine. Is this okay?” 

You blinked, stunned, as you took them from her. “Ellie… where did you get this?” 

“I ran into people while I was hunting. Shot this deer, tried to trade half of it for medicine, but…” She faltered. “The two men I ran into – they were from the same group. The ones at the university. The guy who stabbed Joel.”

Your stomach dropped. “What?” 

“I’ll explain, can you just – ” She gestured frantically to Joel, and you sprung into action, peeling his shirt up. The sight of the angry wound nearly stopped you, but you steeled yourself. The syringe felt awkward in your hand.

“Where the fuck do I even put this?” you muttered, glancing at Ellie. She just shrugged helplessly.

You took a breath. Fuck it.

You slid the needle into the edge of the wound and injected the penicillin. Joel didn’t even flinch.

“Come on,” you whisper. “Please, Joel. Hold on.” 

You pulled the blanket back over him and pressed a trembling kiss to his temple. He was still burning up.

Ellie curled up beside him, trying to share her body heat. You laid down on the other side, stretching your hand across Joel’s chest until it met hers.

A fragile tinge of hope warmed the coldest place you’d ever know.

“Who were those guys?” you asked softly. “The ones you ran into?” 

“They said they had some small town four miles out.” 

“That’s not far,” you frowned.

“Should we move?” Ellie returned.

“I don’t know. Did they seem… dangerous? Like they were out for revenge?” 

Ellie frowned. “I couldn’t tell.” 

“That’s dangerous.” You closed your eyes. “We should move.” 

You both fell quiet. Joel wheezed faintly in his sleep.

“In the morning,” you decided. “Let’s wait a little, see if the medicine kicks in.”

Ellie nodded in agreement.

Morning came quicker than you anticipated, the air outside brittle and sharp. You and Ellie took turns obsessively checking Joel’s wound. You’d convinced each other that it was getting less red – maybe. Maybe.

You fed the horses in silence, fingers numb, breath visible in the cold.

That’s when the flock of birds over your heads scattered.

You should’ve seen it coming. The moment they scattered, their cawing echoing around you like a warning, your gut coiled tight. Ellie stiffened beside you, hand twitching toward her rifle. 

Then, the first man appeared – half-shadowed in the trees, gun drawn. And then another. And another. Five… six…

You could tell when the leader Ellie had spoken of, David, appeared into view. Calm, steady, like he was taking a stroll through a goddamn churchyard instead of hunting you three down.

“Go,” you mumbled, low enough for only Ellie to hear. “Back to Joel. Run.”

She didn’t move.

“Ellie, I said – ”

“No,” her voice wavered, but her resolve remained strong. “I’m not leaving you.” 

Your eyes didn’t leave David as he lifted his hand, a silent signal. The men fanned out, quiet as ghosts.

You subtly pulled Ellie back towards where Orion was grazing, a few yards away. 

“Clever,” David’s voice cut through the trees. “Hiding your friend in this neighborhood. But didn’t take us long to track you.” 

The conversational tone of his voice made your skin crawl. 

But you didn’t let it distract you as you shoved the reins into Ellie’s hands. “Climb up. Now.”

“What about Joel?” she whispered. 

“We’ll lead them away. He’ll be safer if we’re not here,” you explained, climbing up in front of her and taking the reins.

You turned to face the group. “Hey, assholes!” you shouted. “Come and get us.”

Orion took off like a shot. The wind stung your face as Ellie clutched onto you tightly. 

Then – a gunshot.

Orion reared, screaming. His hooves collapsed beneath you, snow rushing up and Ellie’s arms ripping away as you hit the ground hard. Everything went white and sharp.

“Ellie!” you screamed, scrambling toward her. She was lying crumpled in the snow. Unconscious.

You barely got to her before rough hands grabbed your arms. You pulled your knife, slashing wildly, hitting someone’s ankle – but they overwhelmed you.

Someone grabbed you from behind – strong, fast. Another punched the side of your head, making your vision tilt. 

You hit the ground again, snow in your mouth, blood in your ears. 

“Don’t kill her!” David shouted. “We need them both breathing.” 

Your knife got ripped from your hands and a man hauled you up, struggling and screaming and biting whoever’s flesh was closest to you but you were smaller. Outnumbered. 

Your arms were wrenched behind your back, rope biting into your wrists. A man grabbed your hood, yanking you upright, eye-to-eye with David. He brushed snow from your cheeks, in a gentle and sickening way. 

“You’ll understand soon,” he said softly. “You don’t have to be afraid.” 

You spat in his face.

In retaliation, they dragged you roughly through the snow, letting the forest swallow you whole.

And the last thought that broke through the pain was the one that made your knees go weak. Joel doesn’t even know you’re gone.

The cage you woke up in was cold, barren. You lifted your head first, feeling it pulsing in pain. Your eyes adjusted to see the wire fence caging you in, in a kitchen of sorts. 

Ellie was in the cage beside you, now awake, and when she met your eyes, she rushed over, fingers straining to shove through the bars and meet yours.

“I started worrying you wouldn’t wake up,” David’s voice echoed through the large room, making you snap your head towards him.

“Let us out,” you growled, voice thick with unease.

“Well, that’s certainly the goal… The others, they want me to kill you both for all that’s happened… but I stopped them.” 

You scoffed. “Yeah, out of the goodness of your heart, I’m sure. Fucker.”

He paused for a moment, seemingly taken aback with your potty mouth, and then said, “Why don’t we start with names?” 

“Eat shit,” Ellie retorted, making him glance between you two, considering the dynamic.

“Mom and daughter?” he guessed, before correcting himself, having seemingly had a lightbulb go off in his head. “Sisters.” 

When you didn’t confirm nor deny, he hummed, standing from the stool he was sitting on and stepping closer to the cages. “You two—small, weak, frail—can’t survive on your own.”

“Why don’t you come over here and find out?” you growled at him.

“I can help you,” he insisted. “I can protect you.” 

“We already have someone for that,” you spat. 

“Right,” David said. “Your friend… and how is he?” You didn’t dare let your face give anything away. But Ellie’s hardened look cracked, just a little. “I can see how much you both care about him, so I know it hurts. But even so, you two gotta face reality. That part of your lives, it’s ending. But what I'm offering you is a beginning. You two need to find a way to trust me because, otherwise, yeah – you will be alone.” 

He gave a final, patient smile, as if he was offering you mercy. Then, he turned and left, the heavy door clanking shut behind him, locking you and Ellie back into silence.

You moved first, testing the bars, even though you already knew they were solid. Cold metal bit into your fingers as you pulled, yanked, searched for any weakness. Nothing – just rust and steel and the sharp throb of your own frustration.

Ellie mirrored your efforts on her side, rattling her cage with all the defiance she could muster. “There has to be a way out,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “There has to be.”

You scanned the room – the wooden table in the center stained with dark, dried something; the butcher tools hung meticulously on the walls; the bloodied hooks overhead. 

Every inch of this place screamed something was off, but your brain was still too focused on survival to fully clock it.

Ellie gave the bars one more frustrated shake before slumping to the ground with a groan. You sat too, letting out a long, steadying breath. For a second, the silence stretched between you – thick, aching.

Then Ellie stilled.

She was staring toward the table, brows furrowed, mouth slightly open. “What is that?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

You followed her line of sight. At first, all you saw was the leg of the butcher's table, thick wood and iron bolts. But then your eyes adjusted, and your stomach twisted.

There, lying half-hidden in the shadow beneath the corner of the table, was a human ear. Pale and small. Jagged at the edge, as though it had been crudely sliced off.

You went still. Every sound seemed to drop away as you came to the realization. Your mind tried to reject what you were seeing.

No. No, that can’t be –

Except it could.

The stains. The saws. The bloody hooks hanging from the ceiling. David’s calm insistence that this was a beginning. That you and Ellie had to “face reality.” 

You felt sick.

Just then, the door opened again and David entered slowly, almost serenely, carrying two steaming bowls. The smell hit you first – meat. It might’ve been appetizing if you hadn’t just seen the ear.

David walked up to the cages and crouched down, sliding a bowl under each one through the narrow gap beneath the bars. 

Neither of you reached for it. Neither of you moved. 

He followed your gaze – both of you frozen, eyes still locked on the ear beneath the table. And when he saw it, he sighed. 

Not in panic. Not in apology.

In resignation. 

“For what it’s worth,” he said gently, “this is just deer meat. I swear.”

You stared at the bowl and your stomach dropped, suddenly feeling like the bare contents of it might come back up. “Why the fuck would we believe that?” you spat. “For all we know, we’ll end up chopped into little pieces in your next ‘deer meat’ stew.”

He offered a thin smile, unbothered. “I’d rather not do that.” His voice was maddeningly calm. “Please. Just tell me your names.” You and Ellie stared back, unmoved. David spread his hands as if he were the victim here. “Look, if you wanna judge me – ”

“Judge you?” Ellie barked, snapping. “You’re eating people, you sick fuck!” She kicked the tray, sending it clattering across the floor in a spray of oily broth and stringy meat. The stench turned your stomach once more.

David didn’t flinch. “Yes,” he said simply. “There are only a few of us that know.”

“You're an animal,” you muttered, voice low and seething.

He sighed. “Well, yes, we all are. That’s sort of the point.” His eyes met yours again. “It was a last resort. You think it doesn’t shame me? What was I supposed to do – let them starve? These people who put their lives in my hands, who rely on me, who love me?”

You scoffed, the sound hollow in your throat. “Maybe you should’ve.”

His eyes lingered on you. “You don’t believe that,” he said softly. “And I don’t think your friend would either. Didn’t he take another man’s life to save yours?”

Your heart stuttered. Joel’s face flickered in your mind – bloodied, broken, wild-eyed in the snow. You blinked hard.

“He was defending himself,” Ellie snapped.

“He was defending you.” Curiously, he turned back to you again, gaze almost thoughtful. “You knew that… you see a lot. But she…” He nodded at Ellie. “She reminds me of me. A natural leader, smart… loyal. Violent – dangerous. You think you’re keeping her safe, but I see it clear as day. She’s a threat.” 

You stiffened. “You don’t know shit about us.”

“I know more than you think.” His smile curled into something amused, pitying. “You? You’re all bark. Noise and fury. You hide behind others, probably behind your friend. But she? She’s the one with teeth.”

At the look in his eyes, your fists clenched at your sides. “Try to touch her and I’ll – ”

“You’ll what?” he interrupted, eyes gleaming. “Cry? Shout? Throw another empty threat?” 

Without missing a beat, your voice lowered, threateningly. “I’ll chop your fucking dick off,” you growled.

He let out a single laugh, leaning closer to the bars, voice soothing – condescending. “You’re soft. Maternal. You’re wired for protection, not survival. You’ll scream and spit, sure – but you won’t do what needs to be done. When it comes down to it, you’ll freeze. You’ll beg. You’ll break.” 

Your jaw clenched so hard it ached. But something in your chest twisted – not rage. Not yet.

Shame. Because some part of you feared he was right. That when the moment came, you wouldn’t be fast enough. Brutal enough. 

Joel would be. He’d burn the world down.

“No,” David decided, “you’re not the one I’m worried about. You’re not like me.” He turned to Ellie again, smiling. “But she is.”

He stepped up to Ellie’s cage, meeting her eyes. “Yeah,” he hummed. “You have a violent heart. And I should know – I've always had a violent heart. And I struggled with it for a long time. But then the world ended and I was shown the truth.

“Cordyceps isn’t evil. It's fruitful, it multiplies. It feeds and protects its children and it secures its future with violence, if it must. It loves.”

His voice lowered. “I’m a shepherd surrounded by sheep and all I want is an equal. A friend. Someone who understands what it means to do what’s necessary. I can give you a future, Ellie. You, and the people you care about.” He spared you a glance.

“What about our friend?” Ellie asked, voice careful.

“Loyal,” David nodded. “I can tell the others to stop looking for him. They’ll spare him.”

You scoffed bitterly. “They should be praying he doesn’t find them.”

David ignored you entirely. “They do what I tell them to do. They follow me. And they would follow us. Lord knows I could use the help… think of what we could do together as strong as we are. We’d make this place perfect. Grow, spread out, do whatever we need for our people. Imagine the life we could give them. Imagine the life we could build.” 

He reached again, pressing two fingers to the bars of Ellie’s cage. Your breath caught. 

“Get your fucking hands off of her!” you raged, hands white-knuckled around the bars of your own cage, nails digging into the rusted metal. You tried to use all your force to pry them apart, to get in between your sister and the nightmare of a man before her. 

David hummed in enjoyment, pausing his movements for a second. “Look at you. So angry. So scared. All that fire, and nowhere to put it,” he tutted. 

He turned back to Ellie, who hesitated, then rested her fingers over his. Carefully. Lightly. Then they gripped hard, and all you heard was a snap.

David howled, snapping his hand back and cradling it to his chest as Ellie backed away, triumphant.

“You little cunt,” he snarled, taking a look at his mangled fingers as he retreated toward the exit. “Let’s see what I go tell the others now.”

“Ellie,” she smirked.

“What?”

“Tell them that Ellie is the little girl who broke your fucking finger!” she shouted after him.

David turned slowly at the door, seething. His eyes briefly met yours. “How did you put it? Tiny little pieces?”

And then he was gone.

The fire cracked somewhere in the next room. Outside, the wind howled against the walls. Inside, your hands were trembling. 

You didn’t know if it was from fear… or from the way your vision had gone red when he touched her.

The way his fingers slithered through the cage bars, settling on top of Ellie’s like he was comforting a child. Like he hadn’t just implied the vilest things with a preacher’s calm and a butcher’s smile. That hand didn’t shake. It moved with practiced precision. Like he’d done this before. To another child.

And Ellie—God, Ellie—she played along. And when he screamed and recoiled, he glared at her like it was her fault he tried to touch fire and got burned.

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Because in that moment—watching Ellie stand her ground, even in a cage—you felt something shift inside you. Like a lever being pulled. Something old and buried and ruthless unfurling in your chest.

You had always been the calmer one. The caretaker. The one who usually deescalated while someone else did the dirty work. You shot only when you had to.

But this was different.

You had seen men like David before. Heard them call it kindness when they took whatever they wanted. You’d fought them off enough times. But it had never been someone you loved at their mercy.

Until now.

And it clicked – he didn’t see you. Not really. He thought you were weak because your voice trembled when you threatened him. Because you put yourself between him and Ellie like a goddamn shield instead of a weapon. 

He thought Ellie was the fire and you were just the smoke.

But the thing about smoke? It choked. It blinded. It suffocated, slowly.

And he was about to find out you weren’t afraid of something you already knew how to be.

Instinctively, you stepped closer to Ellie. 

You watched her stare out, chest rising and falling rapidly. For a moment, you thought she might collapse from the tension running through her body, but she didn’t. She didn’t move at all.

You reached out for her but stopped yourself at the last second. Ellie was already retreating into herself, expression distant, like she was trying to process something that was too much for her to fully understand at her young age.

“Ellie,” you said, voice low but urgent. “Are you okay?” 

Her eyes flicked toward you, but there was a moment of hesitation before she spoke. The defiance usually lit her up like a Christmas tree, but it was now replaced by something else entirely. Perhaps fear, or shock – or a mix of both.

“I… I didn’t mean to – ” she started, voice trailing off as if she couldn’t figure out a way to finish the sentence.

You knew what she meant.

This was the first time Ellie had truly been forced to confront a kind of danger that wasn’t just physical. The kind of danger that left scars on your soul. The kind you'd tried to shield her from her entire life.

You stepped closer, trying to let your presence be grounding for her. “Ellie,” you said softly, voice steady. “Look at me.” 

When she did, you saw that this was new territory for her. The things she’d faced, the people she’d run from or fought, none of them had been like David.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you assured her, though it felt like an odd thing to say. What had happened wasn’t her fault, but it was something darker than just self-defense. 

Ellie had never had to face a predator like him before, a man who didn’t just want to hurt her physically, but wanted her body for his own. 

You’d always protected her from it. From the men in the QZ who would have taken advantage of her had you not stepped in. You’d kept her hidden, kept her safe, from the ugliest of truths. You’d always known the dangers, but Ellie hadn’t seen them – not fully, not like this.

As she stood there, still silent, hands shaking silent, you watched her come to understand just how dark the world really was.

You couldn’t help but feel a stab of guilt in your chest for not protecting her from this, too. From him.

“Ellie, you’re okay,” you said quietly. “You are gonna be okay. I’m here, alright?” 

Her lips trembled as she nodded, but she didn’t say anything else. The words were stuck in shock, in pain. You could feel the weight of it, like a dark cloud hanging over her head. 

Whatever was left of her innocence was gone.

And all you could do, from your own cage, was hold her gaze in a silent promise to always keep her safe. Even if she had to face this world on her own, you’d be right beside her, every step of the way. 

You barely registered David’s footsteps echoing on the concrete as he returned with his right-hand man. Your hands clenched into trembling fists, wrists still sore from the cage. 

Your thoughts were a pendulum, swinging between cold calculation and rising panic. Your heartbeat sped up, drumming in your ears, as they unlocked both cages, yanking the doors open, and dragged you and Ellie out into the middle of the room.

Ellie bit David’s hand in an attempt at defense.

“Let’s start with her,” he said, shaking out his wrist and nodding at you. “Ellie can watch. Maybe it’ll help her cooperate.”

Your heart stopped.

Ellie’s eyes met yours. Wild. Fierce. Defiant. Shaking her head with a terrified whimper.

David shoved you roughly onto the table, his grip bruising your shoulders. You barely had time to struggle before he raised the cleaver, the blade catching the light. 

“Wait!” Ellie’s voice cracked through the tension, loud enough to make both men freeze for a second. “We’re infected! We’re infected! We got bit. Out hunting. It got her in the leg and it got me here! Look, roll up my sleeve. Look at it – look at it!” 

David hesitated. His grip faltered, and the cleaver thudded onto the table as he reached for her arm. When he saw the mark, confusion darkened his expression.

“I told you,” Ellie sneered, a dry, humourless laugh escaping her. “I’m infected – and now so are you.”

The second-in-command, James, took a step back. “David…” 

“No, no, no. She would’ve turned by now. They both would have. This isn’t real.” 

“It looks pretty fucking real to me,” James pointed, his voice sharper now. 

As they bickered, you met Ellie’s eyes again and motioned, just slightly, toward the cleaver resting by her hand. In the same breath, she grabbed it and buried it in James’s neck.

The sound was wet. Immediate.

You surged forward, slamming your body into David with as much strength as you could muster. His skull cracked against the concrete wall with a sickening thud, giving you just enough time to pull Ellie and bolt out of the room.

You burst through the doors and stumbled into the dining hall that used to be a steakhouse. The booths were overturned, the tables stripped for firewood. Ellie ran to the main doors, finding them all locked, while you sprinted into the kitchen. The smell hit you first – smoke, char, rotting meat.

You grabbed two knives from a butcher block and handed one to her along with a burning log from the spit. It looked like you two were fighting your way out of this one.

The room glowed dim and orange, like it was already in hell. And maybe it was.

David crept through the swinging doors, and Ellie didn’t wait. She hurled the burning log at him. He ducked, but it smashed into the curtain behind him. Fire began tricking upward with eerie slowness, catching the fabric.

The entire wooden structure slowly began to burn.

Smoke filled your lungs with every breath. Your eyes watered. 

“There’s no way out, girls,” he called, a mockery of kindness in his tone. “The doors are locked. And I have the keys.” 

Good, you thought bitterly. You’ll need them – to escape us.

You glanced at Ellie and tilted your head. She nodded before creeping left, and you went right. It was a silent understanding: draw him out, find an opening.

David’s voice echoed between the flames. “Ellie. I know you aren’t infected. No one infected fights this hard to stay alive.”

The fire crackled, eating up the wooden beams along the far wall. The heat made your skin slick with sweat.

“No one likes being humiliated,” he continued, voice raising. “You don’t know how good I am! You don’t know what I could’ve given you – if you just let me…”

The sound of his words turned your stomach.

“Well, I have news for you. Neither one of us is dying today. You see, I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided you do need a father. So I’m gonna keep you, and I’m gonna teach you… Ellie. Ellie,” he sang, twisting her name into something grotesque; and it made you rage.

“She already has a dad, you fucking creep!” you roared, seeing nothing but red as you launched yourself at him, swinging your knife. It slashed across his ribs, the tip biting deep. He gasped, staggered, but he was quick to dodge your next attack, twisting and knocking you to the ground. 

“You fucking bitch,” he spat, blood bubbling at his lips. He kicked you hard in the side.

Something cracked.

The pain was blinding.

You choked on air as Ellie screamed and launched at him. She stabbed him in the back, just missing his lungs. He hesitated but was able to spin and throw her off.

Ellie hit the floor with a hard grunt, skidding across broken glass. David turned to you again, a sneer on his face, and kicked you once more – directly where he’d likely already broken a rib. You screamed in agony. 

"I'll deal with you later,” he muttered, “Don't you worry."

Then, he turned to Ellie.

Your mind went dark with horror as he straddled her, pinning her limbs, pressing his weight down while she squirmed and screamed beneath him.

"I thought you knew... the fighting is my favorite part." 

And just when you thought you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, those words lit a fire deep in your gut and something in you snapped.

"Don't be afraid. There's no fear in love,” David hummed.

You forced yourself upright, coughing, choking on smoke, but you couldn’t stop. Your vision tunneled. The pain didn’t matter. You saw his hand at his waistband, going to unbutton his pants, and that was it.

You screamed as you charged at him, no hesitation – just motion. It was instinct at this point, survival, rage in its rawest form. You tackled him off of her, the full weight of your body crashing into his side and sending both of you skidding across the burning floor. 

He snarled, scrambling back to his feet, but you were faster. You rammed your body into his once more, mounting him, and started swinging with a force you didn’t realize you had. Your fists met his face over and over again – bone, teeth, soft flesh. 

Again. Again. Again.

You felt your knuckles split and you didn't stop even then.

Blood gushed from his nose, his mouth. It smeared across your hands, sticky and hot and endless. You didn’t even feel your wounds anymore.

You grabbed the cleaver he’d tossed aside with shaking hands. He tried to crawl away, like the fucking coward he was, but you were on him. You slashed at his chest, once, twice, and when he kicked out to throw you off, you slammed the heel of your boot down on his ankle until you heard a crunch.

“You wanted violent?” you growled, dragging him by the collar back into the center of the room. The fire crept closer now, the heat unbearable, smoke curling into your lungs, but you didn’t care. 

You weren’t done.

You were nowhere near done.

David spat blood, struggling to speak through his broken mouth. “You don’t… have to do this…” 

“I think the fighting might be my favorite part, too,” you snarled, flipping the cleaver in your hand. You crouched over him, dragging the blade slowly, deliberately, up his thigh. He screamed. “You said I was too soft… That I’d freeze.” 

You pressed the blade to his groin and leaned in close. “You said I’d beg.” 

He whimpered. You pressed harder. 

“But I think you're gonna be the one who begs... So beg.” 

He looked up at you, wild-eyed and panting, terror finally eclipsing that smug certainty. “Please,” he sobbed. “Please – don’t – ”

“Louder.” 

“Please! Please don’t – ”

You did it anyway.

You screamed through your teeth as you brought the blade down and castrated him with a sickening, wet slice. His cries didn’t even sound human. They sounded like an animal – fitting.

The cleaver slipped in your hand, his blood warm and thick and coating everything, and still you kept going.

You stabbed. You cut. With each slice, you felt like you were becoming something else—something feral and unrecognizable—and you didn’t even realize when his screams stopped. It wasn’t until Ellie’s hand landed on your shoulder that you stopped to register the carnage.

David was unrecognizable. The fire’s glow cast grotesque shadows across what remained of his face and torso. Your hands were shaking. Your whole body was shaking.

You let the cleaver fall from your grasp and stumbled back, chest heaving.

You were soaked in blood. His. Yours. You didn’t even know anymore.

Ellie was staring at you, eyes small and scared, like she wasn’t sure what you would do next.

You didn’t know either.

You stood, grabbing her hand, and she flinched, just barely. You felt like you might vomit again.

But there was no time.

The fire was spreading fast.

You pulled Ellie to her feet and ran, staggering out into the snow, coughing and gasping for breath. The freezing air stung your lungs, and you welcomed it. Anything to feel clean again. Anything to feel human.

You fell to your knees and retched into the snow, the bile bitter and hot in your throat.

When Ellie screamed again, you lurched to your feet, heart in your throat—body instantly going into fight or flight mode once more—only to see Joel wrapping her up in his arms.

"It's me. Hey, it's me," he kept softly whispering, and Ellie finally stopped squirming and clung to him, sobbing. "It's okay, baby girl."

Your knees buckled, body shaking at the sound of his voice.

Joel turned to you, outstretching his right arm. You instantly fell into him. His arms were strong and shaking. He buried his face in your matted hair, promising, "I got you. I got you both. You’re okay. You’re safe.” 

But you weren’t okay.

Not really.

You were still shaking. Shellshocked. Silent.

Looking down at Ellie, you weren’t sure what scared you more – what almost happened to her… or what you just found out you were capable of.

.

.

.

taglist: @orcasoul @lizlil @littleshadow17 @joeldjarin @mrsyixingunicorn10 @luvwanda @escaping-reality8 @hoddystark @mmkkzz @victoriaholland @xodilfluvr @ilovetoomanymen @21tao @mystickittytaco @keileighr @buckyandlokirunmylife @deesparticus @underchaos @keepingitlokiii @silas-aeiou @underchaos @tjohn63 @princess76179 @umadirectioner

[musicismymoirail]

Resketched and colored some of the silly doodles from yesterday, and added in an old doodle of Elsie and Sunshine because Sunshine (massive centipede) is cute. 🥰

Part of me likes Sunshine matching Elsie’s color scheme, but they’re supposed to be like a celestial patron so maybe a golden sky color scheme would be better?? Maybe??

[age-of-moonknight]

Variant cover for Avengers (Vol. 9/2023), #7 by Marcos Martin.

[solar-eclipsed]

Oh yeah I watched the II remaster and I don’t mind it at all it’s pretty good LOLLL. I just have three prayers. Keep everyone mean as fuck. Keep Balloon’s manipulation so bad that it’s genuinely ridiculous how petty these freaks are. And please bring more of Salt and Pepper’s homoerotic codependent friendship I missed them so bad

[presidentofthelipglossclub]

no bc deadass the rescue bots are straight up mean as hell. like, they arent evil or immoral they’re just rude. to the point where they’re meaner than the decepticons ok like megatron kept avoiding actually gettind rid of starscream despite the constant murder attempts but heatwave was willing to get rid of two of the other bots (blades after he abandoned a rescue bc of an avalanche and blurr bc blurr). heatwave is more ruthless than megatron which is so damn funny. blades keeps insulting people for no good reason (sometimes it makes sense but like quickshadow’s accent and how she talks made him so upset). chase is harder to see but he’s willing to do anything to follow the rules and he tends to repeatedly bring up other people’s issues (i dont think i have to explain but like example is little white lies. that whole episode). boulder is very sweet most of the time but the instant heatwave gets in on it he does too. multiple times in the show this has happened (off the top of my head when blades got the scoop claw hw and boulder were laughing at him and when hw made fun of blades boulder laughed, also heatwave was saying blurr was super annoying and boulder agreed).

to be clear this is a good thing. i wanna see more complex characters who are still fundamentally good people!! you can be callous, have low empathy, be egotistical, get angry, make fun of ur friends and still make good choices and still help people. you at your worst and you at your best are still both you, but your worst being bad doesn’t mean your best isn’t good. especially because morality wise the rescue bots are the best people. i mean, they aren’t war criminals (or regular criminals), they don’t physically harm others, they don’t put others at risk (at least not intentionally), and they literally had to pretend to be actual machines while risking their lives every day. these people who treated them as essentially slaves were who they had to protect. and they did it, over and over again, without hesitation. and i think they deserve to be a bit rude for that, and because their meanness comes from caring. if they didn’t care they wouldn’t bother to speak up and be heard, even if it’s in a disrespectful way. but they do.

anyways idk rescue bots brainrot and the concept of a fundamentally good society have been eating away at me.

[itspileofgoodthings]

The confession of love scene and the immediate aftermath in Hometown C. is perfectly written and acted. 10/10 no notes.

[mothusingtheinternet]

I wanna know what character trope y’all go insane for. It can be anything. Just put it in the tags.

[trekkele]

5 headcanons game: Kori as Bruce's daughter in law? 👀

- wander

1. Bruce is unsure about Kori in the beginning (shes so strong and powerful and he knows nothing about her!! Thats his baby she’s dating!!) but he promised himself he wouldn’t interfere with Dick’s team and he will not check her files without permission, he is holding himself back by the cape collar. He is unflinchingly polite to her, which makes Dick very uncomfortable.

(Bruce is rude. He is. Its how you know he trusts you.)

2. He doesnt know anything about her family until he asks Dick if she’d like to join them for Chanukah, and if there are any tamaranian holidays he’ll be joining her for. The conversation ends up goiing something like:

Dick: well considering her family are the ones that sold her into slavery i think she’ll be fine celebrating on - did you just snap the keyboard in half???

Bruce: is she allergic to wool and would she like a chanukah sweater? Nevermind, i’ll make her gloves and a sweater. I have blue cashmere yarn somewhere around here -

3. In the comics there are protests around alien-human marriages, and i think Bruce very publicly hires Kori to be the Wayne Enterprises spokesperson for one of their more popular divisions as a way of making his position clear. (I also think WE has a program for alien refugees on earth)

4. Kori has absolutely no problem calling Bruce out when he’s being particularly bad at communicating. Bruce appreciates it a lot, actually, and he finds himself calling her to chat when he knows he’s about to say something stupid.

5. Kori knows Bruce is desperate to make her feel comfortable in the manor, because if she’s comfortable Dick will come around more often, and she has no problem using that to her advantage. Donna doesn’t know why they go shopping in Gotham so often, but she isn’t complaining.

She also has no idea why Kori and Batman spar so often, but once again, not complaining. Watching Batman lose is very satisfying.

[running2reanimation]

Would you mind fanfic of your DND au?

it's ok if not

- @styck-figure

I wouldn’t mind at all! I’d be delighted, in fact!

[secondpersonpoetry]

ellen bass, “marriage”

[maxgicalgirl]

The OIAR staff are all in a polycule okay I don’t make the rules !!!!

[lunaelume-n]

want to know where the hannibal fans are that have an ugly past, that can’t always relate to knowing they’re really a good person inside. want to know where the hannibal fans are that struggle with terribly intrusive thoughts, that have acted immorally and have been genuinely unsafe or unhealthy for others, even others who were innocent. want to know where the hannibal fans are that grew up deeply questioning everything about reality to a disturbing level, and how isolating that felt. fans that struggle with feeling very angry and hurt, or just feeling their feelings all the time. if not feeling, analyzing everything, all the time. the fans that can’t always relate to being the victim of the story, but the person who’s done harm too. want to know where the hannibal fans are at that have genuinely wondered if something is severely wrong with them, and not because of their admiration for the show, but because of the ways they’ve behaved, things they’ve thought or said, interests they’ve had, but also because you grew up feeling less included than you’d like, so you just feel more odd than most, maybe even doomed sometimes. this show is a helpful tool in observing myself more objectively, and i appreciate that because i’ve been able to learn when to step back and let go, on top of applying other coping mechanisms i have. i do feel isolated in this fandom sometimes because while i know i am not my past and my mistakes or my struggles, i see many people online that i feel might not have strayed too far the way that i have, and while i have a general grasp on reality and morals, and i’d never intentionally act out of line with those morals now in my life, i have in the past, and i’ve been wrong, unsafe, and cruel. i’ve been able to reflect on myself and grow, so there’s comfort in that, but there’s still also the worry of “what if i am alone in this?” knowing how unlikely that is, given how many people are in the world.

[vi-sigoth]

Since you guys enjoyed our collaborative effort, SONGS TO KICK SOMEONE’S ASS TO, I thought I’d share my current playlist in progress, Female Fronted Metal. I’m going back and reliving my little tomboy goth metalhead high school days and re-listening to After Forever, Delain, Epica, Lacuna Coil, Nightwish, and Within Temptation (and in some cases, this is new listening; I lost track of Epica and WT after about 2012-ish) and adding my favorite tracks into one playlist. Check it out if you’re into any of these bands. Next on the docket is Delain’s Dark Waters (curious to see how they’re doing without Charlotte) Epica’s The Holographic Principal, Lacuna Coil’s Dark Adrenaline, Nightwish’s Dark Passion Play (which was my all time favorite album for about a decade) and Within Temptation’s Resist.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Mattresses, unbeknownst to many, are a lot like cars. Every year new ones roll out, they’re always tweaking and innovating and you’ll never find the same one you loved decades ago when buying a new one.

Where I sold mattresses had a three month return or exchange program for this reason. New beds take a while to break in, and they’re a big expense. Your body is used to the old one. So we made sure people were loving it. If a bed got returned we’d take it back, sanitize and clean it, then sell it again on clearance.

To sell these we always had to disclose what clearance meant to customers, and they had to sign that they knew what they were getting. (FYI, not every company is as… forthright about the used bed situation)

In clearance we had beds that were floor models, we had returns, and more rarely we had old models whose line had been discontinued. These clearance beds were always final sale, so a bed could only be sold twice.

Now, the manager at the store I was working at had realized a vital fact. Clearance beds in the warehouse didn’t sell, especially old models that salespeople weren’t familiar with. And even more especially in odd sizes, like twin extra longs. So he set up a split king on the showroom floor to exhibit clearance beds, pulling all those forgotten twin extra longs out onto the showroom.

Almost all of these were brand new discontinued models. Beds I’d never learned in training were exhumed to be displayed. The manufacturers had moved on to new lines and they’d been left behind. Why would he take such in interest in selling old stock, you might wonder? Because we made double commission on the sales margin of clearance beds, and if we’d had a bed long enough they dropped the cost in the system so it was a fucking cash cow to sell these. Even with huge discounts the commissions were wonderful so it was a win win.

When I got started I was jazzed about this program, I was so on board to sell weird old brand new beds and make a ton of money. I had a wonderful older couple come in, looking for a split king adjustable set. This was a white whale sale.

The current clearance models on the floor were a latex mattress that was brand new despite being of an age to start first grade, and a tempurpedic floor model. The couple laid down and it was like magic. They each loved the bed they’d laid down on. They wanted to buy the whole shebang.

I. Was. Thrilled. I told them about the clearance program and what that meant, and they weren’t bothered in the least. I wrote up the sale then dashed into the back, fizzing with excitement to tell my manager what I’d done.

“You sold the death bed?!” He asked in delight.

I pulled up short, my smile freezing in place. “What…?”

“Didn’t you check the notes?”

I hesitated for a long beat then slowly shook my head. You see, dear reader, all beds had a personal history. Every clearance bed had logs written up by the person who took the return, as well as warehouse crew after sanitizing. It helped us know what to expect when selling them. “Wasn’t it just a floor model? You said it was a floor model…”

He slowly shook his head. I checked the notes.

It turned out, it had been sold as a floor model. The first time. But the company had made an exception and taken it back as a return two months later. Why? Because it’s owner had passed away.

I stared at the computer in horror and my manager shrugged. “They signed the clearance form. Technically it was a floor model.”

“We know for a fact that a man died in that bed!”

“What they don’t know can’t haunt them,” he said philosophically.

The man came back a week later for more sheets, utterly delighted to tell me how well they were sleeping. I clamped my teeth down around the secret of the deathbed, choosing to let them love their new bed without the stigma. Only one person would be haunted by that deathbed, and it was me.

[kitten4sannie]

ᴄᴀꜱᴛɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴜᴄʜ

ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ/ᴄʀᴇᴀᴍᴘɪᴇ ➠ ꜱᴀɴ

pairing: frat boy! san x fem! reader feat. yungi

genre: frat au, smut

summary: san and his boys are more than grateful when you help them with their newest ‘feature film.’

w.c: 3k

warnings: they’re making porn okay, nasty mean dom! san, subby aloof! reader, san knowingly takes advantage of reader’s romantic feelings for him…. (bro’s the king of douchebags), manipulation/corruption, reader is treated like a fuck doll <3, brief implied mxm bc i love fruity frat boys uwu, praise/false praise, name calling/degradation, major voyeurism/exhibitionism kink, mind break ig?, dp in one hole, oral (giving), brief hair pulling, throat-fucking, tit fucking, facial, rough sex, bulge kink, breeding kink, dacryphilia, gang bang !!, it’s all unprotected btw, multiple orgasms, creampies <33

a/n: this is so fucking insane you guys….like idk why frat aus have me in such a chokehold but here we are🧍🏻‍♀️also this is totally random (and essential) info but san’s signature frat party look would be a ‘don’t hate me it turns me on’ shirt and a backwards red cap hwjhw anyways happy reading~ and please lemme know if you liked it uwu

p.s: we’re at 6.5k followers HELLO???? that’s insane 🫣 thank you so very much!!!

song rec: i like the way you kiss me - artemas (✨ male manipulation: the song ✨)

ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

“Smile for the camera, pretty girl,” San, the frat boy you’ve been in love with for ages, encouraged you from behind the lens of the camcorder he was holding, his smooth baritone voice like saccharine, artificial, yet sweet enough to keep you coming back for another taste. It was when you offered him a small, shy smile through the camera lense, despite the shamelessness of your current position, that he knew he had struck gold. 

San was filming one of the first of many future encounters you would be having on the expansive black leather couch inside their crowded frat den. You were stuffed to the absolute brim by two of his closest colleagues, Yunho and Mingi, who always refused to participate unless they were working together as a duo. 

“Stop looking at me like that, dude,” Mingi huffed up at Yunho from below the both of you, his shoulders and back routinely getting stuck to the couch with sweat. 

“Like what?” Yunho scoffed back, leaning further down onto your body to get closer to Mingi, essentially folding you in half, his hands closing around your ankles.

“Like you wanna kiss me. You’re gonna make me soft.” Mingi grimaced, pushing Yunho’s hands out of the way to hold onto your ankles instead, driving himself into you like a well oiled machine. He was throbbing nonstop, but there was absolutely no proof that it was because of his friend’s heavy cock rubbing along his inside the cunt they were sharing. 

Yunho’s breath hit your shoulder when he laughed. “Skill issue,” Yunho simply replied, delighted that Mingi bucked up into you even harder, encouraging him to do the same. 

Clearly, there was something vaguely homoerotic going on there, but it wasn’t San’s business, and he definitely had better things to focus on — you, his newest pupil. He watched you with dollar signs in his bright brown eyes and the taste of cheap vodka on his tongue, unable to keep himself from licking repeatedly at his chapped lips, especially now that the innocent classmate he had recently taken a liking to had no problem taking two cocks at once inside her puffy, used cunt, while he, his bros, and his trusty camcorder had a front row seat to her mutually beneficial destruction.  

“Look at you, so flexible…Are you sure you haven’t done this before, Y/N?” San teased, lowering the camera down until his sharp feline eyes were visible.

“N-no, I swear!” you squeaked out, the growing embarrassment you felt only spurring all of this newfound pleasure you were drunk on. “Just wanna, nnngh–be good for you…”

“Oh, that’s right. Silly me. You’re being a very good girl right now, baby, Don’t worry.” San couldn’t help but smile at the way you seemed to melt in front of him. It was just too easy. He glanced down at the camera, zooming in and capturing the moment his friends filled you up with their hot loads, the bliss evident on your fucked-out face. “That’s it, baby. Are you happy you stuck around here with us instead of going back to your dorm to do homework? Taking cock is much more fun, isn’t it, beautiful?” 

“So much more fun,” you sighed out, your pupils blown out just from looking at his devastatingly handsome face. It was then that you pouted. You were only here because you were in love with San, and yet, it wasn’t even his dick inside you. It wasn’t fair. “But, I’d have even more fun with you, Sannie~” 

“Is that so…?” San offered a brief shit-eating smirk to one of his boys nearby, reaching down to grab at himself through his sweatpants like he was weighing it. “It’s right here, baby. Why don’t you show us what that pretty mouth can do?” 

Both Mingi and Yunho slowed down their thrusts, but didn’t completely pull out, choosing to leisurely fuck their cum back into you, as they fought to catch their breath.

“What a loser, cumming first like that,” Mingi insulted Yunho, licking at the saliva left on his lips. 

“Your mom doesn’t have a problem with it,” Yunho chided back, reaching down past your body to smack his hand into the side of Mingi’s ass. 

“Goddamn it, you guys, I’m gonna have to edit that gay shit out.” San brought a hand up to scratch at his head in frustration. “You know what, both of you, get out of my shot and sword fight somewhere else. I’m not doing this right now,” San grumbled, shooing the two panting men away from the couch they had just made a mess on. 

“Bro acts like we don’t know about his late night tutoring sessions with Wooyoung,” Yunho whispered to Mingi, trying to stifle his laughter. 

Mingi almost choked on his breath. “Don’t forget Yeosang. San doesn’t even take physics anymore, either. Yet, he still visits that nerd every Friday like clockwork.” 

“Dude, aren’t they roommates?” Yunho cupped his hand around the side of his mouth, still using a hushed tone, “Do you think they run a train on–”

“Hey! Don’t make me haze the two of you again just for fun…” San warned from the center of the room, glaring daggers at the two men who went quiet almost immediately. His annoyance abruptly melted away once you gingerly reached up to pull his sweatpants down until the frat emblem that was stitched into the thigh pocket was no longer visible. It was when San smacked his heavy length down onto your face, that you let out a pornstar worthy moan. Cha-ching. “Oh, you like that? Hm? Want my cock?”   

“Mm-hmm…” San’s cock slapped down onto your face a second time. You quickly squeezed your thighs together to keep yourself from cumming right then and there, biting back a moan all the while. You wondered if it was obvious how truly desperate you were for the man standing above. Fuck it. You were already here, so you might as well get what you came for. “Please, give it to me, Sannie, f-fuck my mouth.” 

San could not believe his luck. His loyal fanbase would absolutely have a field day with this as soon as he uploaded it. He could already see the cash flowing in, and it made him rock hard. He sighed happily to himself, running his fingers through your hair, carefully tucking a few strands behind your ear. “It’s really true what they say…the shy ones are always the most slutty.”  

*“I’m not a slut, I just–” you cut yourself off, not wanting to confess to San right before you were about to suck him off in front of his fraternity and whichever degenerate that would be watching it back later on. You pouted again, looking up at him with wide, sparkly eyes. “I want to be useful to you, like a doll~”  

“Did you hear that, everyone? Y/N here is a real life fuck doll. Let’s treat her as such,” San reminded his friends and housemates who couldn’t help but hover around the couch, a few of them sharing knowing smiles with one another. 

Your heart began to thump away inside your chest, unable to believe that your long-time crush was giving you so much of his attention and affection. It was like a dream come true. As soon as your lips parted to take in a shaky breath, San tightened his grip around your hair, yanking you forward and stuffing your mouth full of cock. “Mmnnf…!” 

Clutching the camera with one hand and the makeshift ponytail he created near the back of your head, San began thrusting sloppily into your open mouth, groaning at the slick sensation of your throat routinely closing around his moving cockhead. “Come on, doll, let me in, yeah? So Sannie can fuck your throat raw.” 

San wasn’t lying. With each wet, rough thrust, he got closer and closer to doing what he promised you. “Mmmn…nnn…” You couldn’t tell if the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes were the result of San’s dizzying performance or the burning arousal you felt stirring inside your core simply from being watched by a room full of men you didn’t know. 

“Aww, crying already, princess? I’ll give you something to really cry about when I’m breeding that slutty cunt of yours,” San chuckled darkly, his strong hips snapping relentlessly, his pace only beginning to falter once he saw your drool mixed with his pre-cum escaping past your chin and dripping down in between your tits, leaving your soiled skin with a shiny complexion. You looked like a true whore. It was going to make the frat leader bust any second. The borderline obsessive look you had inside your teary eyes didn’t help either. “Fuck, oh my god– Somebody take the goddamn camera!” 

The youngest of the group fumbled to grab the camera, using his jacket sleeve to rub off the fingerprints he left behind on the lens, before lifting it up, capturing the exact moment San pulled out of your mouth with a loud ‘pop’ and slid his cock along in between your glistening tits. 

San turned to face the camera for a second, dimples flashing, squishing your tits in between his thick fingers as he fucked them. “See, you guys? This is how you use a doll to her maximum potential,” he explained as though he were a professor on their campus. “Just look at her face. She fuckin’ loves it.” 

Instead of trying to focus on the camera, you gazed directly up at him, your cheeks warm to the touch, still love-struck, even when San’s load landed all over your face. You simply licked away what had landed on your lips, sucking the rest off the frat leader’s fingers once he so lovingly fed it to you. 

San nodded his head in approval, patting yours in an effort to reward you for your hard work. “That’s a good girl…” He tilted his head to the side. “I wanna see what else our pretty doll can do. Sound good?” 

“Really good,” you chimed, licking at your swollen lips, savoring San’s salty essence. 

Wedding bells were ringing in the distance. You would do anything for San, and if that meant letting him treat you like an onahole and fuck you in any position he saw fit for the next hour, then you would happily oblige. By the time your knees gave out from cumming for the nth time, San had you in a full nelson in the middle of the couch, positioned behind you with his arms locked around your upper half, making sure your used body was on complete display. 

“Sannie…gonna…cum…again,” you breathed out in between a few airy moans, your head feeling so heavy that you just let it hang for a second. 

San repositioned himself so that he could clutch your chin, tilting it upwards. His free hand snaked around your waist, laying his palm flat on your tummy, suddenly driving his cock up into you so hard, you couldn’t even speak if you wanted to. “Hey, be a good slut and let them see what you look like when you’re cumming your brains out.” 

You obediently gazed up at the blurry camera past your wet lashes, that is, until your eyes rolled back into your skull, only able to let out a choked gasp as you barreled over the edge of ecstasy. You didn’t have a chance to recover from the overwhelming pleasure, especially not when San pressed his hand down firmly onto the bulge his cock was routinely making inside your stomach. “P-please..! Sannie..!” 

You want another load? Fuck, baby.” Groaning, San took a second to lick one of the tears that was rolling along your cheek before it dropped, his hips slamming against yours so quick, you were already developing bruises, ones that would accompany the bright red love bites scattered across your slick skin. He pressed his lips directly to your ear, nibbling on your earlobe. “You know, seeing you in class and on campus, putting on that innocent virgin act, I never would’ve pegged you for a cock hungry little slut, but everyone enjoys a good surprise every now and then…don’t they?”

“Yes–yes, yes, yes,” you chanted back, too cockdrunk to even fully process what San was saying, just focused on how full you felt, and how you needed more. 

“Good, because I got a surprise for you too.” Grunting loudly, San lowered his hips and slammed them up into you one last time, holding your trembling body still, painting your pulsing walls white. “Now, say ‘thank you, Sannie.’”

“Thank you, Sannie.” You leaned your head back to nuzzle the side of his cheek, placing your hands over his, feeling him rubbing your lower stomach in small circles, his cock still fully sheathed inside you. 

“Anytime, sugar.” San gave your hair a few strokes as a reward, before pulling out and climbing off of the couch. He took the camera back from the new guy and snapped his fingers at a few of the bricked up housemates standing nearby, pointing in your direction. “Now, show me what you’re really made of.” San gave you a charming, dimpled smile. “Make me proud, okay?” 

As an eager group of half-naked strangers surrounded you on all sides of the couch, some of them reaching out to grope your warm body, you returned San’s smile, your heart skipping a beat or two. “I’ll give it my best just for you~” 

Throughout the night, San, alongside his fraternity, conditioned you with care, meticulously molding you into their prime playtoy, one they enthusiastically passed around, easily making your tape one of the longest in their exclusive film collection. It wasn’t difficult, by any means. You were, of course, the perfect specimen: passive, pliant, and poisoned by the oxytocin that turned your brain into mush. You were a star.

Even when you were being used by more men than you could count, you couldn’t keep your attention off of Sannie, his handsome face only growing blurry when someone would make you gag on their cock, as you didn’t have the most experience with men of their size. You wanted San to yourself again, desperately wishing you could reach out for him instead of another stranger’s twitching erection — but you endured it all, falling further into the rabbit hole of pleasure for the sake of your whirlwind infatuation. 

Everyone in the frat house deeply appreciated your dedication to their amateur film, especially San, who, by the end of it, secured the perfect spot to capture the finality of your desecration. Two of his older friends had just finished inside you, their spent cocks slipping out of your gaping hole and revealing the sticky mess they left behind.

Crouched down in front of the couch, San reached out past the camcorder to spread your puffy lips apart, each and every load you took over the past few hours now slowly spilling out onto his veined hand. “Look at this pretty cunt, you guys…so full of cum, it won’t stop coming out…” He panned up to your face with the camera, giving you a wicked smile from behind it. “You’ll be pregnant in no time, won’t you, doll? With whose baby, I wonder…”

After all that, you somehow managed to act shy, covering your flushed face, giving San heart eyes past your cum-stained, trembling fingers. “Hopefully yours…” 

“Oh, princess.” San gently rubbed his fingers over your sore cunt and clit, his friends’ loads still dribbling out of you all the while. “I don’t think you realize how cute you’re being right now~ Almost like you didn’t just slut yourself out for everyone to see, huh? Mm, do you feel cute, Y/N?” San asked in a babying tone, as he slowly stood up and towered over you. 

“You make me feel cute…” You nuzzled your cheek into the palm of San’s warm hand once he offered it to you, hoping you secured a spot inside his heart after all the hard work you put in. “I would keep going for you if I could still feel my legs.” 

“Aww, there’s always next time, isn’t there?” he suggested slyly, rubbing away some leftover cum from your cheek before caressing the side of your face. “Do you have anything to say to our loyal fanbase, baby?” 

“I love cock, especially yours, Sannie,” you slurred lovingly up at San, through the camera lens, licking your lips, mouth watering at the thought of being invited again to film another movie. “So give me a call, okay?” 

“Oh, I will, believe me.” A smug laugh erupted from San’s puffed-out chest, as he aimed the camera at his pretty boy face for a second to announce, “Gentlemen, we’ve officially turned another good girl into a filthy fuckhole. If you’d like to watch the transformation happen in real time, feel free to stop by our frat. For a good price, we’ll even let some of you bastards have a go.” And with that, he shut the camcorder off and pushed it into the youngest member’s chest, who looked at him with wide eyes. “Fuck it, we might even give you a turn.” 

The freshman choked on his spit. “R-really?” 

“I’m feeling nice today.” San sighed, running his fingers through his sweaty bangs to fix them. When the young man just stood there drooling, the frat leader grimaced. “Upload this to all our sites ASAP, and don’t forget about our twitter page this time,” he demanded, rolling his eyes when he saw the cum stains the embarrassed student left behind on his pants. “And, for fuck’s sake, will you take care of that?” 

As another member brought a can of beer over to San, the frat leader took it and cracked it open. “Can you believe that guy? He’s been here for, what, a month now? And he’s still creaming his pants like a virgin? Unbelievable.”

As you gingerly put your clothes back on, you watched San move around the frat to dab up his friends and clink their beer cans together in celebration of another successful shoot. You couldn’t help but let out a long, lovesick sigh. He would be yours one day. Until then, you would take what you could get, and of course, become a star. 

fff taglist: @yutasbutterfly02 @wisejudgedragonhairdo @dawn-iscozy @bbdeongi @multistanbaby @crazyf0rm @kittenfrostt @magicshop1913 @enbysforhongjoong @londonbridges01 @mingisdimple @motherseonghwa23 @wwooyology @everyonewooeverywhere @leo-seonghwa @yourfatherlucifer @hwallazia @vampzity

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[dismalflo]

all the reasons we're not in love

James potter x fem!reader ✩ 4.6k words

summary: You and James are best fucking friends—nothing more, nothing less. So why does everyone act like you're secretly in love, like it's some kind of undeniable fact?

cw: fluff, a pinch of angst, steamy makeout but no smut, best friends to lovers, idiots in love.

James gets up from the booth and leans down to ruffle your hair just because he knows it’ll annoy you. All sat around a too small booth in the back of the pub with a few chairs pulled up to accommodate the large group. It’s James' turn to buy a round, and you make a show of swatting his hand away as he goes, tracking his movements all the way to the bar. 

You have a second to take in the dingy lights and the rowdy regulars in the local before Lily scares you half to death, leaning into your field of view. Eyes alight with mischief and an impish smile on her lip.

“So…” she says, dragging out the vowel, “what's going on?”

“What's going on with what?” you laugh, confused but delighted by Lily after a few drinks. 

“You and James!” she practically squeals, shaking your arm with gleeful energy. “You’ve been giggling like schoolkids all night. He had his arm around you! Just admit it already—you like each other.”

You groan. “Lils, we always do that.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically, clearly fed up with your refusal to see what she sees. And you? You’re fed up with everyone constantly implying that you and James must fancy each other. As if friendship isn’t enough.

“James and I are friends. That’s—”

“Best fucking friends,” James announces cheerfully, appearing out of nowhere and sliding your drink in front of you before placing the rest in the middle of the table.

“Exactly! Thank you,” you say, gesturing to him like he’s just proved your point.

Lily exhales sharply, throwing you a meaningful look before turning back to the group.

James sinks back into the booth beside you, draping an arm casually along the backrest behind your shoulders

“Try this,” he says, nudging his glass toward you. He’s been working his way through the list of ridiculous specialty mocktails on the menu and insists you sample every one. “It’s strawberry… something. You’ll like it.”

You take a sip. He’s right, obviously—it’s sweet and bright and tastes like summer. You smile up at him, pleased. “That’s really good. I’m getting one next round.”

He grins, radiant. “You can have that one, angel.”

You try to push the glass back, but he doesn’t let you. He’s about to insist again—mouth open, eyes soft—when a familiar voice cuts in.

“Why don’t you share your drinks like that with me, Moony?” Sirius whines from across the table, looking genuinely offended.

Remus sighs—meaning to sound exasperated, probably—but the fond look he gives his boyfriend tells a different story.

“We’ve been drinking the same thing all night, that’s why,” he replies, a smile starting to bloom on his lips. “And…” He glances your way with a teasing glint in his eye. “We’re not an old married couple like them.”

“Yeah,” Sirius mutters, barely above a breath, like it's a tragedy, “good thing they’re both fit.”

You let out a loud laugh. “We’re friends—”

“Best fucking friends.”

“—Not an old married couple. And honestly, you can’t say anything, Remus ‘Knitwear’ Lupin.”

“She’s not wrong,” James says with a quiet chuckle, sliding his hand to your back, fingers moving in lazy, absent-minded circles.

Remus only laughs, shaking his head, while Sirius looks scandalized—utterly betrayed on his boyfriend’s behalf.

“I like Rem’s knitwear, Trouble,” Sirius says, fixing you with a glare that would be more effective if his cheeks weren’t flushed from the drinks. “And I’d be very careful, or I’ll convince him to stop knitting your presents. Then all you’ll get are boring gift cards.” He nods solemnly, clearly impressed with his own threat.

You gasp dramatically, hand to your chest like he’s wounded you. “You wouldn’t.”

Sirius just giggles in response—giggles, which is never a good sign—so you turn to Remus, eyes wide, appealing.

“You wouldn’t let him, would you? You’ll still knit me things, Rem?”

Remus chuckles, shaking his head with a smile that promises yes, always.

That’s when you notice James—usually the loudest one at the table—has gone quiet. You turn toward him, curious, and catch the way he’s watching you. Soft eyes. That funny little smile he only wears when he thinks no one’s looking.

“You okay?” you ask, voice gentling with concern.

The question seems to pull him out of whatever haze he was in. His grin returns, bright and easy, like it never left.

“I’m great, angel.” He leans in, dropping his voice so only you can hear. “If Moony stopped knitting for you... I’d learn how to.”

You blink at him. “You? Knitting?”

He nods solemnly, one hand still warm against your back, and raises the other as if swearing an oath. “I’d do it for you. Even if it meant stabbing myself with the needles every five minutes. That’s how committed I am.”

You laugh, unable to help yourself. “You’re so dramatic.”

You’re laughing, and your cheeks are warm, and James is still looking at you like you’ve hung the stars—but you brush it off like you always do.

Because this is what you and James do. Banter, teasing, little smiles no one else gets—your own language that you’ve been speaking fluently for years. It’s not new. It doesn’t mean anything.

He nudges your knee with his own, still grinning like he’s won something. Like your laugh is enough.

And maybe it is. Maybe it always has been.

But then Lily shoots you another look across the table, all smug eyebrows and that annoying “I told you so” glint in her eye, and it hits you again like it always does—this sudden awareness of how everyone else sees you. You and James. As if it’s already written somewhere, carved into the stars or tucked between the pages of your shared history.

You take a sip of the strawberry-whatever to stall, trying not to frown. Because the truth is, you know how this looks from the outside. All the little things he does, the way you lean into him without thinking, the endless inside jokes—it paints a picture. A certain type of story.

Because he’s James. And you’re... you.

And no matter how many times Sirius winks or Mary raises a knowing brow or Lily insists you're in love, you don’t think there’s a universe where you and James actually get together. Not really.

You’re best friends. That’s it.

And maybe there’s something sacred in that. Something worth protecting.

Besides—he doesn’t fancy you. Not like that. And you certainly don’t fancy him. No matter how charming he is. Or how warm his laugh makes you feel. Or how he always saves you the last piece of your favourite treats even when he pretends he won’t. Or how he’s looking at you now like he’d burn down the world just to keep you smiling.

No. You don’t fancy each other. That would be... messy. Complicated. The end of everything easy and good between you.

And James Potter may be a lot of things, but he’s not your ending.

He’s your always.

So you take another sip of the mocktail he gave you and bump his shoulder with your own, like nothing ever passed through your mind. He bumps you back, that lazy smirk still on his lips.

-

The pub starts to empty in waves, voices thinning out as people stumble toward coat racks and lingering goodbyes. You're nestled deeper into the booth than you realized, lulled by warmth and easy laughter and the comfort of being surrounded by your people.

Eventually, someone suggests calling it. Mary’s already halfway into her coat, Sirius is trying to coax Remus into stealing pint glasses for their flat –something about the collection– and Lily kisses you on the cheek with a meaningful look before grabbing Marlene’s arm and disappearing toward the door in a burst of cold air and laughter.

And James?

James is exactly where he’s been all night—at your side, elbow brushing yours every time he moves. When you pull your coat on, he reaches over without thinking and helps tug the hood into place for you.

“You ready?” he asks, and it’s easy, familiar.

“Yeah. Thanks for driving.” You smile, a little sleepy now that the buzz is fading.

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Wouldn’t trust anyone else to make sure you get home.”

-

The drive is quiet, but it’s not uncomfortable. Music hums low through the speakers—something you’ve heard a million times over, something James mumbles along to under his breath when he thinks you’re not listening. He’s one of those annoyingly good drivers too. One hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely between the seats, fingers drumming to the beat.

You glance over once and catch him mid-yawn, eyes crinkling at the corners as he grins at the road.

“Wanna come in?” you hear yourself ask when he pulls up in front of your place, your voice softer than you expect. “Just for a bit? I might put on a film.”

James looks at you, searching your face for something. Whatever he finds, it makes him smile—gentler than before. “Yeah,” he says. “I’d like that.”

You flick on the lights when you step inside, and it’s like muscle memory from there: shoes off, jacket thrown over the arm of the sofa, kettle filled. James leans against your kitchen counter like he belongs there. And he kind of does. There’s a mug he always uses in your cupboard. A hoodie of his in your laundry pile.

“What are we watching?” he asks, already padding into your living room, socked feet silent on the floorboards.

“Something easy,” you say. “Something we’ve seen before so I don’t actually have to pay attention.”

James shoots you a grin over his shoulder. “That for me or for you?”

You ignore the question, toss him the remote. “Dealer’s choice.”

You end up on opposite ends of the couch, legs tangled somewhere in the middle because it’s late and it’s cold and this is what you do. It’s not new.

The movie starts playing, dim blue light casting soft shadows across his face. You watch it for a while—or try to—but your thoughts start running at a mile a minute instead.

You try to focus on the movie. Really, you do. But all you can hear is Lily’s voice echoing in your head: “Just admit it already—you like each other.”

It’s not just her. It’s everyone.

Sirius, with his loud, theatrical gasps every time James passes you a drink. Marlene muttering “just kiss already” under her breath like it’s an inside joke. Even Remus, who’s supposed to be the voice of reason, always quirking a brow when James tosses an arm around your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Which it is. It’s normal. It doesn’t mean anything.

But now? Now it’s stuck in your head. Every glance, every smile, every stupid joke he laughs too hard at—it’s all tinged with the weight of everyone else's expectations.

You lean your head back on the cushion and sigh.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” James asks, voice soft and scratchy with tiredness.

You glance at him. His eyes are still on the TV, but the corners of his mouth twitch like he already knows you’re spiraling.

You hesitate, then sit up a little. “Can I ask you something?”

His gaze flicks to you instantly. “Course.”

“Do you ever get… tired of everyone thinking we’re in love?”

James lets out a short breath, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “All the fucking time.”

You nod, almost relieved. “Right? It’s like—just because we’re close doesn’t mean we’re secretly pining.”

“Exactly!” James says, animated now, like he’s been waiting for someone to validate this. “Like, we literally watched Sirius throw himself at Rem for years and no one said shit, but I pass you a drink and suddenly it’s like—‘When’s the wedding, James?’”

You snort, finally smiling. “It’s exhausting.”

“Truly.”

Silence falls again, but it’s different now. 

“I just…” you start, voice quieter. “I wish there was a way to prove it, you know? That we don’t fancy each other. That this—” you gesture vaguely between the two of you “—this is just friendship.”

James raises a brow, half-amused. “You want, like… a presentation?”

You giggle. “Maybe.”

“Bullet points and everything?”

“‘All the reasons James Potter is categorically not in love with me.’”

“‘Exhibit A: the time I ate her last slice of pizza.’”

“‘Exhibit B: he never laughs at my best jokes.’”

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

Another beat passes. You look at each other.

There’s a flicker in James’ eyes—just a spark of something you can’t name—and it hits you, sudden and sharp, how close you are. His knee is still pressed against yours. His fingers are brushing your ankle like it’s nothing. Like it always has been.

You lick your lips. Heart hammering. And then—

“…We should kiss.”

James blinks. “What?”

You’re not even sure where the words came from. They just—slipped out. But now that they’re here, they feel oddly right. Inevitable.

You swallow. “We should kiss. Just once. To prove there’s nothing there.”

He stares at you, stunned into silence.

You rush to explain. “I mean—everyone keeps saying there is. And maybe if we just… did it, and it was awkward or bad or whatever, we could tell them and they’d drop it. They’d finally stop acting like we’re in some secret relationship.”

James is still staring, mouth slightly open.

You flush, heat creeping up your neck. “It’s stupid, forget it—”

“I’ll do it,” he says suddenly.

Your breath catches. “You will?”

He nods, slowly, like he’s still catching up with himself. “Yeah. If it’ll prove a point.”

You try to ignore the way your pulse spikes. “Right. Okay.”

With the room still mostly shrouded in darkness, it's difficult to make out the features of his face clearly. He shifts closer to you whilst manoeuvring your legs to settle beside you properly. There's little time to recognise the shift in his gaze as it pins to your lips before he's grinning and speaking again.

“What happens when you fall in love with me because of this?”

You snort, rolling your eyes, “Your ego’s fucking massive Potter, I’ll be fine.” you say, gently slapping his arm. “Not sure about you though.” he rolls his eyes and shakes his head at you, acting like you're the biggest nuisance in the world.

“Come on then.” you say, impatiently. James sighs, then nods, before he's raising a hand to cup your jaw. His touch is gentle, like he's holding something fragile, priceless. And then he's leaning in so slowly, allowing you the time to pull away in case you’d been joking.

You let your eyes fall shut, expecting his kiss as your hand drifts to rest on his knee. You don’t notice the faint hitch in his breath at your touch—it’s so subtle, it nearly slips past you. The kiss comes and goes in a heartbeat, a fleeting, chaste peck that barely brushes your lips. When his hand pulls away and he clears his throat, your eyes open. He doesn’t say a word.

Despite the fact you should feel happy that you felt nothing, there's a strange twisting feeling in your stomach. Like when you startle awake after dreaming that you're falling. Then it comes to you, that kiss wasn’t a real one it can’t prove anything. 

“That wasn’t a proper kiss, James.” you say while looking down at your hands, not wanting to face him.

“You’re right.” you look up to see his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and you're startled by the sudden fascination with his mouth. 

“You have to kiss me like you’d kiss someone you're in love with.”

James’ gaze drops to your lips and stays pinned there as he’s silent, thinking. 

“I can do that… I think.” 

“Come on then.” you joke as you take a deeper breath in.

James exhales, slow and steady, but you can see it—the way his fingers twitch slightly, like he’s restraining something. Like there’s a weight behind your words neither of you wants to name just yet.

“You’re sure?” he asks, voice quieter now, with none of that usual cocky lilt. It’s careful. Measured. He’s giving you one last out.

You nod. “It’s just a kiss.”

But it’s not. You both know that. It hasn’t been just a kiss since the moment you suggested it.

Still, you say it anyway, because it’s easier to pretend it’s simple.

James shifts closer, knees brushing yours again, the space between you shrinking by the second. His hand finds your jaw again—just like before—but this time his thumb lingers at your cheekbone, the pad of it brushing soft circles that make your heart lurch. There’s something almost reverent in his touch now, like he’s memorising every inch of you.

When he leans in this time, it’s slower. Like he’s moving through water. Like the world around you doesn’t matter anymore.

And when he finally kisses you, it’s nothing like the first time.

It’s not hesitant or performative or brief. It’s warm and aching and real.

James kisses you like he’s been waiting his whole life to do it. Like this isn’t about proving anything or making a point—it’s about you. About this.

His lips are soft and sure against yours, and when your hand slips up to grip the front of his jumper, he deepens the kiss with a low hum in the back of his throat, like he’s been holding that sound in for too long.

One of his hands slips down to your hip, shifting you closer, settling you on his lap. You go willingly, knees digging into the sofa at either side of his thighs as he tilts his head back to reach you better. Completely lost in each other, forgetting, you’re sure your lips will soon turn numb.

Your hands drift upward to settle around his neck and lightly tug the hair at the nape of his neck. James pulls you closer by the waist, chests flush and his mouth remains probing and searching on your own.

There’s the feeling of a smile in the kiss but you can’t tell who’s it is. You’ve fallen into a steady rhythm, easy and sweet, but when a noise is pulled from his throat you freeze, pulling away. 

Looking down at him your face sits somewhere between concern and confusion. James stares right back at you panting, but otherwise seemingly unaffected.

“Forgive a man for getting distracted, angel.” he defends, like it's all your fault. 

You know you should move away from him now. Really, you know. But there's a strange standoff happening where neither of you look away and neither of you move. Until you do. 

It's hard to tell who moves in first, but the other reciprocates and you’re kissing again. James kisses you like a man starved. It's feverish and intense. It's everything. 

You can’t help but grab hold of his hair, curls silky and soft through your fingers, giving them the slightest tug experimentally. It makes James shamelessly grind up against you. Nails digging lightly into the back of his neck, you gasp when his mouth leaves yours properly and latches onto your neck, lost in the bliss of it all, you grind down against him.

“Fuck, don’t do that,” His breath sounds strained. “can’t take it—“ His murmur is a rumble against your skin. You flush at the idea that he can’t contain himself because of this. Because of you. 

When he pulls away, finished ravishing your neck, you come back down to earth, scrambling to remove yourself from his lap. His hair is messy, messier than usual, from your touch and his lips are red and kiss bitten. 

You look to the far corner before you speak, unable to look at him now. 

“... I guess we’ve proved we don’t fancy each other, then.” 

You’re a liar and you know you are.

-

It’s been two days since the kiss. Two long, excruciating days where you haven’t spoken to James once. Not a text. Not a call.

You’ve replayed that night over and over in your head, hoping it would start to blur around the edges, lose its sharpness. But it hasn’t. If anything, it’s crystal clear—every touch, every sound, every look he gave you. And worst of all? You don’t even regret it.

You’re halfway through nursing a lukewarm coffee at the back corner of a café when Sirius slides into the seat across from you like he owns the place, all leather jacket and smug grin.

“Oi,” he says, tugging your cup toward himself and taking a sip without asking. “You’ve been avoiding us.”

You blink, startled. “Us?

As if summoned, Remus appears beside him, calm and neat in that way that makes you feel even more frazzled by comparison. “She’s definitely been avoiding James,” he says, not unkindly, as he slides into the seat beside Sirius.

Sirius throws an arm around Remus’ shoulders with dramatic flair. “And thus—by extension—the rest of us, tragically caught in the crossfire of whatever the hell is going on.”

You frown. “Nothing is going on.”

Sirius lets out a loud, derisive snort. “Right. Tell that to James, who has been moping around the flat like a Victorian widow.”

“I’m serious,” you say quickly.

Remus raises an eyebrow. “So are we.”

You roll your eyes. “Come on. He’s not moping.”

Sirius levels you with a look, all theatrics dropped. “He didn’t even yell at me for eating his last bag of crisps yesterday. He just sighed. Like—actual sadness sighing. Who even does that?”

Your heart sinks, but you try not to let it show. “He’s probably just… tired. He drove me home from the pub that night, maybe he’s still catching up on sleep.”

Sirius and Remus share a look.

Remus tilts his head. “That’s the night it started, you know.”

“I told you,” Sirius says, grinning now like he’s cracked a case. “Something happened in that car. Or after. Did you two fight?”

“No,” you say quickly. Too quickly. “Nothing happened.”

Sirius narrows his eyes at you. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

“I’m not lying,” you lie.

Remus leans in, voice quieter now, more careful. “We’re not trying to corner you. Just… we’re worried. About both of you.”

You take a long sip of your coffee, trying to buy time, but it’s cold and bitter and doesn’t help at all. You stare into the cup like it holds the answers. It doesn’t.

Sirius softens, which is somehow worse. “Look, we’re not asking for details. Just—maybe talk to him?”

You sigh. “I don’t know what I’d even say.”

“Try the truth,” Remus offers gently.

The truth is a mess, though. The truth is a blur of lips and hands and breathless gasps. It’s James’ eyes on yours in the dark, his fingers brushing your cheek like he was afraid you’d vanish. It’s the way you didn’t sleep that night, couldn’t sleep, because your skin still remembered the shape of his touch.

And the worst part? The worst part is you know what you felt wasn’t one-sided.

Sirius glances at his watch. “If you don’t call him, I’m sending him to your flat.” He threatens, leaving no room for argument.

-

You don’t call him.

You want to—God, you want to. You’ve picked up your phone half a dozen times just to stare at his name, thumb hovering over the call button like it’s going to electrocute you. But every time, something stops you. Some awful cocktail of fear and guilt and what-if. What if it was a mistake? What if he regrets it? What if he doesn’t, and you’re the one who ruins everything?

So you don’t call. You sit with the silence and let it suffocate you.

It's nearly midnight when there's a knock at your door.

Your heart jumps into your throat. For a second, you think about ignoring it, pretending you’re asleep, but you already know who it is.

You open the door anyway.

James is standing there, hoodie thrown on as if he’d left in a rush, curls messy and damp like he’d just run his hands through them a thousand times on the way over. His eyes flick across your face like he’s checking to make sure you’re real. Like he didn’t quite believe you’d actually answer.

He looks tired.

You swallow. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he echoes, voice low.

There's a silence. Tense. Tight. It stretches between you like a rubber band pulled too far.

“I wasn’t gonna come,” he says eventually, shifting on his feet. “Told myself you’d call. That I’d give you space.” He pauses. “But I waited. And waited. And you didn’t.”

Your chest aches.

“I know,” you say, barely above a whisper. “I just… I couldn’t.”

James steps past you without asking. You don’t stop him.

He makes his way into your flat like he always has- it’s muscle memory. Like he belongs here. And God, maybe he does.

“I’ve been losing my mind,” he says suddenly, turning to face you. “I thought we were okay and then it’s like you disappeared. No texts. No calls. Like it didn’t mean anything.”

“It wasn't supposed to mean anything, James.” you snap.

He flinches, like you’ve slapped him. You immediately regret it.

“I didn’t mean—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“You didn’t mean for it to mean anything,” he says, voice low. “But it did.”

You exhale shakily, crossing your arms like they can shield you from this. “We said it was just a kiss. To prove a point.”

“Yeah, well, that didn’t work,” he says, stepping closer. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since.”

You glance away, blinking too quickly. “That’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not,” he agrees. “It’s not fair that I kissed you and everything changed and you’re acting like it didn’t.”

You hate this. Hate how right he is. Hate how vulnerable he looks standing in your living room like he’s afraid to breathe too hard and scare you off.

Your voice is quiet. “I didn’t know what to say.”

He’s quiet a beat. Then:

“Say anything.”

You hesitate. Your throat feels too tight. But then you force yourself to look at him, to see him.

“I love you,” you say. “And I don’t care if it’s wrong, I just do.”

James exhales, a slow, shaky breath like he’s been waiting for this—like he wasn’t sure he’d ever get it. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” you repeat, firmer now. “I love you and I’ve been trying not to. Because I thought it would ruin everything.”

He steps forward, hands gentle as they come to rest at your waist. “I’ve always loved you, I think.”

It breaks something open in your chest. This is real. This is terrifying. This is everything.

“But what if we mess it up?” you ask, voice trembling.

James gives you a soft, crooked smile—the one that’s always undone you. “Then we mess it up. Together.”

You laugh, a watery, disbelieving thing, before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in.

And when he kisses you this time, it’s not tentative or desperate. It’s steady. Sure. Like he knows you’re his.

Like he always has.

masterlist <3