#dark!james

Remus looks disappointed, though James is accustomed to it at this point, recognizing the downward tilt of his friend’s mouth. For one, there’s the notable absence of Lily at his side. And, of course, Lily is also the second reason why Remus is disappointed in James right now, too. Though, that one should be obvious. 

“Where’s Lily?” Remus’ eyes dart between James and you a few times before settling on his friend’s face again. “Does she know you’re here?”

James’ eye twitches. He doesn’t know if Remus sees it or not. “She does,” He responds shortly, taking a long gulp of his drink, “Couldn’t make it. Ministry thing.”

“Really?” Remus’ exhale is just short of a scoff. He crosses his arms across his chest. “James-”

“It’s fine, Remus. You know how we are.” As the words leave James’ mouth, you look up. Somehow, you brighten even further when you see him, and he inhales like he’s walked outside, taking in fresh air, his smile unconsciously widening.

“Yes, I think that’s the problem-” Remus’ words are overshadowed by your inevitable arrival. You slide into James’ side, slotting into your place under his arm without hesitation. You fit perfectly against him, as you always have. Perhaps having been at his side like this throughout childhood molded his body to fit your own. Remus remembers seeing the two of you sitting on the train ride to Hogwarts together for the first time just like this, though both of you much younger, shorter with chubbier baby faces.

“Hi, boys!” You greet happily, your smile stunning and your face flushed. It’s clear to both of them that you’ve had a few drinks. Your arm snakes around James’ back, your fingers sliding under the soft fabric of his t-shirt to trace his side. You turn your neck to look up at him and his dark irises are there to meet yours when you do. You give James a smile so sickly sweet Remus thinks he might get a cavity, then you turn your gaze back toward him. “How are we?”

“I’m alright,” Remus says with a nod and a pointed look in James’ direction. “How are you, love? You look a bit… knackered.” 

You laugh brightly, running your free hand through your hair. “I’m fine, Remus! Besides, James is here to look out for me.” Your hand behind him pats his back a few times, then stills there against the slight curve at the base of his spine. Something about it makes James’ brain feel a little more drunk than he is. Remus looks uncertain about your answer. 

You suddenly brighten more, pulling back from James’ arms to look at him again. “Dance with me!” He registers the music flowing through the flat. No one else is dancing. But you don’t care.

He takes your hand. Remus sends him a warning glare. James goes anyway.

The two of you begin to sway in the middle of Sirius and Remus’ living room. James touches you, but not the way he wants to. His hands stay in yours, on your arms, or find themselves busy twirling you around. You laugh prettily, swaying and running into him as the alcohol continues to flow through your veins. 

By the end of the night, the two of you are spent, throats sore from shouting over the music and heads spinning from firewhiskey. You tell him about your new flat, about the uneasy feeling that overtakes you when you’re alone. The offer falls from his tongue easily, sweet and smooth like honey when he whispers in your ear.

“You can stay with me tonight,” He says, and he sees the way you shiver when his lips accidentally brush the shell of your ear. He gets the sudden urge to bite down, to wedge bits of your flesh between his teeth and keep them there. 

You agree to go home with him, and you sleep in his bed, in his arms. Just like you used to.

Nothing happens between the two of you, though it takes every bit of self control that James possesses. That thing deep inside him, hidden behind his ribs and tangled within all his organs, lays dormant. 

The monster agrees that tonight is not the night.

Lily comes home mid-afternoon, looking incredibly exhausted. James is there when she floos in, lifting her bag for her with a quick wave of his wand and placing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. She doesn’t smile, she doesn’t lean into him like she always does. Instead, her lips purse as she lets James take her hand and levitate her bag up the staircase toward the bedroom. Her fiery curls frame her face, her eyes sharp and gaze intentional. 

“Y’alright, love?” James asks, tugging the end of one flaming ringlet. It bounces before falling back into place with the others. She keeps her fierce eyes on him, not moving away but not relaxing into him either. James’ stomach churns with a disgustingly familiar discomfort, the same way it does when his body knows someone is upset with him, even if his mind hasn’t caught up yet. 

“Where were you last night?” Lily asks, her voice soft and sweet and just as lovely as the first time James heard it. The melody of her tone doesn’t help the tight grip destroying his intestines, though. 

“At Remus and Sirius’ flat, I told you that.” James runs a hand through his curls, the brunette waves parting easily as the pads of his fingers slide between them. It’s soothing, comforting in a small way, mimicking the way you used to do it growing up. 

“And then you came back here?” Lily’s follow up question is pointed, accompanied by the crossing of her arms over her middle. She leans on one hip and James feels the sparking tension of a fight, with Lily urging him to light the match and ignite the angry flames that threaten to ruin them both. 

“Yes.” James’ tone is defensive. He stands up straighter, shoulders squaring, eyes narrowing in his girlfriend’s direction. There’s another question coming. Maybe several. He doesn’t want an interrogation right now.

“Alone?” And there it is. It always comes back to you. 

“Lily-”

“Remus told me that she left with you, James.” Lily shifts to the other hip, tilting her head and raising her eyebrows. Her hair falls in the way sparks do as a firework dies, bright and attention-catching. It highlights the growing upset in her expression. 

“Yes, she did. She was drunk, so I let her sleep here.” James’ head shakes and his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. He meets her eyes again directly, brown clashing with green. “I wanted to make sure she was safe. She said she feels uneasy in her new flat.”

“Oh yes, making sure she was safe, I’m sure that’s it, James.” Lily rolls her eyes, taking off her jacket and tossing it aside. It lands on the back of the couch, destroying the pristine setting. “And where did she sleep?”

James takes a long breath to calm himself down, eyelids opening slowly and gaze looking unimpressed. “Lils, her and I have slept in the same bed since we were-“

“In diapers, yes I know.” Lily rolls her eyes again, this time more dramatically. Or, at least, James thinks she’s being dramatic. You’re only his best friend, after all. “But don’t you think it’s too much? You’re adults now, and you have a girlfriend. Or did you forget?”

“Of course I didn’t forget!” James feels his anger like bugs crawling underneath his skin. “She’s my best friend, and she always has been. You’ve known that since our first year at Hogwarts, Lily-”

“Sometimes, I feel like you treat her more like your girlfriend and me more like your best friend.” Lily’s voice is sharp and precise, striking exactly where she needs to in order to pierce James’ emotional armor. Except, it seems to only piss him off more. He sighs again, exasperatedly running a hand down his face. 

“Lily-” 

“Have you kissed her?” Each word sharper than a knife, demanding an answer. When she doesn’t immediately receive one, her eyebrows raise higher, the look in her eyes growing somehow even more intense. “Well?”

“I mean, not since fifth year.” James’ scrambled words are clearly not enough for Lily, who throws her arms up with frustration and turns away from him. Her hands rub over her face. James grabs her shoulder gently, turning her around to face him again. “It was only the once, we’ve never kissed again.” 

Lily looks directly into his eyes, and James can’t tell what she’s thinking. But he knows what he’s thinking, and it’s that this conversation would never have happened at all if it was you in front of him and not Lily. You’ve always been soft with him, sweet and accommodating, accepting of every part of him. And you, you’re practically a part of him at this point. 

“James, I’ve told you, I just don’t think she-”

“Lily, if you’re going to continue getting jealous of my best friend, this isn’t going to work.” The words tumble from his lips before he even registers what he’s saying. All he can think of is you. He wants to be with you. Away from here. Away from this fighting, this tension.

Lily looks a bit like her world is crumbling around her. James had chased her for so long, begged her to spare even a minute of her time. He’s loved her for as long as he can remember, he’s not sure if he knows how to un-love her. But if Lily can’t accept you as a part of his life, then he knows who his priority would be in that choice. 

“James.” Lily’s voice is a bit hollow, her hand reaches in his direction but doesn’t touch him. Her brows furrow, her lips turn even further downward, and her gaze becomes a bit unsteady the way it always does when her brain is racing. “You can’t-”

“I mean it, Lily. If you ask me to choose between you and her, I’ll pick her.” James is tense, his muscles tight and ready to move, to leave. 

A different look comes across Lily’s face now, one of offense. She looks taken aback by his words and the shaking of her head speeds up. “James, no. I would never ask you to do that.”

He scoffs again, tone getting harsher and crueler each time he opens his mouth and moves his tongue. Lily’s never seen this side of him before, the part of him that lets darkness creep through his veins like poison and destroy everything in its path to get what it wants. “But isn’t that what you’re doing?” 

Lily’s expression is becoming more desperate by the moment. She’s grasping for him, holding on as tightly as she can but he’s slipping away like grains of sand through her fingers. She hasn’t felt this far from him in years, it’s isolating and she can’t seem to find her way out of this, back to him. “No, James. I’m just trying to-”

He cuts her off with a loud guffaw and a hand through his curls. His eyes are almost wild at this point, and there’s a small moment where Lily wonders just how angry James will let himself get. She’s not scared, but she wonders if maybe she should be. 

“What you’re trying to do is separate me from my best friend. That’s not right, girlfriends shouldn’t do that.” 

Lily holds her tongue and purses her lips, looking at her shoes. She hasn’t even taken them off yet. 

James knows exactly what he’s doing. The monster inside of him claws at his insides, and he swears he can feel every cell screaming at him. He sees Lily cave in the way she never would have before. She was always so strong and lively, and his monster, his demon, has destroyed that. It doesn’t satisfy his craving, though, because Lily hasn’t satisfied the thing inside of him for a long time. 

“I can’t do this.” James’ last words to Lily that night are spoken as he moves, a brisk few steps to the door and his hand reaches out for the handle. Lily wraps her arms tightly around her middle and wills herself to scream at him. She doesn’t, because she isn’t sure what she’ll say. There’s a part of her that’s afraid she’ll open her mouth and her tongue will form the words ‘please don’t go’ instead of ‘you shouldn’t speak to me that way, good riddance.’

So instead, she does nothing. And James leaves.

He closes his eyes and rests his neck on the back of Sirius and Remus’ couch. It’s comfortable, the space cozy and lived in, evidence of the lovers renting the place scattered around. James had always known Sirius and Remus would end up together. He’s only told them one time how fitting things would be if he ended up with you, after a few drinks and wedged together in a small alcove, smoking cigarettes in the rain. Sirius had laughed. Remus had stared at James like he was unsure of him.

Remus has always been the one who can see too deeply into James. Like maybe something about the monster deep inside Remus can sniff out the one buried within James. 

The aforementioned man settles onto the cushion at the other end of the couch. It shifts enough that James can feel it, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He could recognize Remus’ scent anywhere, having spent countless nights next to him pouring over plans for pranks and the Marauder’s Map. 

The faintest hint of chocolate and coffee, the musk of old, worn book pages, and the underlying touch of something distinctly Remus. 

“I know you told Lily.” James says, deep tone cutting through the air as he turns his head. He finally peels his eyelids apart, readjusting to the dim light of the cozy living room. He hates the way it reminds him of the Gryffindor common room. 

“Of course I told Lily.” Remus doesn’t snap, his tone digging into James without being sharp. Like he can reach down into the deep, dark pits of James’ insides without cutting into him at all. “James-”

He cuts Remus off. The monster rears its ugly head again, growling and writhing in that space within his ribcage. 

“I didn’t fucking cheat, Remus.” 

Remus just looks at James, unimpressed. “Might as well.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” James’ blood roars, his muscles tense, the vein in his forehead becoming prominent as he clenches his jaw. 

“You know exactly what I mean, James. You’re far too close, and you know it. Lily knows it, too.” Remus stays calm, his eyes intense and focused directly on James. Each word is calculated, chosen for a specific reason James doesn’t have the privilege of grasping. He wonders just how many conversations Remus has had with Lily about him behind his back. 

“Remus, we’ve always been like this! I don’t know why we left Hogwarts and now everyone acts like-”

“Because we’re adults now, James.” Remus sits forward, elbows on his knees, hands gesturing firmly as he speaks. “You aren’t second years cuddled in bed together during a storm anymore. You can’t just sleep with another woman when you’re with Lily.” 

“I didn’t fucking cheat!”

“And that’s what I mean.” Remus’ eyes are almost as alight with emotions as James’ are. “You think that’s the end of it all! Like that matters.”

“Of course it matters!” James can’t even think at this point, his brain abuzz, moving too fast to grasp onto anything. Well… there is one thing he can grasp onto. A growing, living, dark thing. 

“Does it?” Remus’ voice is practically a hiss now, and he stands. James does too, and he can feel the tips of his fingers tingle. The monster urges him to clench them into fists. He doesn’t. 

“Let me ask you something, James. If she asked you to sleep with her, would you?” 

James doesn’t answer immediately. They stare at each other, the air between them so sharp it feels like it could pierce every vulnerable spot James didn’t even know he had. He straightens himself again, gritting his teeth. The monster screams deep inside him. 

“It doesn’t even matter anyway. I broke up with Lily.”

“You did what?” Remus is the one to clench his fists first, squaring his shoulders as he moves to his full height. James’ monster doesn’t like that, doesn’t like the way Remus can still tower over James despite his own intimidating height. “James, you-”

The two men don’t get the chance to escalate their conversation, cut short by an unwelcome interruption. It isn’t Sirius stumbling down the stairs, rubbing at his eyes and shouting about being woken up, though that would be understandable. Instead, it’s a steady, urgent tapping that sounds from the kitchen window. There, on the other side of the glass, is your owl. 

Both men fall into a standstill, watching as the owl screeches and pecks at the window, a small piece of parchment tied to its scrawny leg. Remus moves then, lanky legs carrying him through the kitchen, long fingers prying at the window panes, a squeak filling the space as the glass sides open. 

Your owl darts inside the moment it is given the chance. Its wings flap, fluttering as the bird finds a landing spot directly in front of James. The parchment tied to its leg reflects this choice, his name written on the front in your signature handwriting. James would know it anywhere. 

He takes the parchment, untying the knot holding it with a quick tug. It comes loose in his palm, and Remus stands with pursed lips and a disappointed expression as James’ eyes scan over the flowy, inky words. 

Remus knows it’s an invitation without James saying anything out loud. He watches the way James seems to brighten a bit, the intensity of his anger dimming as his dark pupils trace each word. 

Remus watches James leave with a sick feeling low in his gut. He loves James, he does, but he can see the signs of his monster clear as day. Remus recognizes some of those same signs when he looks in the mirror, though his own monster was thrust upon him without choice. A cruel, unwanted companion.

He doesn’t think he can say the same for James.

“I’m sorry,” You say the moment James floos into your apartment, though there’s no reason for you to feel sorry. “I just- something feels off and I want to make sure-”

“Love, never be sorry for asking me to protect you.” James says with a comforting smile and he reaches out to ruffle your hair as he steps past you into the living room. His eyes take in your new apartment, the colorful decor a contrast from his own monochrome-toned flat with Lily. 

You find that it immediately feels more comfortable with James here, though you knew it would. That’s why you invited him over. Your shoulders loosen, the tension that had been taking over your muscles fleeing your body the longer his sunny presence shines through your flat. 

The two of you fall into each other like you always do. You order food delivery, cuddling up together on the couch and talking about anything and everything that comes to mind. You both pretend to ignore the way James’ hand continues to slide higher and higher up your thigh. The sun eventually falls below the horizon and for the second night in a row, you and James find yourself in bed together, limbs tangled despite every warning sign against it. 

Tonight is different from last night. Tonight, James’ hand finds your thigh under the covers. Your eyes raise to meet his, or at least the faint glint you can see in the darkness of the bedroom. His palm is warm and slightly rough and you know he can feel the way your muscles are tensing underneath his touch. Your breath catches when the tips of his fingers dip below the hem of your shorts and your hand reaches out to grip his wrist.

“James…” Your voice trembles just a bit, but James catches it. He leans close enough to brush the tip of his nose against your own and you lean back, your heart betraying you as it threatens to beat out of your chest. “What about Lily?”

“Forget about Lily,” He whispers as he presses closer to you again. This time his hand slides up the hem of your shorts and he squeezes your inner thigh with an intensity that has you biting your lip. “I think we’re broken up.”

“Really?” You hate the way it comes out as a hopeful squeak, and you open your mouth to ask further questions but James stops you by sliding his middle finger underneath your panties. Your whole body trembles and you gasp. James takes the chance to connect his lips to your own and slide his tongue into your mouth. Your brain short-circuits, overwhelmed by him and the way he’s touching you. It’s better than you could’ve ever imagined it and you can’t believe it’s really happening. You’d question him more if you weren’t currently below him. 

(It feels too good to be true because it is.)

He swallows every sound you make as his finger teases your clit. You grip him like you might fall apart if he pulls away, and you truly think that you would. When he slides it lower, pressing it inside you, you can feel the way your eyes roll back and your toes curl. He separates his lips and tongue from your own, burying his face in your neck. He whispers soft words of encouragement when he enters a second finger, and then eventually a third. You squirm and writhe beneath him, simultaneously loving and hating the way he seems to be able to work you without even trying. The way he knows what you need without asking. Things have always been that way, though, between the two of you. Just never like this. 

You whine loudly when he pulls his fingers out of you and he laughs brightly. You shove at him with your foot but he catches your ankle, pressing a kiss to the side of it before he lowers himself between your legs. He devours you like a man starving. Slow at first, then insatiable. Your mouth hangs open, your hands buried in his hair, and any thoughts of Lily that might have been lingering in your mind are long gone now.

His tongue slides between your folds with an intensity that has you gasping and panting. You can’t help but roll your hips toward his face, your thighs squeezing his head and he loves it. You fall apart against his tongue and James’ monster roars. He doesn’t think it could get any better until you do it again later on his cock, his hands guiding you to bounce on top of him. He finishes inside you with a low growl of your name, holding you close as he trembles and rocks you both through it.

He doesn’t know how many times the two of you fuck throughout the night. It all blends together, hours of exploration of things the two of you have only ever thought about but never admitted. He takes you in every possible way he can think of, easily shifting your body however he wants it. He loves the way your eyes light up when he tugs you around.

In the morning, the sun shines brighter, the air smells fresher, and James Potter feels like maybe he’s finally satiated his monster. He’s known what it wanted for years now, but he never thought… even when Lily finally became his girlfriend, the monster has never been this quiet. 

He kisses you goodbye softly with a smile, and you let him go. You think he’ll be back soon. 

James is not expecting for Lily to still be at his flat when he returns, the depths of his brain already trying to figure out how he is going to fit your things in between his own with her gone. He’s not expecting Remus either, or Sirius. Mary and Marlene are both there too, the whole group of them looking at him like he’s a demon they have managed to trap and now need to subdue. 

And, James supposes he is. Close enough, anyway.

All of your hopes for something with James shatter the next weekend, when you meet up at Remus and Sirius’ again. Lily is there again this time, hanging off of James’ arm just like she had been all of those times before. Your heart sinks when James meets your eyes and there’s a visible amount of apology swimming within them. Lily is nicer to you than she has been in a while, and it makes your stomach sink in the worst way. 

She doesn’t know, does she? 

You spend the evening nursing a single drink, not trusting yourself to not get drunk and say something stupid. You should’ve known better than to think James could really end things with Lily. Your eyes burn the entire time you’re there, and in addition to your heartbreak, you find that for some reason, you no longer seem to fit in this group. Like a piece of a puzzle that ended up in the wrong box. Have you always been forcing yourself into his group and you just hadn’t noticed? 

Everything seems to have changed, and yet nothing actually has.

You barely manage a goodbye to any of them before leaving, a sick feeling like bile rising up in your throat. You’re worried you might be sick if you see Lily press a kiss to James’ cheek one more time. 

Your sheets still smell like him when you flop back down on your bed, the musk of him leftover. Everything you own is covered in him. 

You lay there for hours, maybe even days. You barely get up to eat, use the bathroom, and then find your way crawling back into the darkness of your bedroom, tangling in the sheets. You sit in the silence alone, thinking. Oh god, all you can do is think and think and think about James and poor Lily and how royally you’ve fucked everything up. 

You decide not to talk to James again. At least for a while, just to let things cool off. It’s the hardest choice you’ve ever made, severing ties with your best friend. But if James and Lily are happy then… you don’t want to come in between them. Even if it makes your heart feel like it’s being ripped to shreds. 

It’s not the first time James has chosen Lily over you. This time just hurts more. You’d convinced yourself it was different this time, maybe. But with him, it never is. 

You ignore his owls. Each time, you collect the letter, give his owl a treat, then toss the parchment into the fireplace. You don’t want to read his apologies or his excuses. You’ve heard them before. 

‘I just… it’s Lily, you know? But you’re still my girl, right?’

You’ve never felt like his girl, and you certainly don’t right now. 

James doesn’t seem to get the hint. Actually, you think he does, and instead of listening, he’s stubborn enough to double down. 

The letters keep coming. One after the other, again and again, that same scratchy handwriting that spells out your name and is quickly engulfed in the flames of your fireplace once received. Sometimes there are multiple in a day, and the envelopes get thicker and thicker despite the increased frequencies of his owl’s visits. Despite your curiosity, your hurt stops you from ever reading one. 

Eventually they stop. And that is almost worse.

With nothing left to distract you, and your entire life crumbling around you, the feeling of unease in your flat continues to grow. You find yourself struggling to sleep, jumping awake with a start several times in the middle of the night for a reason you can’t seem to figure out. Nothing looks out of place, nothing has fallen or changed or looks like it could have made any sort of noise at all. Your wards are not disturbed, all of your precautions still intact. But, it seems as though the moment you fall back asleep, it happens again. This too increases in frequency over time.

Then there’s the little things. Doors left open that you’re certain you closed, your things shifted on your end table just slightly, just enough to notice. There’s a feeling of being watched that makes your stomach churn like it’s going to rip itself apart, but no matter how hard you search, you can’t find anything. 

Your mind doesn’t even feel like your own anymore, at least sometimes. You find yourself jumping often, eyes darting around after you swear you see something move in the corner of your vision. You find yourself running into things, though there’s no obvious evidence that any of your furniture has been shifted around at all. Things just feel off in a way that’s new and terrifying.

It doesn't feel better when you finally force yourself to leave your flat again. You walk alone, given your entire friend group is also his friend group, and you aren’t taking any chances with seeing James Potter. Not yet.

You go to the shops, to your job at the bookshop in Diagon Alley, to the park. You can’t shake the feeling of a pair of eyes following you wherever you go, but even your quiet ‘homenum revelio’s give you nothing. 

You floo back to your flat one night after a late shift at work, and immediately the hair on the back of your neck stands up. The wards are still intact but you can feel someone else is there. It’s an instinct, and you’ve learned to trust those over the years. Though, recently you don’t feel like you can trust anything anymore.

You tear your flat apart, but once again find nothing. Nothing is obviously out of place, at least no more than things have been. There’s no signs of a break in, magical or otherwise. In fact, the flat seems to look less eerie than usual despite the growing tension in your shoulder blades and clenching of your jaw. Are things cleaner than they were before? How could they be?

It’s that same night you break, unable to sleep while your heart pounds and your mind races. You feel eyes watching you as you sit up from your bed, turning on the light with a flick of your wand, though once again it only reveals that nothing is there. You cry for a while, the anxiety piercing into every one of your cells. Days and weeks at this point of constantly looking over your shoulder in your own home. 

Your hand shakes as you gather your quill and parchment. You find your throat dry and oxygen is difficult to take in as you dip the tip of your quill into the jar of ink, then press it to the paper.

And there, in the corner of the room, James watches you write a plea for help to him through the fabric of his invisibility cloak, a smirk on his lips and a glint in his eyes.

Finally, the monster whispers from deep inside him. 

It will not sleep for much longer, James can feel it. Despite everything, despite Lily, despite his friends, the monster still wants you. And the monster always gets what it wants in the end. It will consume everything, destroy it, burn it all down. It would tear through anything that would dare stand in its way.

And James is prepared to do whatever it takes.

°˖✧✿✧˖°

Perched at the foot of the bed, one leg crossed over the other, watching him with a lazy sort of patience. He looks… content. Like he’s been waiting.

Like he knew this moment would come.

"Good morning, love," James murmurs.

Regulus' throat is dry. He swallows, shifting, only to realize he’s not quite free to move. Silk ribbons, matching the shade of the roses, wind around his wrists, tying him loosely to the headboard. Not tight enough to hurt. Just tight enough to remind him that he’s supposed to stay.

His pulse spikes. "James—"

James tilts his head, studying him, unbothered by the sharp edge in Regulus’ voice. "You were tossing in your sleep. I thought you might hurt yourself," he explains, casual, as if this is normal. "I just wanted to keep you safe."

Regulus exhales, slow and measured, biting back the instinct to snap. That never works with James. He only smiles when Regulus fights, delighted by the pushback.

So he shifts tactics. Keeps his voice even. "James, untie me."

James hums, dragging a hand through his hair, disheveled like he’s been running his fingers through it all night. "But then you’ll leave," he says, almost pouting. "And it’s Valentine's Day."

The way he says it makes Regulus' skin crawl. Not because James sounds angry—if he were angry, Regulus could handle that. But he isn’t. He’s smiling, warm and affectionate, like a lover presenting a well-thought-out gift.

Regulus tugs at the ribbons, testing them. "You know I hate surprises."

James leans forward, voice dropping to a whisper. "And you know I hate when you act like you don’t love this."

His fingers ghost over Regulus’ cheek, tracing the curve of his jaw. It’s so soft, so unbearably gentle that Regulus’ breath catches.

James notices. Of course he does. He always notices.

"You’re shaking," James murmurs, dragging the pad of his thumb over Regulus' bottom lip. "Is it fear? Or excitement?"

Regulus doesn’t answer. He can’t. Because the truth is, he doesn’t know anymore.

James leans in, his mouth brushing just beneath his ear. "You can be honest with me," he whispers. "No one worships you like I do. No one knows you like I do."

Regulus presses his lips together, unwilling to give James the satisfaction of a reaction.

James only laughs. "So stubborn." His fingers drift down, ghosting over Regulus' throat, lingering there. "But you stayed, didn't you? You always stay."

Regulus could fight. Could kick him off, rip the ribbons apart, push past him. And yet, he doesn’t move.

James notices everything. The slight tremor in Regulus’ breath, the way his fingers twitch against the silk bindings, the way his eyes dart toward the door before snapping back to him. Regulus isn’t a fool—he’s calculating, measuring the distance, weighing his chances.

James loves that about him. Loves the way Regulus' mind works, the way he’s always trying to stay three steps ahead. But today, there’s no need for strategy. No need for escape.

James has already won.

He moves slowly, deliberately, reaching into his pocket. The flick of a blade opening makes Regulus' breath hitch—but James doesn’t touch him. Instead, he presses the tip of the knife to a single rose lying on the bed between them, slicing through its stem with surgical precision.

The rose crumples, its petals falling apart beneath James’ fingers. He picks up one, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger before pressing it against Regulus' chest. Right over his heart.

“Do you know why I love Valentine's Day so much?” James muses, his voice a slow drawl, lazy but charged. “Because it’s the one day you let me have you without a fight.”

Regulus' jaw tenses. "I never let you have anything."

James smirks. "Then why are you still here?"

Silence.

James lets the weight of the question settle between them, watches as Regulus flicks his gaze away, stubborn, refusing to acknowledge the truth. He’s predictable like that. Beautiful in his defiance.

James drags the knife down, not touching skin, just close enough that Regulus can feel the air shift with it. He trails it along his collarbone, watching for any sign of panic.

There isn’t any.

"See?" James whispers, voice honeyed with devotion. "You're not afraid of me."

Regulus doesn’t answer. But James doesn’t need him to. He can see it—Regulus’ pulse jumping just beneath his jaw, not in fear, but in anticipation.

James smiles, pressing the handle of the knife into Regulus’ open palm.

"Go on," he murmurs. "If you really wanted to, you could stop me right now."

Regulus’ fingers curl around the handle. Tight. Knuckles going white. For a brief, flickering second, James wonders if he will. If he’ll drive it through his ribs just to prove a point.

But he doesn’t.

He never does.

Instead, Regulus drops the knife. It clatters against the sheets, and James watches his fingers flex, like he’s angry with himself for letting go.

James exhales, pleased.

"That’s my boy."

He leans down, brushing his lips over the corner of Regulus’ mouth, barely there. Regulus doesn’t move, doesn’t pull away, but James can feel the tension thrumming beneath his skin.

Desire and hatred are the same thing sometimes.

James releases the silk bindings with ease, unwinding them from Regulus' wrists like he’s unwrapping a gift. Regulus stays still, waiting, breath slow and controlled. When James is finished, he leans back, watching him expectantly.

Regulus could leave.

James won’t stop him. He never does.

And yet.

Regulus stays.

Of course, he does.

James smiles like he knew it all along—like he never doubted for a second that Regulus would remain right where he left him, tangled in the scent of roses, the silk ribbons slipping from his wrists like an abandoned promise.

Regulus’ breathing is steady, measured, but James can hear it—that barely-there hitch when he moves, the way his fingers twitch against the sheets like he’s resisting the urge to do something reckless.

It’s intoxicating.

James reaches out, fingers brushing over the inside of Regulus’ wrist, where the faint impression of silk still lingers. A ghost of control, fading too quickly for his liking. Regulus watches him, unreadable, but James knows him too well. Knows how he holds himself too still when he’s trying to pretend he isn’t feeling anything at all.

“You should run,” James murmurs, voice light, teasing. “You should leave while you still can.”

Regulus doesn’t move.

James exhales a soft laugh. “That’s what I thought.”

He leans forward, sliding a hand into Regulus’ hair, tilting his head back just enough to expose his throat. He watches his pulse jump beneath his skin, feels the sharp inhale Regulus takes as he presses his lips just below his jaw.

"You hate me," James whispers against his skin. "Don't you?"

Regulus says nothing.

James drags his teeth down the curve of his throat, just enough to make Regulus tense beneath him. "Say it."

Regulus exhales sharply. "I hate you."

James hums, pleased, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the spot where his teeth had been. "Liar."

His hands trail lower, fingertips tracing the line of Regulus’ ribs, pressing in just enough to make him shiver.

"You hate that you love me," James continues, voice a hushed, reverent thing. "Hate that no one has ever known you like I do."

Regulus clenches his jaw. "You're delusional."

James smiles. "Maybe."

He reaches for the discarded knife, slow and deliberate, watching as Regulus’ gaze flicks to it, tracking his every move. James brings it up between them, twisting it between his fingers.

"Maybe I am," James muses. "But you're still here."

He presses the flat of the blade against Regulus’ palm, letting him feel the cold steel. "So tell me, love," James murmurs, voice dangerously soft. "Are you going to kill me this time?"

Regulus doesn't take it. Doesn't push him away.

James tilts his head. "No?"

He exhales, dragging the knife up the length of Regulus' arm, slow and featherlight, not enough to break skin, just enough to make him aware of it.

"You know," James murmurs, pressing his lips against Regulus' temple, "if you asked me to, I'd let you."

Regulus stays silent, but his fingers curl into the sheets, knuckles going white.

James laughs softly, closing his eyes as he breathes him in.

"You'd miss me too much," James whispers, lips brushing against Regulus' ear. "Wouldn't you?"

Regulus doesn’t answer. But he doesn’t leave, either.

And James knows.

Because James is terrifying.

And James is beautiful.

And no one has ever loved Regulus quite like this.

And no one ever will.

you nod, ignoring your dinging phone that buzzes against your pelvis. "listen, i'm really sorry but.. i should go. i really should go. i have class soon, and attendance is mandatory so.." you go to turn, keeping a weary eye on the seething brunet who's rooted in his spot.

you scramble, trying to keep your quivering hands anchored against the hot cup as you shoulder through the glass door, the hinges squeaking with the effort. you think you've managed to rid of the male as the crisp air bites at your ears, discomfort churning like butter in the pit of your belly. but then there's a large hand clasping around your shoulder, spinning you around and nearly causing you to stumble back onto the cracked sidewalk. "jesus, james-"

"one date." he stabilizes his other hand on your other shoulder, keeping you rooted in your spot. he dismisses your wide-eyed look as a dazed one - tacking on the label of surprise rather than terror. "just one date, that's all i ask."

you wrangle yourself free, stumbling backward with blubbering vowels and consonants fizzling out on the tip of your tongue. "james, i just.. i don't think so. i don't like you like that, and i don't want to lead you on. i.. i'm sorry... but i have to go. i really have to go."

He trailed kisses down your back before resting his hands on your hips. You bit your lower lip.

“But did you think about what we talked about last night?” James asked.

Last night, just a repeat of four years ago.

Back then, you were young, too young, and naive. Maybe that was why you fell head over heels for the charismatic oncologist from New Jersey. As soon as your eyes landed on him, you knew your heart would ache until you could be with him. But it wasn’t just his charisma that drew you in, you were young but not stupid, no, it was so much more. It was his smile, his laugh, the way he seemed to deeply care about the people he was with. And you wanted that. You wanted someone who cared. You tried your best not to melt when you got introduced to him but failed miserably. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything, not then at least. Later that day, you got a note asking to join him for dinner. Just like that, what could’ve been a very boring week turned into a dream.

But every good dream has its end, and yours turned into a nightmare. You kept in touch with James, even after the end of the seminar. You would go see him a New Jersey whenever you could, but money was tight and you couldn’t afford to go there too often. That’s when he offered you to move in with him. Scratch that, that’s when he offered that you both look for a house and move in together. A house! You were still living with roommates and he was asking you to buy a house with him? And settling down? Just as you were finally free from school and ready to explore the world?

That’s exactly what you told him, and he didn’t like your answer. He told you he understood, yet his messages got colder. Your visits were shorter and shorter up until one day, you simply stopped coming. Just like that, in a matter of weeks, it was over.

It took three years for you two to meet again. It took only a few days to fall in love again. This time was different. Maybe it was because you were older, or because you now worked at the same hospital, in the same city, but everything felt easier. Now, after almost a year, together, the dream once again felt like it was ending. For the last weeks, James had been asking, begging, pressuring you to consider having children… and to try to have them soon… now. Last night, in particular, almost turned into an argument, as he once again presented the question to you.

“Because I had a few ideas on… you know… how we could… do this…” he said, punctuating his sentence with kisses on your neck.

“I’ll think about what you said, I promised,” you finally said.

You felt small in his arms, yet you didn’t want him to leave you. Despite all your disagreements, you needed him. You needed him to love you.

“I’ll get going,” he said coldly, “there are some things I need to grab at my place before going to work.”

He got up, leaving you freezing in your bed.

“I’ll see you there,” he added, kissing your hair gently.

Once you heard the door close, you rolled out of bed and made your way to the shower. You made yourself a quick breakfast before going back to your room to grab your birth control. Weirdly, it wasn’t in the usual drawer. In a panic, you quickly looked all over your room, making a mess of everything. You couldn’t have lost your pills, not now that James was talking about having a child. You sat down on your bed, trying to calm yourself down.

“Fuck…” you said out loud, wiping a tear from your cheek, “Where could they be? Could… could he…”

But that would be insane. James wouldn’t go as far as take your birth control pills from you. There was only one way to find out.

You barged into his office, not even bothering to knock before opening the door.

“House, out!” you barked at the doctor who was sitting in front of James.

“Do I need to go get my ear plugs,” he said getting up, “Are you guys about to have rough sex?”

“Out!” you screamed, pointing at the door.

“Alright, alright…” he said, closing the door behind him.

“Y/N?” James asked getting up, “What’s going on with you?”

“Oh nothing, or maybe the fact that you took my birth control pills!”

“How could you even…”

“Know it was you? I had them yesterday, you’re the only one who came over to my place… one plus one is two James, come on!”

“What does it matter anyway, you said you wanted to have a baby with me!”

“I said I’d love to have kids at some point. Not necessarily right now! I told you I was going to think about it. You couldn’t even wait one day!”

“You want kids, so what’s the problem if it’s now or later?”

Somehow, through all this, all your screaming, he had managed to remain calm.

“Because! Because having kids is a big decision! You’re out there talking birth control and cycles and I don’t know what else, are you seeing the world we live in? It’s a fucked up one! Climate change, overpopulation, school shooting! How am I supposed to raise a child knowing their life will be even more difficult than mine! How will I be a good mother if I can’t assure them that they will have a better life than I did?”

“Y/N, sit down. You need to calm down.”

“Calm down?”

“Sit. Down.”

Reluctantly, you did. Doing so, you noticed how fast your heart was beating. Not that it mattered much to you, James needed to understand that you weren’t sure that you wanted a baby right now.

“And what about me? Did you think of that? I’m the one that will carry a baby for nine months. Nine fucking months, James! That’s a long time! And how about all the ways my body will change? We’re not just talking about my belly and putting on weight. It’s aches and pains in my joints, back pains, leg cramps, skin changes, morning sickness, mood swings and I could go on! I…”

You had tears rolling down your cheeks now, though you were sure when you had actually started crying. You had trouble controlling your breathing.

“I… it took so long to accept my body as it is… how will I survive pregnancy… what if…”

“What if I don’t care,” he said cutting you off, “What if I still think you’re beautiful, despite everything you mention. What if I told you that having a child requires two people… two people that will take care of and love them.”

“But…”

“No ‘but’, we’re doing this and we’re doing it together. Now, I need you to calm down. Can you breathe for me Y/N?”

As he said that, he made his way around his desk, reaching for something that was resting on it. You couldn’t quite see what it was and recoiled as he stopped in front of you. It felt like he was towering over you. Even if you had plenty of space to get up and leave, you felt unable to move.

“That’s it Y/N, keep breathing. That’s good.”

“James…”

“We are going to have this baby, together. Now take this,” he said handing you a small plastic cup with one single pill in it.

“Is that… is that my birth control?” you asked.

He made the pill roll down in his hand. He reached to grab your face with his other hand, gently parting your lips with his thumb and forcing the pill into your mouth.

You swallowed before questioning him again.

“How do I know you didn’t just give me the sugar pill?”