#scene from a fanfiction

[girllookingoutwindow]

Colin tried to sleep but he was lost in his inner thoughts. Seeing her, at night, so beautiful and dreamy. Her lips, her body, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

He tries to remember how it felt to touch her, the softness of her skin. Her breath close to his. He's full of desire for her. He always wants to be close to her. Now she feels so close and so far away. He wanted so much to touch her, to kiss her.

Why he can't stop thinking about it? Why he couldn't do the only one thing that feels right to him?

He was hurt. And even if he feels ashamed of himself, he can't deny he wanted to hurt her too.

Her words suprised him. And making him come back to the room. She looks so pretty. She's talking but she's not really looking at him. It takes him a moment to understand what she's saying.

Her voice sounds sad, distant. He wanted to punish her. Making her feel sad. But now, he doesn't recognise himself through that feelings.

Before he can even get up she's gone. His body feels attached to her. The room feels so empty now.

She said something of him not wanting to be close to her. She doesn't know?

He follows her, he doesn't know why. Honestly, that's not true, he knows why. Because his body feels more at easy close to hers. Because everytime she goes away he feels his heart goes tight and he cannot breath. He miss her so much when she's not there. Life without her it's not a life. He feels like he's dead inside.

Why she doesn't know?

Maybe is his fault. He wanted to punish her. But why doesn't feel right? He's angry with her. But he's more angry with himself.

Perhaps he can try to write. Through words his feelings came more easy to the surface. But lately his words don't feel 'his' anymore. It was possible he was a little jealous of her. He needs to find an answer.

Penelope letters were the reason because he started to write. Everytime he read a letter from her, life felt more easy, more peaceful, more vibrant.

He couldn't stop himself to connect this feelings with his words. Words came a place to being his true self. So, he could find a purpose. A better version of himself. Pen made him believe he could be a better man. The man he wanted to be for her.

He recognises her letters. The first time he read it. The way he missed them whe she stopped to write to him.

He remembers the warm she made him feel. Her letters made him feel close to home. She was his home. She's his home. It's always being her, sweet and kind. But at the same time smart, sassy and funny. That's her. That's his Pen. The Penelope he always loved. He can recognise her now. He can hear her voice through her letters. And she always was her. Lady Whistledown, Penelope Featherington. They were the same. Both were his Pen.

[collophora]

Do yourself a favor and go read the entire fanfic work of @fanfoolishness

(In order: Under sun and shade, Blind Side, and Breathless (patching up is one of my fav too, I just had no cool sketch idea for it)

[turtleblogatlast]

AU where Leo is trapped in the Prison Dimension for months instead of minutes and the only way he gets by with his sanity intact is through recording himself talking to his wrist comm.

When they finally manage to get Leo back and make him rest up to heal, Donnie can’t help but listen to the recordings left behind.

He’s not sure what exactly he’s expecting, only that his subconscious is screaming at him that it has to be heartbreaking, that it has to be torturous.

Instead, what Donnie is subject to is a full thousand hours’ worth of Jupiter Jim and Lou Jitsu crossover fanfiction. More than one part in the series. Spanning well over a million words.

(The worst part is that it’s actually good.)

[courfee]

it's been exactly a year since the last chapter of Operation Walburga's Arbitrary No Kissing Ever Rule and I still miss it. This scene is probably one of my favourite things I've ever written and I've wanted to draw it for forever, so now seemed like an appropriate time

[starkspi]

"You okay?"

Another one from "Managerial Liberties" by the talented @miribalis (in which Adam is accidentally the best wingman ever - what a pun!).

[mirage126]

their first meeting . Based on the fanfiction "Perseverance" by: @pastelaspirations

[c0mbatchameleon]

Snippet / microfic / something idk

Aka where Regulus wakes up half drunk on the floor of his brother’s apartment and forgets that the spare bedroom is no longer a spare bedroom

The moonlight has carved out a hollowness into the room when Regulus opens his eyes. There’s music playing, still, for an audience of empty cups and a few toppled chairs and the snoring bodies of his friends on the couch.

Barty is splayed out over Evan, face buried into his neck like he doesn’t need air, but rather, he lives and breathes the boy beneath him. Evan’s hand has planted roots in his skull, twisted into matted hair. Flecks of glitter sprinkle every inch of the boys, a sparkle here and there in their hair, embedded in their skin, their eyelashes and parted lips. They’re a grimy sort of angelic in their blacked-out state, sleep blanketing them in an innocence you’d never find otherwise.

It’s not the first time he’s waken here, stiff back and sour taste in his mouth. He stumbles to the kitchen sink and sticks his head in, letting the water run rivers down his face and neck as he drinks it in gulps. It’s about a full minute of that, and then running his hands over his face for good measure, before he continues his trek to the bathroom, scouring the cabinet for mouthwash and taking a swig straight from the bottle and then swishing it and spitting into the sink, hands gripping the porcelain to hold up his own weight. It’s a wonder he’s been able to stand for this long with exhaustion dragging him down like an anchor tied to his limbs.

He trails behind himself into the hall and then his usual room, hands held out in front of him in the absence of sight. It takes a minute to find the bed. Once he does, he’s unceremoniously tugging back the covers and collapsing onto the mattress, sleep already overtaking him.

He sighs, half in relief and half in pain, pulling up the covers and-

“Well this is new.”

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.”

Regulus’s skull collides with the headboard before he can form a cohesive thought.

Sleep has made a hasty retreat, driven out by adrenaline and pure fear. The man in his bed—James, to be specific—instinctively shoots a hand out, clasping onto his arm.

“Shit, are you okay?”

“What the fuck are you doing here!?” Regulus whisper-yells, propped halfway up on his arm with the other hand clutching his head.

“What am I doing in my bed?”

Regulus blinks. Fuck. He forgot this bed actually belonged to someone. Not just someone. Of course, never just someone.

“I… forgot you lived here.”

His eyes have adjusted to the darkness, now. He watches James stare at him, dumbfounded, for a few beats. And then he bursts into a fit of laughter.

Of course the fucker is laughing. It blooms on his face like Spring itself; even here, dimly lit and squinting, it’s blinding. Rays of sunlight cutting through his teeth as he gasps for breath inbetween. Flower and leaf and fruit sprouting from his throat, and Regulus is just too tipsy to avoid the vines coiling around him, his arms and legs and chest, taking root in his own throat, planting seeds in his lungs.

He’s too tired to fight the branches stretching out like hands and pulling at the corners of his own lips, coercing a smaller laugh. He doesn’t even think it’s that funny, maybe James is just delirious. Maybe he’s still a little drunk, too.

“You forgot I lived here. In my room. In my apartment.” James relays, his hysterics reigned in to a splitting grin. Blinding, blinding, still blinding. He’s on his side, head resting in his hand—the other hand is still on Regulus, a light touch burning holes through his clothes, the skin on his shoulder, the muscle and bone marrow, planting more seeds, sprouting more life. He’s staring up at Regulus with sparkling eyes. Who gave him this much joy? Who gave him the idea to direct any of it his way?

Even here, in the middle of the night, waking him up just to shed glitter on his clean sheets and yell at him for existing in his own home.

Regulus doesn’t deserve it. But he can’t find it in himself to deny it right now.

“I may have, uh, passed out in here drunk a few times when you weren’t here last year.”

“A few times?” James asked, eyebrows raised, hand still there.

“Ok. Maybe a lot. Forgot it wasn’t actually mine,” Regulus admits, trying not to shortcircuit from the contact. Trying to relocate the mask of indifference he misplaced after the 3rd or 4th shot. He can just barely feel he’s still smiling, stupidly. He can’t find the right muscles to make it go away.

The analog clock on the dresser across the room reads 3:27 AM in a blue glow. Regulus knows the sensible thing to do now is get up, but the soft arms of sleep are extending from somewhere below, furling around his body and pulling down. The mattress, James’s mattress, might be the softest thing he’s ever laid rest on and it’s enveloping him like quicksand. He lets his head drop forward like dead weight as he musters the strength to move.

“Well don’t let me stop you, then,” James says, amusement and something strangely resembling adoration painted on his face. “I can sleep on the couch, if you want.”

It’s all way too casual for the absolutely absurd offer.

Regulus stares at him in disbelief. “You’re just gonna let me kick you out of your own bed.”

James shrugs, “You look comfy.”

There’s the distant hum of a car engine passing outside, an intermittent clicking sound from the run down heater in the room. The window shade is somewhat transparent, which defeats the whole fucking purpose of the thing, much to Regulus’s annoyance—he’s awoken, against his will to many a sunrise in this room—and a nearby streetlight gently pollutes the darkness, illuminating James from behind in a halo of muted yellow light.

“That’s fucking ridiculous,” Regulus replies, still not moving. James laughs softly. A few daisies sprout in the garden growing between them. “Barty and Evan are on the couch, anyway.”

“I’ll take the floor then.”

“You’re not sleeping on the fucking floor for me.”

“Well I’m more than happy to share, then.”

“You’re not- what?” His bemusement distracts him momentarily from the growing effort of keeping his eyes open. James squeezes his shoulder lightly, the bastard, drawing a small breath from him that he hopes to god goes unheard, before finally drawing back his hand.

“I sleep on the floor or we both sleep here. Your choice.”

“And if I sleep on the floor?”

“I’ll still sleep on the floor out of spite. I don’t think you could get up if you tried, right now, anyway.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Regulus groans. He fully collapses in defeat onto the pillow as he says it, which might take some of the edge out of the remark.

“I really don’t mind the floor, love. Good for the back and all. I’ve got tons of extra pillows and blankets, anyway,” James says, gesturing to the floor next to his bed.

“Just sleep in the god damn bed,” Regulus sighs. He shuffles so he’s on his back, one arm bent over his head rather dramatically, and closes his eyes. He’s fully relented in his battle with his own exhaustion now, and it’s closing in fast.

James doesn’t move for a moment. Regulus can feel his gaze like a beam of sunlight through a magnifying glass. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to smell his own clothes begin to smoke in the wake of it. “Are you sure?” he finally asks, playful tone receding. “I just- I should warn you I’m a bit of an.. active sleeper. And I know you don’t always like people touching you-“

“It’s alright when it’s you.”

It comes out nearly a whisper now as he sinks. He’ll blame it on alcohol or delirium, tomorrow, if he’s not outright denying having said it. He doesn’t actually know why he said it out loud. Regulus usually keeps the truth to himself, as a general rule.

The last thing he hears before falling asleep is James’s small intake of breath, followed by a faint “Oh. Yeah?” and then reality rescinds entirely.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Filthy

summary: that’s the thing about illicit affairs, clandestine meetings and longing stares.

pairing: jonathan levy x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, car sex, professor kink, glasses kink?, dirty talk, kissing, creampie, longing, love confessions

wc: 1.7k

an: the professor kink went a little crazy in this one so if that’s not your jam, skipperoni! if it is…enjoy <3

oscar characters masterlist | writing masterlist

This shouldn’t be happening. It shouldn’t.

You shouldn’t be in his car, in his lap— in his vicinity at all because it always leads to something like this. Messy and sloppy and hurried, so desperate. The two of you gave up on resisting this a long time ago, but that doesn’t keep your brain from questioning it.

He’s not even divorced yet, can’t even convince himself to sign the papers given everything that Mira had done. You’re his breath of fresh air, the only thing besides his daughter that makes him feel alive these days. But you’re also his closest colleague’s graduate assistant. The reasons that getting caught would end poorly for both of you are not small, hidden, or easy to brush away.

Those reasons don’t change the delicious way his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs under the skirt you have on. The dip of his tongue into your mouth, licking and searching feverishly. They don’t lessen the arousal sitting in your lower belly. You’re not sure if anything could because when you’re at the center of Jonathan’s attention, it feels like nothing matters beyond the two of you.

You groan into the next kiss, and Jonathan shivers beneath you, some desperate sound of his own echoing into your mouth. Accompanying the intoxicating taste of you is rain on your lips. You’re soaked to the bone, your clothes skintight and a few shades darker from the rain that continues to pour outside of the confines of his car. Every kiss, every touch of his warms you from the inside out.

“We’re committing public indecency,” He murmurs, but he doesn’t stop kissing you, doesn’t stop using his grip on your ass to grind you down against the swell of his clothed cock.

He isn’t wrong but this is the best you could do in a pinch.

Your roommate is another graduate assistant, and though she doesn’t work in your department or Jonathan’s, she’d surely recognize him if you were to bring him over. There’s some unspoken agreement about his place, the house where he lived with Mira. You don’t feel ready to go there yet and thankfully, he isn’t quite ready to let you in. So he picked you up from your apartment complex and drove to the nearest park. Usually, the two of you plan a little better— there’s a long drive a couple hours away, some cozy little Airbnb on the edge of the city with the promise of going unrecognized hanging in the air.

This thing that shouldn’t be happening is practiced, meticulously planned but today is something different. If you weren’t so distracted by the feeling of him against you, you’d ask what has him so riled up. A little voice in your head can guess, but that would just complicate things. Instead, you’d really like to focus on this, that warm feeling he brings, and you hope that his concerns about breaking the law aren’t too intense.

“Do you want to stop?” You ask, breaking the kiss but only to kiss at his neck.

“No, don’t stop, baby. Don’t stop.”

And there is nothing that compares to the sweet sound of Jonathan calling you baby. You've never said no to Jonathan and you don’t plan to start when he begs for you like this.

“Kiss me again.”

Jonathan obliges, grasping the nape of your neck with gentle strength and pulling you forward to kiss you as if he’s trying to consume you.

You use your knees to raise up, sliding your hand between the two of you so that you can palm at his erection through his jeans. He whines into your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip. Both of these things spur you on and your other hand drops from his curls, working with the other to undo his jeans so that you can slip your hand into his boxers.

“You’re so sweet, so soft,” He murmurs as he begins to kiss and bite his way down your neck. You can hear the strain in his voice, how he’s trying his best to keep it steady and show that you aren’t affecting him.

There’s not a world where you have even half the discipline that he does. You are nothing but desperate for him— needy, always prepared to beg and whine until he gives you what you want. But, there’s no harm in trying to make him show how desperate he is for you too.

“Professor, please. I need you.”

“How am I meant to say no to you when you call me that?” He teases the skin of your neck with his teeth and you writhe in his lap, just like he wanted you to.

“You’re never supposed to say no to me, that’s the point, Levy,” You tease, hand tightening around his cock. His hips jump into your touch and you know that if you work just a little harder he’ll be exactly where you want him.

Jonathan’s hand skates up your torso. With your wet shirt, your nipples are practically on display through the fabric and he runs his thumb over one playfully before rolling the peak between his fingers, “And where’s the fun in that? You don’t want to earn it today, sweet girl?”

“No—“ You gasp through short breaths, chest heaving into his touch, “I just want you to give it to me. Please.”

His other hand finds your other breast, his touch more insistent as he pinches your nipple, “Desperate, sweet girl. Tell me what you want, I need to hear it.”

You fix him with that look that you know will get you anything you ask for, “I want your cock, I want you to let me sit on it.”

“You’re so fucking filthy, so needy for me aren’t you?”

“Yes, Jonathan, please.”

And while he thoroughly enjoys the way you call him professor, or Levy, his name rolling off your tongue makes his heart skip like he’s some teenage girl having her first kiss. Any teasing and pretense of having discipline go right out the window. His hands are gentle but sure as he moves yours out of his boxers and lifts you to bare himself to you.

“Are you ready? Can I—“

“Yes, please, fucking yes.”

Jonathan uses one hand to line himself up with your entrance, the other immediately gripping your hip and sliding you down onto the length of his cock. The kiss you two share is hardly that, but messy teeth and tongues that meet as you both moan.

“Ride me,” He says against your mouth. He wants it to sound like a demand but you both know what it is. He’s finally just as desperate as you are— he’s begging.

There’s nothing in you that wants to fight him, there never is, all you want is more and more of him— whatever you can get because despite the passion, the ease of spending time with him, there’s a little voice in the back of your mind that screams this is temporary.

It’s unhealthy to think that each time you and Jonathan fuck it might be the last, but you refuse to take him or any moment spent with him for granted. You place one hand on his shoulder, the other reaching back to find purchase on the dash so that you can bounce on his cock in earnest.

“Fuck, your pussy is so good, it’s made for me,” He groans.

Your eyes are glued to his face, drinking in the sight of him. He rests his head back against the seat rest, mouth ajar. His glasses are propped up on the crown of his head so as not to fog up, and a light goes off in your head. Shifting most of your weight onto your thighs you swipe the glasses from his head, sliding them onto your face.

The sound he makes has you upset that you haven’t thought of this move sooner. His hips snap up into you harder, making you yelp as the tip of his cock presses against the spot deepest inside of you.

He’s breathless as he says, “Oh god, you filthy fucking girl.”

“Do they suit me, professor?” You pant with a smirk.

His eyes go dark, as he gazes at you from under his lashes, “All of this suits you, everything about us together suits you. My name in your mouth, my cock in your pussy, all of it.”

His words make your head spin, and you quickly remove the glasses so that you can kiss him properly, smashing your mouth to his. You roll your hips, taking him as deep as you can before you start to rock, bouncing in his lap once more.

The back and forth between you dissolves into a frantic madness, both of your bodies focused simply on giving and receiving pleasure. His hands find your hips, helping you bounce more quickly and firmly as both of your breaths go shallow and whiny. The pleasure in your lower belly builds, chugging higher and higher each time you come down against him. You’re surrounded by the smell of sex, the sound of it, the heat of it. The windows fog and with each thrust of his hips up against you there’s the sound of skin on skin, of how incredibly wet you are for him.

“Jonathan, I’m—“

“You’re so close aren’t you, baby? Gonna cum for me so I can fill you up nice and deep? So I can make you mine again?”

“M-make me yours,” You repeat his words but your version is a beg, full of desperation.

He shushes you, hand sliding between your slick bodies to find your clit, “Let me help, let me give you what you need.”

Despite the soft gentleness of his fingers against your clit, the shockwaves of pleasure they provide melt away the last of the barriers between you and your orgasm. You melt around him, so warm and tight as you cum with a soft cry. It’s impossible for him to resist, and he joins you, body going stiff as he fills you up.

“I love you,” He whispers unthinkingly in the postcoital haze.

“I love you too,” You whisper back easily, leaning forward to rest against his chest.

Neither of you allow that usual feeling of dread of returning to your lives as they are— of having to deny each other day in and day out— to settle in. Instead, you let the softness in, the love so young and new but no less meaningful. He holds you right, like he’ll never let you go. And for the moment, you let him.

if you’d like to be on my jonathan levy/oscar issac taglist lmk!

jonathan levy taglist: @honeybrowne, @angelfxllcm, @sweetascherrylies, @hotchs-bitch, @jakelcckley, @mrspector, @jitterbugs927, @myorestes, @winwin70 , @ninebluehearts, @whatthefishh, @fanofverymanythings, @marc-spectorr, @toracainz, @rmoonstoner, @roseqzpd, @mccn-bcys, @campingwiththecharmings

[haveyouanytime]

lazy kisses in the morning with rick grimes

౨ৎ daily click to help palestine 🍉

You stirred as you felt the bed dip with new weight. You hadn’t even noticed he had left, but Rick made his presence known as he slowly climbed back under the comforter. The sunlight peeked in through the sheer curtains, turning the white sheets a faint shade of gold. You glanced over to the clock on the bedside table, sighing as you realized you slept in. You moved to sit up but were stopped and held down by the weight of Rick’s arm over your chest. 

“Stay.” He commanded, his voice quiet but firm. You laid back down, weighed down by him as he adjusted himself to rest his head on your shoulder with his arm anchoring you down as it rested along your chest. You appeased him for a minute or two, watching as his back rose and fell with his even breathing as he seemingly fell back asleep before your mind began to list all of the things you needed to do. 

You placed a gentle hand on Rick’s bare shoulder, softly speaking, “Rick, darling, I need to get up. The kids-” 

“Already fed. Carl’s watching Judith, don’t worry.” Rick cut you off with a mumble, placing a strong hand on your waist to turn you towards him. “There’s food still on the stove for whenever we get up.”

Now lying on your side, you were face-to-face with Rick. You couldn’t help but softly smile, moving your hands to cup his face. His eyes fluttered open, revealing his blue eyes that met your own. He whispered, “Stay.” 

You nodded, your thumbs brushing along the short hairs below his cheekbone as you tenderly cupped his jaw. You slowly leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. You slowly leaned back, meeting his eyes again. You then leaned in, turning your head slightly to place a gentle kiss on the space of his neck below his jawline. You leaned back, before leaning in again. As if he could read your mind, his eyes fluttered shut as you placed one last light kiss on his eyelid. 

As you leaned back, Rick’s eyes slowly opened again. With a small smile, Rick leaned in to do the same, beginning by placing a soft kiss on the corner of your lips. Just as slow and mild as you did before, he followed with a gentle kiss on your neck just below your jawline, then your eyelid. 

Now simply staring into one another’s eyes, you and Rick let your eyes flutter closed as you slowly leaned in until your lips gently met. Slowly and lazily moving, neither bothered to deepen the kiss just yet. Rick’s hands just moved to grab your waist, slipping under your loose sleep shirt as your hands rested on his bare chest. A slow, loving morning only Alexandria could bring.

[polarisbibliotheque]

Hey Polaris, hope this helps as a vent piece:

Anger is one of the main traits of demons. Everyone's anger has manifested outward at least some point yet, one person keeps it under Heavy lock and key, Dante.

One day, the anger manifests in its destructive, gruesome and targeted anger in his Sin Devil Trigger as it manifests when that last patient strand snaps.

So here's the prompt:

As Reader wakes up from a hard hit, once fully back to full consciousness, they witness that destructive rage that Dante kept under lock and key. Nearby, Vergil is protectively standing in front of Reader but something's wrong, his hands quivering as he keeps Yamato out in front of him. The real question now pops into Reader's head, how do you calm to a blazing inferno that's unrestrained and now in full swing?

Dante going on a full Sin Devil Trigger rampage (or, very angry Dante)

Pairing: Dante x Reader

Summary: Vergil wasn't one to fear easily - but one thing he would always dread to see; and that would be Dante losing his humanity.

Trigger Warning: Reader stops breathing and is seemingly dead for a while. Lots of blood, lots of anger, lots of self-loathing on this one (they all need therapy)

Author's Note: Oh boy, this was a conversation I was having with dear Fury: how Dante is 10/10 the scariest when he's mad because he keeps his demon on a leash *cough* Subhuman *cough* and he's the one everyone should fear when going berserk, not Vergil. With all the requests I'm having, currently, Fury decided to leave this suggestion out until I had a little more time to write...

Fast forward a few weeks, I'm having issues with a couple of ~friends~ and, honestly, I haven't been this angry in years. To the point of trembling, laughing like a maniac, and wanting to fistfight the gods. Hence, Fury sent me this vent piece so I could satisfy my wrath in a more ~healthy~ way. Hope you guys like it, though, Dante needs a big ol' hug and someone to openly cry too, not just Vergil.

Again, they all need therapy

Not many things could stir fear in Vergil’s heart.

Mundus’ voice, silently taunting him in the back of his head, the memory of everything he had been through in Hell was one of those things. The other one was his twin’s fury.

It was a rare thing for him to grip Yamato with an unsteady pair of hands, putting a lot of effort and strength for them not to tremble – but the sight of Dante completely lost in his bloodlust was not to be trifled with.

The first time Vergil saw it with his own eyes was in Hell, when he and his brother spent a considerable amount of time to cut down the Qliphoth. Vergil was used to the taunts of demons and Dante was as well… Or at least he should be, at that point in their lives.

But the taunts were many. They had been running through the fields of fire without sleep for a couple of days – in the human world, probably, as time had a different flow in Hell – killing everything in sight; and hearing every kind of putrid taunt they could.

What made Dante snap, though, was a simple implication: that it was Dante’s fault that Vergil fell and got subdued by Mundus, suffering endless nightmares for years to come. A strange glint sparked in Dante’s eyes at that moment. The scream that rumbled in his chest was enough to be heard through many layers of Hell.

It wasn’t Dante’s fault, Vergil knew that very well. He had refused to hold his brother’s hand, there was nothing Dante could have done. It was Vergil’s choice, and his sin only. But… For the first time, he saw how much his brother blamed himself for that. How much Dante had suffered, all those years, alone in the human world.

As above, so below… Dante suffered alongside Vergil all those years.

And all of that because of a stupid, childish decision from Vergil’s part. He observed Dante in shock as that realization came down on him – and as he watched the prized human heart of his twin brother seemingly disappear, giving place to a blind, bloodthirsty demon in full Sin Devil Trigger fashion, killing everything in his path.

Vergil stayed away from the destruction, always keeping an eye on his brother… If he could call him that. Dante – the foolish, laidback, talkative, jack of all trades, witty and quippy brother he knew – seemingly was nowhere to be seen. He was gone, and everything left was his demon, with a never-ending thirst for blood.

Not that Vergil hadn’t had moments like those, but he was always alone. He would always find the end of his rage on the floor, exhausted, weak and cold. And so, he waited for Dante’s wrath to wear off – patiently, observing with a heavy heart, sorrow and guilt.

He didn’t enjoy seeing his brother like that.

That was the reason why, when Nico put to vote who was the scariest when angry, you threw your vote at Dante. You and the rest of the crew, except for the Spardas, decided to have a night out at a local diner, just to wind down and have a bit of fun – that sort of talk was a given when you were together.

“Dante, really?” Lady raised one of her eyebrows, staring at you with nothing but doubt in her multicolored eyes. “He can’t hurt even a fly!” When she said that, though, all of the eyes of the group turned at her in disbelief. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been hunting with him for a while. Dante can be a weapon of mass destruction, but he just… He doesn’t have that heart.”

“Hmmm… I think I have to agree with you on that one.” Trish slowly stirred her chocolate milkshake as Lady thanked with a sip of her vanilla one. “Look, I saw him killing Mundus. I saw Dante fighting the greatest and worst of Hell. He can be dangerous, but his human heart doesn’t let him be scary.”

“That is exactly my point.” You were ready to defend your thesis like a lawyer at court.

“Then why the hell would you vote for him as the scariest?” Nico didn’t have a cigarette on her hands because she had been forbidden to smoke inside the diner, but if she had, she would have been pointing at you with it. “Big flamin’ demon got nothin’ on Vergil, that one’s got the eyes of a killer. Got you chillin’ just by lookin’ at you.”

“Vergil doesn’t control his anger that much – I go as far as saying he doesn’t control himself as much as Dante.” And with those words, you won all the shocked looks you could at that evening. You would count that as a feat. “Is Dante a fool of a Tûk, as my dear Gandalf would say? Yes, he is. Is Vergil a walking death omen? Yes, he also is. But, I have talked to him about Dante being angry, and Vergil gave me enough hints to make it very clear Dante doesn’t let all his feelings out – he chooses to pass as a very aloof himbo of a man, but he is far from that. I’ve been his partner for enough time to say I agree with Vergil.”

“You might have a point.” Kyrie took a sip of her strawberry milkshake, as you let a triumphant smile take over your lips. “Dante might be playful, but we all know he has very deep emotions underneath that. It’s just like with Nero and his punk attitude.”

“But instead, he’s a cinnamon bun on the inside.” Nico topped Kyrie’s phrase, provoking some laughs on the group. That was the most accurate description of Nero if you had ever seen one.

“Dante loves his human heart, but he has a certain beef with his demonic one.” You wouldn’t say to the whole group you went as far as to believe he actually loathed his demonic heritage, as that was something too personal, but you had a hunch they all had some suspicions of that deep inside. “He keeps it in check, hidden, tamed. He lashes out when it’s a good time to do so – when fighting demons.” As you started getting some hums of agreement, you sneakily took Trish’s milkshake. “We have never seen Dante actually angry. And I don’t think we ever will.”

“Oh, now you’re makin’ it difficult.” Nico had to ponder those words, even if she couldn’t really see Dante being as dangerous as you said.

“Eh, not for me. I’m still going with Vergil.” Lady shrugged, firm on her opinion as always.

You took a little longer to get to the final vote – discussing what you had just said, as Trish called you out for stealing her milkshake and having it back, only to share it with you – but the answer was almost unanimous: the scariest one on a fit of wrath was Vergil.

Almost, because you kept adamant in voting on your red devil.

Vergil never came to know about all of that, but if he did, he would have agreed with you – not publicly, as he would hold his new title with pride, always content on inspiring fear as a way to keep himself and his loved ones protected. He would, however, agree with you privately, remembering Dante’s display of wrath in Hell.

That was the reason why his hands trembled on Yamato during your latest hunt together – the one where everything went wrong.

If only you would wake up. Maybe he could save Dante’s soul.

It all happened so fast, Vergil didn’t even see how things ended the way they were at the moment. On one second you were fighting by their side, on the other, you were tossed on the floor, soaked in your own blood, chest immobile. Not breathing.

“Y/n! No, y/n!” It was the very first time Vergil saw Dante dropping everything to run towards you. His brother let go of his sword, ignored all demons around and ran as if you were the only being in that godforsaken place. Vergil had to put himself between him and the demons, keeping them at bay as Dante quickly made his way to you. “Y/n! C’mon, babe! Y/n!”

Dante’s knees hit the floor with a loud thud as he dropped all his weight by your side – not feeling anything at the moment, but it would certainly leave a couple of horrid bruises. As his sky-blue eyes met that harrowing sight, desolation filled his face; Dante forgot how to breath for a split second, barely feeling his very own hands, legs tingling as his body seemed to sink in the ground even further.

Vergil stated the very same thing his brother did – and he never thought he could feel that way with the thought of losing you; but there was Vergil, with numbness on his fingers and a sickness in his stomach. You were the little light that Dante had found in his life, one of the only good things that had happened to him during all his damned years of living. Vergil knew how important you were, how only you could make Dante smile with a sincerity he only had seen when they were kids. What would be of his brother – his foolish, stupid, beloved brother – if he lost you to demons as well…?

The answer would come very soon, but not without a fight from Dante’s side.

“C’mon, y/n, open your eyes…!” Dante’s voice trembled, in a way Vergil had never listened to before. He watched as his twin brother desperately tried to bring you back, heavy hands massaging your chest, followed by breathing inside your mouth, and repeating once more. “C’mon, babe… Don’t leave me here…!” Those words were a whisper as he trembled trying to make your heart beat again, giving his breath to you once more so you could also breathe.

The realization washed Dante’s body as a cold wave, as he slowly felt he wasn’t in his body anymore – his body feeling your weight on his hands, but his soul completely out. Maybe flying away to meet yours wherever you were.

But then, a twisted symphony of distorted cackles and mockery ripped through his ears – the realization also came to the demons, and now they gloated with their first victory. Not only that, but humiliated the son of Sparda for losing his own beloved just like his father had lost Eva.

Vergil was ready to unsheathe Yamato and unleash all his fury to cut those demons in million pieces for that lack of respect – and to allow his brother to mourn properly. He himself had to mourn: you were too precious at the Devil May Cry for Vergil not to feel your loss.

But he wouldn’t need that. A deep growl grabbed the Dark Slayer’s attention, making him immediately turn to his brother. Dante got up from the floor with nothing but rage in his eyes bleeding tears, bare teeth as his demonic heritage boiled to rip through his skin and unleash all its fury on his enemies.

If only Dante had waited a single second, he would have realized what Vergil did. He would have heard a faint heartbeat – trembling, but fighting to survive. He would have seen your broken body trying to breath underneath the blood.

Dante killed the first demons with their own weapons, running towards his sword with a scream that only grew in strength. Vergil kneeled by your side, checking your pulse on your neck, staining his hands with your blood but stating what made his heart beat faster: you weren’t lost. Dante had to know.

The floor rumbled. As Vergil turned his attention towards Dante, he immediately turned back to you to protect you with his body. Dante’s scream thundered through the floor, as if it came from the deepest pits of Hell itself – and a thousand degrees exploded in sparks and molten lava as his Sin Devil Trigger took the place of the man who stood there before.

Vergil was used to the flames of Hell, they would not hurt him. But he wasn’t used to the wrath of his brother – and that might be something none of you would be able to recover. Vergil could take the heat of the explosion that took down many demons in its wake, but your human body couldn’t – and that was the reason why he had to do everything in his power to protect you.

Those silvery eyes turned back at Dante, still keeping a protective arm above you. Usually predatorial, now Vergil had nothing but worry in his gaze, watching with desolation as his brother became the bloodthirsty ruthless demon he never was.

In that state, Dante could make mistakes. He could hit you without even realizing. A misplaced use of his power, a wrong swing of his blade, another explosion of million degrees into hellish flames… Vergil could survive, not you. And, if Dante, who hadn’t realized yet you weren’t lost as he thought you were, ended up being the real reason of your demise…

Vergil didn’t even want to think what would happen.

For all he could see at that moment was a demon fiercely fighting other demons – or, better yet, easily subduing and mercilessly slaughtering all of them. And that was something that was so intrinsic to Dante’s heart: his mercy. Having Dante without his mercy, his kindness, his gentleness, his love, was the same as not having him at all… That was the source of his power, like rage was the source of Vergil’s power.

Watching his brother lost in wrath was heart wrenching, but knowing it could get even worse if he was to completely lose his soul was even more harrowing. Dante’s eyes bled his pain, even in that form, as he soaked his whole self in the viscous blood of his enemies – a monster beyond salvation, a creature without a soul, a lover without a heart. A man with his fragile hope crashed into pieces, abandoning everything that made him who he was, to allow himself to find some comfort through burning his own wrath.

For the first time, it downed on Vergil his brother might not come back. If he lost you, if Dante fatally wounded you, Vergil would never have him again – for Dante would lose the very last brink of humanity inside of him; a brink that Vergil couldn’t even see at that moment and didn’t even know if it was still there. Dante’s eyes were red, his growls distorted and animalistic, his power… Greater than Mundus, greater than even Sparda.

If Dante approached, Vergil would have to fight him. His brother wasn’t in a leveled state of mind to see logic – and he could hurt you, even if Dante would never do that. With all that blind wrath, though, Vergil didn’t even know if his brother would answer if he called.

Holding Yamato with a stronger grip than usual, Vergil stood in front of your body, guarding you from whatever harm that could come your way – be it in demon form… Or in his own twin brother form.

The cold hand of fear, though, slowly crept into his heart and held it on its stark clutches. Yes, Vergil spent his whole life sparring with that fool he had to call his brother – hearing Dante’s taunts and impossible physics, as if he didn’t even make an effort to make Vergil look like a complete buffoon during the fight, no matter how much technique and skill he had – but never Vergil imagined not having that.

Having Dante was a given. Fighting him was a given. Bantering, arguing, sparring, behaving like the bickering old set of twin brothers that they were. Vergil could say he wanted to defeat Dante, but he never wanted to get rid of him. What would his life be without his stupid brother?

Empty. Silent. Cold. Devoid of color.

Dante couldn’t go. And, most of all, he couldn’t go by Vergil’s hands. But if he was too much of a lose canon, if he was too far gone in his demonic frenzy, Vergil would have to put a stop to it…

Like Dante did with him as Nelo Angelo so many years before.

Vergil had to hold the cry that seemed to want to force its way out of his throat – holding back the tears that now glistened in his eyes. He was the most foolish of all… He was responsible for putting Dante on the same situation he found himself in at the moment – and just now he understood how harrowing, how painful and how much of a hell Dante had to go through.

Alone. Just like Vergil was alone in Hell – as above so below, the twins mirroring each other’s fates, on their realms and heritage of preference.

They weren’t so different after all.

As you started to hear the chaos around you once again, your head was spinning viciously and the pain that spread inside your lungs made you think you were going to explode. With an almost inaudible moan, you felt tears streaming down your eyes as you tried to open them, seemingly inhaling blood and pain every time you tried to breathe. You could feel you were covered in something wet and sometimes sticky, but it took some time for you to raise a trembling hand in front of your barely focusing eyes to realize it was blood.

Were you dead…? What had happened…? You could barely remember. You didn’t even know what hit you: suddenly everything turned black and now you were feeling like a bulldozer went over your body and somehow you managed to survive. Perhaps you didn’t, but if you were dead, you wouldn’t be feeling that much pain… At least, that was what people always said that happened after departing from the human world.

Plus, you could still hear the demons – but now, screaming in fear and trying to run away from something that was growling in such an inhuman tone, you wondered if you guys had accidentally summoned something bigger. By the noise, it had to be. The likes of Mundus and the other Kings of Hell – Vergil being the smallest of them, but still as deadly.

Perhaps it was Vergil…? To be fair, though, he never went all out without a really good reason. Maybe he thought you were dead? He appreciated you as much as a brother would appreciate his twin’s partner, but you didn’t expect him to have such a visceral reaction to your death; Unless…

You widened your eyes as your whole body seemed to be washed by a cold wave followed by a lightening that made you tingle from head to toes. Your heart sunk in your chest and the painful breaths you tried before were all but gone. Vergil would have a visceral reaction if he lost his brother. And that, you couldn’t even fathom: life without Dante didn’t exist… Or, at least, it would be something you wouldn’t want to go through.

You forced your body up, slowly turning to one side and barely using your arm to keep your weight as you tried to see what was going on. You had to find him, you had to find Dante. You would crawl to his body, you would shake him around as you could, you would give him your breath, you would give him your soul – but you would try everything to bring him back. You would hold him as tight as you could, you would cry over him, and there wouldn’t be a living or dead thing in this world that would be able to part you from him.

You widened your eyes once more when you saw Vergil keeping your body as a guardian warrior and the source of the chaos and destruction was your beloved red devil – lost in a frenzy, dripping with blood, eyes melting like lava and nothing of human in them.

You had never seen Dante like that.

“Verge…” You tried to cough the word out, but it was nothing more than a dying whisper. You couldn’t see how the blue devil furrowed his brows, thinking he might be hearing things – until you allowed a harsher breath to hurt your lungs so you could try to raise your trembling voice higher. “Vergil…!”

He turned his head enough to see you in the corner of his eyes – doing his best to still keep Dante in his sight. A wave of euphoria washed through Vergil’s body as his hands seemed to get steadier around Yamato: he was right, you were alive. As the fighter you were, the survivor you were… You were breathing and doing your best to get back on your feet again.

“Y/n…” But he couldn’t even talk: the floor rumbled again and Vergil knew what was coming. You placed your hands on the ground, widening your eyes and furrowing your brows, having never felt that before.

For a split second, you caught a glimpse of what was going on: Dante harnessing his power, ready to explode. You had never saw that. You had never saw his eyes devoid of his humanity. You had never seen your Dante as a complete demon like it was happening at that moment.

And, something that you had never been conscious to witness, Vergil threw himself over you to protect your body from his brother’s wrath. You had to cower behind his frame, gripping Vergil’s coat lapel for dear life, but still feeling the burning of a thousand degrees engulf you.

The blue devil didn’t even waver – but both of you had something in your eyes… The dread of the harrowing knowledge that that was Dante. All that destruction, that chaos, that blood… It was all Dante.

You were right, after all. His rage was the scariest to see.

“I need t-…” Your voice was raspy, having to stop mid phrase to cough some more blood that needed to come out of your lungs. “I need to talk to him.” You tried to take a deep breath, but once again it just stopped with a harsh sting on your chest. “He needs to know I’m alive.”

“Hmmm.” Vergil agreed with his head, but you knew he was still pondering what you had said. He helped you up on your feet – doing more of the work than you, easily lifting your body with his strength. “Dante isn’t himself at the moment…” Again, Vergil stood in front of you like a guardian, gripping the Yamato with both hands as soon as he saw you could stand by yourself. If you faltered, though, he was quick enough to hold you. “You must keep that in mind.”

“I know… And I am scared.” You answered in a whisper, looking over Vergil’s shoulder only to see Dante mercilessly slaughtering the last unlucky demons. “But it’s still Dante.”

Vergil didn’t know what to do, if he was being honest with himself. He could have held you back and kept you safe, as his demonic side told him to do, but something inside told him he should let you do what you had to do. Those silvery eyes watched as you bravely walked in haste towards danger; towards hell and doom, ready to embrace it… And willing to make it stop.

“Dante! Dante, love!” You kept calling, but, as Vergil feared before, his brother didn’t respond. He was too far gone, too lost in Hell to come back that easily. Vergil followed your steps slowly, lingering like a shadow behind you… Ready to do whatever he needed to do if Dante’s demon didn’t even recognize you in that blind rage. “Dante! You can stop now… Dante!”

With all the filthy bloody corpses piling up on the floor, that flaming red-hot demonic figure slowly turned its head towards you. Covered in blood, sword dripping with red, molten lava eyes raining all its hollow pain. Expressionless, as he always was on his Sin Devil Trigger, made of fire and coal, hate and rage.

Did he recognize you…? Did he understand what was going on…? Vergil’s grip on Yamato got stronger, ready to unleash a blow on his brother in order to protect you. What you were doing was a gamble – and one with not so nice odds to you. There was a reason why Vergil let Dante’s anger wear out when they were in Hell: he knew there was a good chance Dante wouldn’t even recognize him at the height of his wrath, just like it happened with Vergil on those situations. So, to say the moment at hand was dangerous was a serious understatement.

But humans would always be fascinating, wouldn’t they…? At least, that was what Vergil thought. That towering demon with a flaming chest and leathery wings turned towards you, carrying his huge sword dripping with demonic blood, doing nothing but heavy breathing – and you decided to fearlessly walk towards it.

Humans.

Vergil kept his distance, watching it all unfolding with a weary heart and a trigger hand at ready to fight his brother – to death, if he unfortunately needed to – in order to protect you. He couldn’t have the certainty you had, as your steps kept going in Dante’s direction.

Your legs were shaking, your knees were trembling, but… It was your lover. It was Dante. No matter how much he was lost into his frenzy and wrath, you had to believe his heart would remember you. His soul. It all happened because he thought he had lost you, he had to come back upon knowing you were alright.

It didn’t matter how horrid his wrath looked like, you knew he was in there somewhere.

“Dante… It’s me, I’m alright…” Your voice was still a whisper, unable to speak too loud, but also trying to soothe the anger in his heart. You hesitantly reached out to him, making a growl rumble inside his chest and your steps stop for a while – with Vergil half-unsheathing his sword, ready to fight. “Love…” You called again, breathing as deeply as you could, resuming your walking and extending your hand towards him. “My Dante…”

You were finally at arm’s reach. Vergil held his breath, eyebrows furrowed, silvery predator eyes fixated on what was supposed to be his brother. You raised your hand higher, resting it on Dante’s face.

His Sin Devil Trigger form was nothing but rough. His skin seemed like hard leather and rocky coal, burning so hot it could almost hurt your hand. You wouldn’t back down though: compared to him, you were soft and cold, too fragile and breakable; but you wouldn’t leave. You caressed his rough face, fingers feeling the sharp teeth, the spiky crevices, the unwelcoming features of a face made in Hell.

You felt, though, an unlikely moisture reaching your fingers: a droplet, running from those fiery, empty eyes – those inhuman eyes. You looked at it running through your fingers to the back of your hand, looking back into those frightening eyes that had nothing of a soul in them…

But he was there, wasn’t he? It was him, a part of him that Dante always fought so relentlessly to keep hidden, to keep on a tight leash in the deepest corner of his self. You could see Dante in those eyes – and, as soon as that realization washed through the demon’s body, his head leaned into your hand.

With a flaming spark, the red devil was gone and you had the man back: tired, desolated, falling apart. Dante still leaned his head into your hand – now with soft skin, smooth lips, closed eyes and flowy white hair – almost like an animal that had never been touched with kindness in a whole lifetime. As he opened his eyes, you could see the redness of his tears crowning those sky-blue tones you always loved so much… And there was nothing but fragile vulnerable humanity in them.

“Hi, cowboy…” You whispered with a shadow of a smile on your lips, while your very eyes poured tears – you didn’t know what kind of tears, though, if of happiness, sadness, desperation, pity or love. Maybe all of them at the same time: it was inherently human to feel more than words could describe. You caressed his face as Dante himself started to pour all of his feelings out – this time, not in a fit of rage. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“I thought I lost you.” His coarse voice came through as if Dante had been weeks without speaking and his very own vocal cords were barely working. You didn’t doubt his body would be in pain after all he had been through during… That. “I thought… You were gone. I’d never see you again, you were… Like… Like…” Dante closed his eyes again, head hanging low. He could barely breathe as the words fought to get out of his chest and stop suffocating him. His tears hitting the floor while you took his hair out of the way so you could see his face – there was nothing but pain; a pain that hadn’t been healed since he was a child. “Like everyone in my damned fuckin’ life; those things… I thought they had extinguished… Your light, like everyone… Like everyone eventually does… By my side…”

That was rare. Very rare. Dante was very honest with his feelings and usually didn’t hide anything from you, but not to that point – the point where he would honestly and openly say how much he thought he was the thing that doomed everyone else who decided to live with him or be friends with him. That loathing he had inside his heart, that he hid so carefully, it wasn’t something he would say out loud – it was something you knew because you always understood him so well.

You let go of his hair and locked your arms around his large frame, resting your head on his chest – you could hear his heart beating, his human heart. Dante hesitated for the very first time in his life, keeping his arms by your side for a split second, his teary eyes shocked with your reaction.

After all, you had just seen his absolute worst. All the things he always smothered so much inside himself, keeping them on check, always so controlled. You had seen it in all its spiteful and horrid glory – and your reaction was to embrace him instead of running away. Dante expected you to run, it would honestly be the logic and most human thing to do after seeing all of that.

But you walked towards him with your heart beating in fear, touching his face to grab him out of the pit of wrath he was buried into, holding him tightly in your arms as he broke down in all his anger, misery, trauma and self-loathing.

It lasted a split of a second indeed – for soon Dante’s strong arms were wrapped around your fragile body, keeping you close and safe from harm… As well as having his face buried on your neck, crying all that smothered pain inside of his heart out. Your bodies were too exhausted to keep standing for too long – so when your knees wavered, Dante did the same and you kneeled on the floor, never letting go of each other; Dante holding you as tight as he could, promising himself he would never let go.

Vergil could finally put Yamato to rest. When they were in Hell, he allowed his brother’s rage to wear off while observing from afar. This time, he could do the same: guarding you and quietly keeping you both safe and sound.

A sad ghost of a smile graced the Dark Slayer’s lips as he calmly observed you. Maybe his brother was right after all, and he could only wish someday he would be as strong as Dante to carry such power.

A human heart.

[finemealprompt]

DP x DC Prompt #88

Superman didn’t know how to handle having a clone. He was fighting the urge to get close to Kon, guide him in a way no one had been able to Clark, with feeling violated every time he saw the boy. He didn’t want to hate Kon, but he didn’t know how to balance his own emotions. 

When Clark admits this to Batman, he suggests someone who can help: Phantom. Dani Phantom.

[thlayli-ra]

'Three Strays'

For @ripleyflair @paladinofmoonlight @rheastwin17 and everybody else who requested a soft Punkintyre pic. This one is from the Stray AU. (I took some creative licence with Larry's colouring to tone him in)

[acerunaway]

only one bed trope

[silkentine]

The difference between Mother and Mom.

Don’t worry, they’ll figure it out eventually (let’s hope it’s not too late…)

Read To Be Warm in the Cold by @okiedoketm here!

[rickswh0r3]

he’s talking about me btw😚😚

taglist : @versatilehater @ilovedilfstoomuch @taylormarieee @r0ck-n-r011 @nadiasgf

if you want to join the taglist comment here

[siriuslygay1981]

Word count- 1066

TW- choking, talk of k!ling, Sorta NSFW , obsessed JEGULUS! Based off of this post

A/N this may have gone out of my hands....it went in a direction I didn't intend TBH... But I still like it very much! Thank you SM @tenakiie for letting me do a microfic for it! I've been trying to find inspo for a writing thing and this was perfect! The art is absolutely lovely :))

Read below the cut!

Regulus let's his hands travel up James's chest, marveling at the way James arches up into his touch. The small gasp that leaves his lips makes regulus groan. He lets out a shaky breath, his chest feels tight with overwhelming emotion.

They had been laying there for a while now, lips touching hands roaming. The two talked and talked and then just laid beside the other.

But as Regulus laid there, thinking of their relationship and how James made him feel, he was angry he was overfilling with love and he couldn't get the thought that he wanted to hurt James. Just a little. Just a small bit of pain. How else could he get this pressure off of his chest but to pinch his arm, bite his shoulder? Maybe...wrap his hands around his neck and squeeze...just for a moment.

Which unsurprisingly is what Regulus ends up doing. He straddles James and loosely wraps his hands around his neck. He frowns down at James who just smiles up at him, eyes trusting and so so soft. It makes the itch harder to resist, he clenches his teeth.

"I want to kill you." He says it softly, says it without even realizing. It's too late to take back now, it's in the air and he's sure James heard it. They're too close to not have.

James rests his hands on Regulus' thighs, squeezes softly before replying

"I'm yours." He says softly "I'm all yours."

His eyes are soft, crinkled at the side, his smile dopey and warm. One hand slides up to his hip and he rubs his thumb comfortingly. Regulus tightens his hands slightly in response and leans down so they're face to face, mere inches apart, but James doesn't even flinch, just traces his eyes across Regulus' face.

"You could...if you wanted to." James whispers, his voice slightly hoarse because of the pale hands still putting pressure on his throat

Regulus tilts his head, he keeps eye contact with James and scoots forward before knocking their foreheads together

"Your friends would kill me if I did..." He says as if he would actually go through with it.

"No." James says his eyes suddenly dark

"I wouldn't let them."

Regulus almost laughs, he tightens his grip again, his thumbs pushing slightly against his Adams apple

"You wouldn't be there to stop them though..." He whispers

Biting his lip he watches James's face twitch, he's angry. Regulus licks his lips and sighs. He can feel James swallow beneath his fingertips, he watches closely as James struggles to speak for a moment.

"You won't be harmed....even if I have to come back from the fucking dead."

Regulus gasps and loosens his hold. Looking down at James, James watches him closely, he rubs a soothing hand up Regulus' back

"No one will touch you.." He says, his voice is thick and scratchy.

Regulus leans closer and tilts his head to the right, his eyes half lidded. Their noses touch, he can feel James's hot breath against his mouth.

"What about you?" He asks huskily

James grips regulus tightly for a moment, conflict briefly flashing in his eyes

"Not even me, not if you don't want me to." He says firmly

Regulus brushes his thumb against James's throat again

"And if I told you right now not to touch me?" He asks, curious to his answer

James let's his hands fall to the side, his breathing heavy and a frown on his face

"Then I won't."

Regulus swallows hard, his eyelashes fluttering

"if I said you never could again?" His voice is low and raspy

James heaves in breath after breath below him, trying to regain some air he must've lost

"If that's what you want love....that's what you'll have."

Regulus watches James' Adams apple bob up and down for a moment he rests his thumb there and almost grins when James stops breathing, stops moving all together.

"I'm going to kiss you now.." Regulus murmurs against James's lips.

He watches the way James's eyes dilate, he groans in the back of his throat.

"God please do-" he whimpers

Regulus leans down and kisses James, his unoccupied hand going to his messy hair and tugging lightly. James gasps and arches up a bit. Regulus grins against his lips and bites James's bottom lip before pulling back slightly.

He lets go and squeezes his hand around James's neck when he sees his bottom lip plump. James makes a small choking sound which makes Regulus immediately loosen his grip, afraid he might've hurt him

James shakes his head lightly, his hand jumping to Regulus' wrist, he pauses before their skin can touch, let's his hand hover for a moment before dropping it

"No...it's ok." He murmurs, his dark eyes staring up at regulus

Regulus tilts his head back and groans, he squeezes his thighs against James's side and let's his head fall back down

"You can touch me James" he whispers, his eyes still closed

James grips the back of Regulus' neck and pulls him down so they're chest to chest again

"I wouldn't be able to live without you. If you told me to never touch you, I wouldn't lay a finger on you baby. Just as long as I can see you, be near you...fuck just hearing your voice would be fine-"

He sucks a breath in, one hand gripping Regulus' hip

"I might not survive it...but if that's what you want...I'd cut my hands off to keep that promise."

Their lips brush against one another, regulus let's out a sigh before kissing James with all the overwhelming, all consuming feelings inside of him. James responds in kind, his hands gripping regulus and pulling him closer, closer,closer as if to weld them together. To have their body stuck together irreversibly.

Neither would mind, some days Regulus is sure he'd let James consume him entirely, pretending as if he hadn't already. They were both willing to do whatever the other wanted, willing to follow one another to the ends of the universe. Destined to intertwine and connect, to never be separated. It would be unkind, would be cruel to rip regulus away from James, to take away the very air he breathes. He would not survive it, Regulus would not live in a world where James wasn't his and vice versa.