Summary: You wait months and years for every time you see him, Vergil always comes back the same, and leaves the same.
Contents: angst, hurt/comfort, Vergil’s great communication skills, unhappy ending, slight sexual tension, non sexual (kinda) bathing together, mentions of the reader being Nero’s mother, maybe OOC, post DMC5.
Notes: hii! I’ve been reading and writing (kinda) for years now but never published any of my work. I’ve liked DMC for about five years now and haven’t been able to get my mind off Vergil haha. So now instead of reading x readers I’ve decided to write post my own. This is my first posted work so I hope you guys enjoy!
He always found his way back to you.
No matter the years in between, the fights, the traumas, it’s always you that brings Vergil back down from the grey clouded heavens. You weren't the most beautiful, or even the most kind, however you were real to Vergil, an amalgamation of determination and wits that he felt drawn to. However, it drove him away as well, you were too real, and it scared him.
A condensed form of ideas with a theme that could be analyzed and picked apart and interpreted in different ways. You felt the same about Vergil but he’s more difficult to piece together.
You two could never fully understand each other.
Vergil stood in the door bloody, but it never scared you, not even the first time you saw him like this frightened you at all. He could never understand that. The only disgust brought to you was the fact he was getting the floor of your study dirty. He walked in not saying anything and sat down on the elegant chair in front of your desk.
The blood stained the white velvet chair and dripped onto the floor causing it to puddle. He rested his Yamato on the side of the desk, he gently placed it making sure not to scratch the delicate wood. You sat at your study desk staring at him, your legs crossed and your hands rested on top of your knee as you observed his awkward movements.
He never knew what to say at first, you always initiated conversation.
Vergil sighed and leaned over and rested his head into his lap. He looked tired, he always looked tired. You got up and walked around the desk, fingers gently caressing the dark polished wood. He peeked out from his fingers, his blue eyes pleading with yours.
I missed you-is what he would have said if he had the courage.
You walk in front of him, his legs manspread on your nice chair. You stood between the opening and lifted your hands and brushed them against his earlobe before caressing the back of his head pulling it towards you so that his forehead pressed on your upper stomach.
His hair was stained blood red as if his hair was never white in the first place. When you ran your fingers through it they came out crimson. Your stomach churned, not because of the bloody mess, but because of how disarrayed he was. You could feel his shaken hot breath dampening your nightdress as he wrapped his clothed arms around your waist pulling you closer. You two are fully against each other embracing as you have many times in the past.
“Vergil…” You croaked softly as you felt his fingers grip onto your back. They bury into your skin and flesh, roughly pressing into your ribcage. You grabbed his collar pulling away from him slightly but then you brought your hand to his face and wiped away the blood on his cheek.
Like clockwork he was back and broken, but now you must put him together again.
You ran a bath, checking every few seconds to feel if the water was warm enough for Vergil. He sat in the corner of your master bathroom against the wall-unclothed and still bloody. You didn’t have a sense of urgency since you could already tell it wasn’t his blood in the first place.
His knees were at his chest. He was deep in thought, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth downturned. You had always wished you could go through his mind and figure Vergil out; find a way to keep him for yourself; find a way for him to want to stay with you; find a way for him to end his slavery to his potential power.
Perhaps you do understand him, but you’re too blinded by your attachment rather than love.
You undress as well, after that embrace you end up just as bloodied. He doesn’t stare as you disrobe despite intentionally drawing it out so maybe he would look your way-it disappointed you. You graze Vergil’s muscular shoulder with your knuckles. He looks your way and you gesture your head to the bathtub. He gets up with a groan, finally letting out a smile from you. You two were both getting older, back problems got the best of everyone, even half demons.
He stepped into the tub and plopped into the scalding hot water. Letting out a sigh as most of the blood washed off almost immediately. He moved his face to the faucet to let the water clean his face. When he pulled back, the steam was already coming off his face. You entered the tub as well, positioning yourself in back of Vergil using his shoulder as a leverage as you sink deeper into the tub.
It was hard to ignore how tense his muscles felt at your touch.
You let out a deep shaky sigh as you lean your head against his back. It wasn’t soft flesh, it was strained and hard, as if you were leaning on a wall. You grab the washcloth drifting in the reddened water and wipe his back arm gently.
“I found out about Nero.” Vergil sighed. Nero…you were confused, “Who’s that?” You asked running your fingers through his stained hair scrubbing it.
That immediately made you pause your fingers still in his hair. Years ago…when you were much younger, and had first met Vergil. One thing led to another and you eventually had his child. You were freaked out back then and immediately placed your son on the orphanage step, not even giving him a name.
“Oh…” That was all you could have said honestly. The topic of your abandoned son was the last thing you expected. “He’s strong…bested me in combat about a year ago. After visiting you, I then fought with my brother and he broke the news to me…” Vergil huffed, “He was angry, the whole time I was wondering what he would have said to you.”
You’ve thought about that a lot, always assuming your son would just ignore you, tell you off, and continue living his own life. “I can’t call you selfish.” Vergil sighed.
You two were both the most selfish people you’ve known.
Vergil turned around in the tub now facing you. “You could have told me, why’d you hide this from me.” He asked, making complete eye contact with you, “You’re not the only one that can hide things.” You muttered.
You enjoyed how civil you two could be with each other, other people would be screaming, crying, or fighting. But there was a lack of emotion that barred you two from being fully together. “I came back from the underworld with Dante yesterday.” He brought his hand to yours, intertwining your fingers with him, “We fought demons…and I guess each other for over a year straight before returning.”—Well he certainly looked like he did.
He pulled you closer, caressing your cheek with his other hand. His fingers still intertwine with yours as he leans in and gently places a kiss on your lips. His lips were cracked and rough, they scratched yours. He pulled away and brought you close to him so that your head rested on his upper chest. Bringing his hand up, he strokes your hair. You bring both of your woven hands up and rest them between you two.
Ten minutes passed, but it felt like an hour.
Vergil got up from the bath, kissing the top of your hand as he got out. You stay there in the crimson water watching as he grabs a towel and leaves the bathroom. Looking back as he closes the door.
You stayed there for another hour.
You go to bed that night and look at your hand.
The blood was still there.
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