I - Content that is not suitable for minors or the workspace will be tagged as #nightlyscribes. If you’re going to interact with posts with that tag, have an age in your bio or be a consenting adult. Thanks.
II - Certain characters are harder to write than others so I apologize if my interpretation doesn't meet the mark for your idealization of the muse. I'm open for criticism so long as it is constructive rather than you telling me "this sucks" or something along those lines.
III - I will not be doing OCs in the imagines, sorry! I can however do matchups to whom I'd think would be a good pairing with you/your OC!
IV - I will not be doing anything with SA, Suicide, or something with the involvement of the muse(s) hurting themselves, nor anything I'm not comfortable with.
V - Please keep your requests to 4 characters max!
VI - Do not request anything that would be considered proship. I will be deleting any requests from here on out that would ask me to write such. I will also not be writing anything involving non-con or dub-con
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Strikethrough = I no longer write for these fandoms at this time, and would appreciate it if they were not requested until they're not struck through.
Madness Combat
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Dead by Daylight
Bullet Train
Resident Evil
Left 4 Dead
Devil May Cry
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not the kind we traditionally expect. wesker isn’t the perfect victim.
he’s deplorable. he’s harsh and cold but not because he wants to be.
from a young age, he was used. tested on. seen as a subject and number rather than a young boy.
wesker lashes out at reminders rather than cowers in fear. wesker doesn’t sob uncontrollably during flashbacks, he simply stares into nothingness, bares his teeth to the world. hopes it’ll leave him alone.
I will soon labor to work on a rebranding and handling all my little projects. But there’s a drought for a character that only like three people like and I know that I must mend this immediately.
(I'm SO nervous writing this request, because English is not my native language and I'm writing through a translator, and this is my first request. If I wrote something wrong, explained it poorly, I apologize in advance and ask you to just ignore it, I'm just really stupid)
Recently, my friend and I were playing "What if" and came up with "What if Virgil had TWO kids" and this thought literally stuck with me. Extra points if the reader looks eerily like Virgil. What about the headcanons with dmc boys (Vergil, Dante, V and Nero?) about this, like, Dante just walks into the office holding the reader(gn) by the scruff of the neck and he doesn't even have to say anything, it's literally a clone of his brother.
THIS WAS SO CUTE, how could I not write this? And please, you're fine!! I think I'll turn this into a little mini series or a one-shot later, but no promises! The first draft was certainly setting it up to be that though.
Vergil
There was no other woman that he 'coupled' with. The lady in red, back in Fortuna was the only lover he had ever taken on, and to his knowledge Nero was his only child having been born from that love. To see you standing before him now... you, who looks so much like how he did way back then... it unnerves him. It's the first instance where he's ever been so deeply unnerved in a long while. A clone, you had to be a clone. It wouldn't be the first time that Mundus has done something like this. The next time he goes to hell, he'd be sure to kill him once and for all. He wasn't ever content on letting the Prince of Darkness continue living after all that he has put him and his family through.
He thinks you're a spy, that your purpose here is malicious. But how can that be when you look so captivated by him? As if glimpsing into a mirror and seeing an aged reflection. This all must be so strange to you too, when nothing is so certain in your life. Fine. He can accept this. He can will himself too, because now he has a chance to correct your path before you're made to walk his again. He wouldn't want that for you, especially when he can be present for you where he failed to be present for Nero.
This too, pains him, and he knows that it will be awkward for all of you. Regardless, he has to face it, even if he doesn't know how. Seeing him instills a great dread within you; the power, the expectations, all of it feels overwhelming. How are you going to live up to that? Whenever you stand in his presence, you try to make yourself appear larger, more mature than your years let on. Your demonic nature imposes this upon you, much to his chagrin. It gnaws upon him, because, he was like this too.
He wanted to prove himself to his mother that he could be strong, that he could be mature. When he looks at you, he often finds himself ruminating about those times. You can feel it, and the sadness worries you. Why does he look at you like that? It almost feels like he doesn't accept you. You don't want that, so you try your hardest to be the epitome of what your creator spoke of him. That image has long been burned into your mind since then, and now it is all you strive for.
When you raise your training sword to him, he comes. When you trade blows, he is there, and when he feels your might against his... finally does he allow himself to smile. You're so much like him. Like the child that was lost on that very day. It's without a doubt now, cemented into his soul, regardless of what or who you are... you're his child. If anything tried to take you away from him, he would kill them.
V
He's seen you before, only, you weren't you then. After mingling his vines with Urizen, he had glimpsed the other you then. Or rather, Vergil. When he was blemished by tragedy, renewed by rejoining with the better half of himself-- that was the last he saw of... you. But now, he was back, and here he was... eye to eye with the child of that demon again. You're just as you were when he had first glimpsed that memory, still small with wide eyes boring into his own. You didn't get on too well with any of the others aside from Trish, and similarly he had expected to be met with some resistance from you too. But that never came.
Instead, you shuffled forward, with your arms outstretched to find purchase on one of his legs. A hug. You were hugging him... were Griffon to see it, he'd be laughing. He missed them, strangely, even if they were only ever nightmares. Here, he had a waking dream. His last encounter with a child hadn't gone too well, funny enough. From what he could recall, he'd berated the poor thing, for crying out as he did. As if he hadn't done the same thing when it had been him there, outside of the house as it all burned down. He rests a thin hand on your head as you hug him.
He doesn't know how to be comforting, only how to seek it out in others. But you make him want to change, to be different. Eventually he kneels to be at your level, hugging you properly as your arms snare around his shoulders. You were fond of Trish for obvious reasons, but V had a certain softness about him to you. Almost as if he was your mom, your real mom. Of course, you didn't have one, and it didn't matter to you at the time... but the thought of leaving his side hurts. If you're to go anywhere, you wanted him to follow.
You would drag him by the hand if you had to, and V was like to let the current take him. A part of him found it entertaining, and that maybe that was all you were to him. He would entertain you until you weren't amusing anymore. That's what he planned on doing, but watching you get sad at his silhouette burned him. It was such an unfamiliar thing that he paused to look back. Why did you look so sad? He was only temporary, fated to leave this world again whenever time had deemed it necessary.
You were infinitely stronger than he was, and you had everyone else too to guard and guide you. What made him so special? What made him so unique aside from his weakness? So determined to figure it out, he had remained, seated as you climbed into his lap and pulled at the rings and jewelry on his fingers. Simple. You thought of him as parent, as a guardian already. Even with all your strength and might yet to be had, you wouldn't ever stop needing that. You wouldn't ever stop needing him now that you had him in your life.
"I'll protect you too", you had told him. "You'll be safe with me", such a little voice sounding so sure... for the first time, would he mourn himself when he'd be lost. He wondered how long it would take for you to figure that out.
Nero
How the hell is he supposed to feel about you? You were a tiny version of the father he just found out he had. "Why wasn't I, or my mother enough...", he starts to think to himself, but those thoughts are squashed when he's informed that you weren't born from another affair or something like that.
Upon approaching you for the first time, he was hesitant, but he was your brother, as Kyrie had insisted that he at least give you a chance. The devil in you thought of him as a lesser because of how little his blood resembled yours or even your father's. On all accounts, you were going to brush him off, to ignore him if it weren't the sliver of Sparda coursing through his veins. If it weren't for that you wouldn't even consider him a worthy rival, but even with just a quarter of his power, he was remarkably strong.
Your uncle had told you that much, recounting their fight. Naturally, you had to test yourself against him, as much as Nero found it irksome. He'd be working on Red Queen, running maintenance on his sword when he'd feel a sharp strike to the back of one of his knees. It was a struggle trying to look after the three orphans with Kyrie already, but now he had to deal with you and your demonic antics. Great. If it's a fight you wanted, it would be a fight you'd get. But even as prideful as you were, you were a kid-- his little sibling. Despite himself, he held back, knowing that if he really went all out you'd get seriously hurt.
Yet, in not going all out, he made you cry regardless: all because he wasn't taking you seriously. You didn't need to be pitied, especially if you wanted to grow as a devil and get stronger for your family's sake. If you couldn't beat Nero, then what hopes did you have in defeating a threat that could wipe out your family? He could relate, having the same thoughts when his dad ripped his arm off, worried for Kyrie's sake and the kids. Through your little tantrums, he'd kneel to be at your eye level before patting you on the head.
"You put up a good effort at least, that's somethin' to be proud of", he'd say, which wasn't entirely false.
Still, even after you calmed down some, you wouldn't easily forgive his slights. Luckily, Kyrie could with her cooking. Nero couldn't help but feel a little envious of his girlfriend for being able to pacify you where he couldn't. Even when you seemed to dislike humans, as you've made it abundantly clear to him with each bout(much to Lady's disdain.) But as time goes on, he's slowly beginning to accept you as family. Sure, you're still irritating to him at times, but it's nothing a little bit of air jail can't fix, a trick he learned with Julio when he'd have his fits here and there.
As humiliating as it is, it does work. Instead of being treated as a demon spawn, him and his partner treat you as if you're one of their human children. The lack of violence and discipline worries you on account of not wanting to go soft while you're in the human world. On the other hand, it is comforting. To know that you are loved and safe with them puts a weird weight on your chest, and at times you look back on how you treated Nero in the past. When you try to do something nice for him, you go to Kyrie for help, since you're sure that he'd freak out if you brought him a dead demon or some other game(unlike Nico.) When he notices, you have to withhold from delivering a punch to his gut when he starts to dote on you.
Dante
Trish had found you, thinking it would be best if he would be the one to deal with you. At least while Vergil and Nero were both busy, and when she needed a break after he had declined doing so the first time around. It was harrowing to say the least, when you had appeared in his office, looking like the spitting image of the brother he had lost all those years ago. How did he do it this time? He had thought glumly, as he tried to swallow down the bile rising in his throat. Down to the last detail, it was like Vergil had been ripped straight out of his memories. That sick bastard Mundus, why couldn't he go bother another family? Quite frankly, he was tired of having to deal with that guy and his shenanigans. Maybe the ass beating on Mallet Island wasn't enough...
You could not help but to look up at him with due apprehension. This was Dante after all, successor to Sparda, and the one you were supposed to be keeping tabs on as per your orders. One part of you doesn't want anything to do with him, and another doesn't want to be too far away from him either. Even with the possibility that you could be a threat, Dante knows that he can't bring himself to strike you down. It's low brow, and it pisses him off even more that Mundus would think to do something like this. Gilver was enough of a scare, but here you are. He wishes you'd go away, he doesn't have to say it out loud for you to get the idea.
"You aren't going to fight me?", you had asked innocently, holding a little sword at your side. Oh... how it made his stomach churn. It's a feeling he's not acquainted to. Was it guilt? Grief? It was definitely agonizing...
"No, kid. I'm not gonna fight ya", he answered with a grin as he laid his heavy hand on your head. He ruffles your hair, pushing through the nausea as he chuckles dryly. Who could blame him? Another copy of his brother sent to mess with him after all this time, without knowing what you're here for or what you're capable of he can't help but to stay on edge.
That's why he has Trish take care of you, because you seem to like her as much as Vergil did back then. You aren't acting like a little terror, not that you'd dare to, so what? What's going to happen next, what comes next? When your purpose rears its ugly head, he knows it's going to have to be him to put a stop to you. Whether he likes it or not, whether he wants to or not. Lady can tell that it eats at him the more you try to get closer to him. You follow him around sometimes, wanting to spar or to play. It's what he would've wanted Vergil to ask him to do as kids, he should be happy that he gets to finally play with him now but you're not him.
He snaps one evening, telling you to go, to leave him alone before things get ugly. Lady interjects, that he was out of line, and Trish is there to hold you when you finally stop chasing after him. When the tears fall and you turn to her, he realizes that he shouldn't have done that. He didn't mean to, but if he isn't ready to go to you to comfort you right now. He'll make it up to you, but for the time being, it's best if you just stay with the girls.
BONUS
Sparda
How dare he, to create a crude re-imagining of his beloved child that he had then tortured for YEARS. Why, if he had the power to fly back down and to wring his neck himself... but alas, that wasn't possible anymore. It was oddly paralyzing having to look up at your creator's arch nemesis. His warden, essentially. You expected to be met with the end of his blade, to be demolished and scattered on the wind, but instead he crouched down to your level and searched your eyes. You were a devil, but even if you were possessed with the intent of causing harm upon him or anyone here, you would not be strong enough to do it. The legendary dark knight of eld chuckled softly before he reached up to pat your head and declare to the others that there was no need for concern. You, ever the devil, tried to correct his folly.
Not wanting to be undermined, you went to strike Sparda, he commended you on your audacious spirit(as misguided as it was.) The old man evaded your attack, and then evaded your follow up, only to adjust your arm. Your form was lacking, and it was simply adorable watching the way you seemed to get even more cross with him when you realized he didn't even see you as a threat. It was just as it was when you were in Hell. Mundus' remaining forces saw you as little more than disposable fodder, that you resembled Sparda's kin put you at a disadvantage already. Eventually you gave up trying to fight him directly, opting to catch him off guard in some other way.
The traps you set up kept him on his toes, and he feigned to get trapped in one just once to humor you. When he fell to the floor, playing dead, you ran over with the cutest smile on your face. Absolutely beaming before he caught you in a hug, laughing as he began to tickle your sides. Never having been tickled before, you assumed you were being subjected to a human torture method, and began screaming hysterically. After the first few screams left your lips, and attracted the attention of both Vergil and Dante running to the scene of the crime, they couldn't help but to sigh with relief when they saw it was just their dad and you goofing around.
"I thought you were being attacked for a moment... what is the meaning of this?", Vergil demanded.
"Good grief pops... had us going there for a second", Dante sighed as he watched Sparda lifting you into the air.
"Ohh I couldn't help it, I didn't mean to worry you boys!", he replied gleefully as he spun you around before settling you back on your feet.
You could not look anymore pissed off. The sight of your pout made Dante laugh before you went to go hide behind his brother's coat. If mom were here, no doubt you'd be telling on him to her. After a moment, Sparda's bending down to try and talk to you behind Vergil's back.
"I apologize, my dear... I didn't mean to upset you! But did you really think that that would do me in?", he can't help but to tease you.
"You'll rue this day, Sparda. I swear it!", you glowered as you turned your head away from him. It pulls a guffaw from him before he rises.
"Aww, don't be that way! What if I got you some ice cream? Have you had ice cream before?"
"If you're treating the kid, I want a strawberry sundae", Dante chimed in.
A hanahaki Vergil/Reader fic would go crazy. On behalf of Vergil being afraid that his love would not be reciprocated and that he is ill deserving to receive the affections of the wonderful reader. Someone who’s caused so much grief for others, someone who contradicts their humanity and is so unused to the idea would not be able to bring you joy and mirth. And so the seeds are planted in the pits of his lungs, burrowing and mingling with his bronchial tubes. At first he doesn’t understand it, because something so trivial as this should not even be bothering him. He wants to be distant with you. He wants to run away, but he’s never been one to be avoidant with his problems. He wants to control them, and by pulling away from that which pains him, he thinks he’s doing such.
He couldn’t be more wrong. The petals take form and put pressure on the breath he draws. Dante’s the first to notice. He even calls him out on it, but what does he know? Was he supposed to confront you and dump his affections upon you? That’s no way to handle it, and what if you tell him no? What if you don’t accept these burning feelings of his? All this work for power, and here you are, stealing his strength with that damned smile of yours. It’s agony.
Hey, first off I love your writing so dearly, it's wonderful! I have a question and possible trope. I read what Dante, Virgil, and Nero would do if they were with a chubby lover, and how they would react if someone else insulted them for their weight. But what would they do if the one insulting their weight is themself? Like their lover with insecurities that leads them to belittling or putting their own body down? How would they respond?
Terribly sorry for the belated response to this, nearly a year since you first put in the request, but here she comes: a sequel to The More to Love. Crazy to think that it also been a year since that post came out way back in October. Regardless, please enjoy the boys comforting their chubby lover.
Dante
He isn’t a stranger to being concerned with the way he looks. Just human enough to pass, but if you looked, really looked at him you’d see it… the demon inside. He was worried you’d be scared of that when the two of you started dating. Truth be told, he was ready to embrace the frightened look he’d inevitably see in your eyes when he’d have to trigger his devil form. The fiery red scales and the inferno broiling around him deterred lesser demons, but they didn’t scare you. You, in all of your beauty and grace, held his face in your hands after the threat was dealt with. You called him pretty. Pretty! And just like that, his doubts were washed away, gone to the wind when he picked you up into his arms.
So why was it that you could accept that part of him– every part of him–, but not yourself? Why were you so mean to… to you?
The way you put yourself down in front of him irks him because how could anyone think such nasty things? I’m too fat, you said, I’d be prettier if I weren’t… and you, you deserve to be with someone who isn’t–
“Who isn’t… what? So charming? So… sexy?”, he chimed in, getting in the way of your words. It’s all bullshit. He wouldn’t stand for it, and neither should you(even if you’re talking about yourself here.)
“I don’t get what the issue is here”, he did, but this was something you needed to hear. You needed to know that he didn’t care about your weight or how you looked. You didn’t care about how he looked.
Before you know it, he’s taken your hands into his own, looking at you with those pretty eyes of his. The eyes you adore. The eyes that bear down on you with nothing but adoration.
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but you’re fine just as you are. Got that?”, his voice comes out in that hushed little drawl, just for you.
Dante’s thumbs brush over your hands as he lets go of them to hold your face.
“But…–”
“No buts!”, he declares, moving closer to wrap his arms around your form.
His hands are gentle as they are possessive as they coil around you. He’s warm. In the warmth of his embrace, does he give you an appreciative squeeze, leaning his head down to kiss the top of your head.
“... but if you do want help with that, I’d be more than willing to lend ya hand. We can eat healthier… and exercise, if that’s what you want”
If there were any tears or quiet sobs in the silence, he waits to hear your response. Or, at the very least, wait for you to bring your arms around him.
“... okay”, you sniffle, “Thank you, Dante”, you smile into his shoulder.
He has to bite his tongue, only because you’re so damn cute.
Vergil
He can’t understand why this would possibly ever be a problem, or how you could think such things about your body. If it wasn’t causing you any physical discomfort, what was the issue here? Why would he think you’re unattractive because you’re plump? Quickly, before any other more insults towards yourself can leave your mouth, he cuts you off.
“That is enough”, he’s frowning, but that’s his usual expression. It’s not a matter of what he thinks, but a matter of what you think and how you perceive yourself. Of which is not to his liking, it would not be the first time you’ve said something he did not agree with.
“If you’re unhappy with the way that you look, then we can change it, but I don’t ever want to hear you say such things about yourself again”, his gaze is cast elsewhere for a moment before he reaches out to you. Tentative, allowing you the choice of whether you want to move into him or not.
It’s not threatening you, is it? Another thought that comes to mind is if someone else has said something about your weight to you… perhaps a family member or acquaintance of some sort. He doesn’t know to what extent you’ve endured such negativity about yourself for, but he’ll be damned if he’ll let you suffer it for any longer. You aren’t too much of anything, not to him. You’re you, and if there is anything that’s right in this god forsaken world, then it would be you. Not what anyone else thinks, or even what he thinks for that matter.
“Do you really believe that?”, he asks, his brow furrowing as his gaze finds you again.
Do you really think those things about yourself?
“... What if I can’t keep up with you, what if I weigh you down? I don’t want to be… I don’t want to be a burden to you”, are the words you say to him.
Oh how it burns. How it hurts to hear you think that you could ever be that to him.
“You never have been, you never will be… regardless of whatever form or shape you are”, he brushes your cheek with the pad of his thumb. That cold stare has thawed, becoming like gentle snow as it catches you.
The relief that washes over you when you hear his words is a balm to the weariness that plagues you. You tried to brace yourself for his rejection, expecting it to come with an easy or reluctant dismissal, but it never came. His reassurance, his vow, it’s almost overwhelming. Yet he is unyielding, as he ever is. Vergil presses his forehead against yours, letting you cry to get it out of your system. He is here, and here he shall always be, even if you think he ‘deserves’ better or if you’re unsatisfied with yourself.
He was unsatisfied with himself at one point.
Nero
“What are you talking about..?”, it catches him off guard when he sees you so crestfallen in front of a mirror.
You had been holding your stomach, gritting your teeth together as you started to list off all the things you thought was wrong with yourself. Always hungry, too pudgy, not enough. Before you can continue he’s already walking closer to you, both hands raised, not that you wanted him to leave or to back off.
“Woah, woah, woah– stop that… You’re… you’re not too fat for me”, you could hear the waver in his tone, the dip in his voice when he said ‘fat’. Like a puppy whining, as if he had been the one to be scolded.
Nero tried to figure out what to do with his hands, until they reached to settle on yours. He didn’t pull them away from yourself, but he seemed to be trying to figure out what was wrong. His eyes were searching yours, hoping to find an answer in the depths of them, through the tears and the red puff as you cried.
“Where is this coming from?”, you hadn’t ever… he didn’t think this would be something you’d be hung up on. “Listen to me, you’re not too fat and being fat doesn’t make you ugly or unattractive at all. I like you like this”, he says quickly, before his hands move up to cup your cheeks. His thumbs brush under your eyes to wipe away the tears as you stand there, hiccuping your breaths, trying to keep it in.
“Come on, breathe… it’s okay to cry- was it something I said?”, he asks, one brow cocked in concern as he tries to think back on if he had ever mentioned anything about your weight. He could be such an idiot sometimes, and he hoped that he hadn’t made an off handed comment that could’ve spurred you to take it out on yourself, but you had shook your head.
“You didn’t say anything, Nero…”, you managed when you had started to take breaths for yourself.
He almost let out a sigh of relief, but you were still upset, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it. Really, what… or who, made you cry? Who made you think such awful things about yourself?
“So why are you… who put all of those dumb thoughts in your head then?”, he asks.
Who hadn’t? With all the skepticism, all the judgement made on your figure… it was hard to pinpoint where it all began, if not when. When you calm down a bit more, you look into the blue of his eyes, wanting to hear it from him again.
“Did you really mean that, earlier… when you said you like me like this?”, you ask.
“Every bit”, he nods, going to kiss your forehead, “And there’s nothing that can ever change that”
In which you spend Christmas with Vergil and his family. A Christmas special that was totally on time by the way. That I totally didn't forget about. By the way.
The Devil May Cry was more lively than it had been for a time, the jukebox buzzed with life as Dante was in the kitchen, preparing a bowl of eggnog for the handful of people that would be dropping in for the holiday. He could always count on Morrison being here, his old drinking buddy when no one else was around and ‘work’ was slow, and he knew that Lady and Trish would be here as always, but this year would be different. This year, he’d get to spend Christmas with his brother and his old friend. After what felt like ages, they’d finally be out of hell, cleaning up the mess that Vergil had made trying to achieve true strength. Ha, because that had only gone so well the first time.
Still, he was glad to have him back. Not as an enemy, or a fragment, but him as he wholly was. It felt so wrong to go so long without his twin, back when they were kids, he thought it’d always just be the two of them against the world… but that was so long ago. He’d grown and the hole left in his wake had already began to mend itself when he met the kid, and when he had Lady and Trish there at his side. He wasn’t ever truly alone, not like Vergil was, which makes him all too happy to be able to share the holiday with his twin and the only other person in his life. The little reader from the library by their old home.
He could hear Vergil coming down the stairs as he stirred the bowl with the ladle, admiring his handy work as he added just one more shot of whisky to the mixture. With the building’s heater and AC, they’d have to keep warm somehow, right? It’s not like Patty was coming over anyway, so they didn’t have to worry much about that. Dante could feel his brother’s eyes on the back of his head as he turned to regard him, a lazy grin on his face as he saw him in a stuffy sweater that looked itchy as hell. The cable knit had a snowman on the front, with a carrot nose and a black tophat to boot.
On the way back from the store, there was a hat, he would’ve liked to have nabbed for Mr. Grinch over here but Vergil shot him down before he could even suggest they get it.
“Look who decided to leave his room. I’m finishing up on the drinks over here, but uh, why don’t you go and start decorating out in the front? It’d certainly be a lot of help, Lady and Trish just brought the tree in”, he points to the lobby with his eyes as he decides to pour himself a cup of eggnog. As a little reward for his ‘hard work’.
“Hmph… very well”, he mused, “Do you know when our little reader will get here?”, he asked, folding his arms at his brother while he flicked his eyes over to the box set up near the door where the evergreen had been propped up with the stand. The tinsel and ornaments were sticking out of the box, and he didn’t doubt that it’d be a hard task for himself… if not tedious.
“Yeah- they called not too long ago, they should be getting here now”, he hummed as he sipped the creamy concoction, savoring the slight burn from the alcohol as it slid down.
As if right on cue, the door opens, and you make your grand entrance. You’ve met up with Vergil before this, by mere coincidence at that. He wasn’t looking for you, and you weren’t looking for him, so sure that it was the last you’d ever see of him again. But even so, that didn’t stop him from seeing the smallest hints and traces of you in everything. The way the sun set reminded him of you, of the time before he had taken the yamato and cleaved a path for himself. That you survived his armageddon brought him more peace than he could know, as he found you amongst the survivors trying to rebuild in Redgrave City.
It felt like you hadn’t changed, like you had remained just as you were on the day that you said goodbye for what could’ve been the last time. You didn’t like it then, telling him that it was just a farewell, that you’d see him again. And you did, the both of you did. But unlike then, he was more mature now. Your nose was red from the cold, your cheeks and even your fingertips held a rosy hue as he appraised you. A part of him disliked how faulty the systems of the agency were, having figured that his businessman brother would have the sense to maintain it better. The cold didn’t bother him much, but he saw the way you pulled your own sweater closer to your form, trying to stay warm.
Vergil laments that there isn’t more that he could do for you or to offer, and he isn’t sure if you’d like to drink Dante’s eggnog…
“Hey! You made it in one piece, want some eggnog?”, he heard his brother pipe up as he moved to step into the lobby from the kitchen.
“Oh- I’m alright, thanks. I think I’ll definitely have some later though”, you pipe up as you step closer to his twin. Vergil’s gaze still sits on you as you regard him with a similar look, your eyes drifting down to his chest, staring at the little snowman on his front before you bring your eyes back up.
“You’re staring”, your voice is a quiet reminder as he chuckles softly.
“I’m just… appreciating your outfit. I’m glad you decided to come, as ridiculous as this is…”, he admits, pinching the cheek of the snowman. It’s itchy, but he doesn’t mind it much.
“Well, that’s sort of the point of an ugly sweater party, isn’t it?”, you ask, wearing that half smile he had missed so much since he had last seen you. It’s a comforting sight.
You had worn a green sweater, with a fuzzy Rudolph pattern, with the red nose being made of sequins instead of being sewn on. You look off to the side to see the barren tree and its lack of any ornaments or other decorations on it.
“You haven’t started on the tree yet?”, you ask with a quirk of your brows.
“Ah… on that you’d have my brother to blame”, Vergil gestured to Dante who held his hands up with a shrug. It’s not that he had been putting it off(it was), but there were just other, more pressing matters to attend to. That’s all!
Of course, they were lucky to get a tree at all on the day of Christmas. If it weren’t for the girls, they’d be treeless(and homeless), just another debt he owed to his partners in crime. More so to Lady than Trish. You don’t linger for very long as you step over to the box and reach in to take something out, a silver ball and some other things. There were lights, and a star, but that was just about it. Nothing to put on the mantle, or even stockings for that matter. You had the feeling that Christmas wasn’t too celebrated within their family, which was fine of course, and made sense.
Demons celebrating Christ? That had to be a sin.
“Come on, let’s get started then”, you gave him a little nudge with your elbow, and so Vergil started to get a move on setting up the tree with you.
At least he’d have some company while he did this. The two of you could even start to catch up some more. Your exchanges ever since he had resurfaced along with his brother from the pits of hell have been brief, given due to his search of work and your own obligations, but you still had trouble getting over the fact that your childhood friend was an aspiring tyrant not that long ago, for his own reasons. The apotheosis of his plans had very nearly cost the world… he wonders how you can bring yourself to consort with such a villain now. The part of himself he cast aside would have a better idea than he, for even now, he struggles. As he loses himself to his thoughts, something tugs at his fingertips.
“Are you just going to stand there?”, you had asked him.
“I was merely giving you a head start”, he tactfully replies.
You seem to know what you’re doing, picking to space out the ornaments as he looks to the box to pick out his own handful of orbs to toss around on the tree. The last time he remembers doing this was when he was still a child. Dante would hurry along with the tinsel, running along the tree while their mother lifted him higher and higher. Then she’d lift him next to put the star on top. He expects to feel pain at the memories rising, a gentle sting, but he can only hear your voice.
“When I was younger, this was my favorite part of the holiday, not the gifts but decorating the tree. Everyone pitches in, and when we finished we’d have a hot cocoa together”, you mused, warmth blooming in your face as you recalled the memory with fondness.
You seemed so bright to him then, like you had when you two were leaving the library, and the sun hid just behind your taller frame. Standing next to you, he placed a hooked ball on a branch just above your own, your ornaments not without a pair as you hooked them up together. The silence filled in after your thought, a moment passing before it’s broken again, this time by him.
“… that sounds… nice. Perhaps after this then, you and I could indulge in a nice drink”, he offered, not without some awkwardness.
“I’d like that”, you nod, eyes carefully glancing up to his from where you stood.
So much time had passed, but you still see him. You can still see that haughty little boy that had so stubbornly tried to remove you from his spot in the library all those years ago. The awkwardness in his voice, the way he shifts around, almost as if uncertain with what to do with himself… it’s all so cute. He can try to be stoic, to appear indifferent or detached, but he’s teeming with excitement even if he doesn’t allow himself to say so. You give him a half smile, and he returns it, a smirk stretching across his face as he turns to collect more ornaments from the box.
“What are you thinking about?”, he asks, pulling the tinsel from the loose bunch it had been haphazardly thrown in. Without care, he could add as he started to untangle it from its fixed position in the worn cardboard.
“… I don’t know about everything that’s happened in the time we’ve been a part, but I’m glad we got to meet again”, you tell him as you stare at his back.
Most couldn’t say the same.
“I was sure you’d have forgotten about me”, he admits, turning back to face you, his arms spread out to get ready to wrap the length of the decoration around the evergreen tree.
“There isn’t a thing about you that’s forgettable. I don’t know anyone with hair so… silver, or with a face so…”, you take a moment to gesture, “You”, that is to say… “I promised that I wouldn’t forget you”
And you had the mind to call him little prince, just as you had always thought to when you were kids. Vergil laughs, but it’s a soft little ha, like you’d expect. You take one end of the tinsel from his hands as he starts to walk around the tree to dress it up. He could surmise the same thing about you. Every part of you was so memorable to him, carrying a little bit of you with him as he went about his life. Unknowingly dancing along to the same tune of that villain from the book you had been reading then. For all the blood shed and the violence wrought, the greatest gift he had received from it all was the chance to be here before everyone now.
Most of all, you.
You, who had only ever stared at him with those adoring eyes.
He’s stealing glances at you again from beyond the tree, through the branches and the many glittering ornaments as the two of you circle each other from around the tree. He chases after you, picking up his pace by a step until the tree is well adorned. Stepping back, he looks back at it, as you come to join him. The holidays have lost their magic to him, for the greater part, but he cannot deny the thrumming in his chest as he stands with you. It’s missing something though, arguably the most important part of a Christmas tree. You turn to fetch it from the box, looking down and inside to see the dusty little star from within.
Plucking it out, you give it a good blow, watching as the particles fly off with concealed disgust. Ah, well nothing a quick wipe wouldn’t mend. Vergil steps closer from behind you, his hands coming to appear over your own as he wipes it with his palm. Looking down at it from over your shoulder, something flickers within him.
“Why don’t you go and put it up”, you muse.
You don’t lean back into him, just as he goes to pull away, stealing the star from your hands to go and look at the top of the tree. His frame is tall, but it’s just barely out of reach. The little prince leans up on the tip of his toes as he reaches out to put the star on the point of the tree. Your hand slides over to the small of his back, steadying him should he start to teeter and fall. It’s not at all needed, but it shows that you care. He finds himself enjoying it greatly…
”Wow! Great work you two”, Dante pipes up after what feels like an eternity of silence. Vergil hadn’t forgotten he was there, but it startles you. The eldest twin turns to regard his younger brother with a look that the other shrugs off.
“Yes, well… what have you been up to exactly?”, Vergil quipped.
“Hey now, I’ve been setting up shop too, see?”, Dante pointed up at the ceiling above them, the both of your eyes trailing up to meet the little green herb that had been strung up.
“Mistletoe…”, you had correctly guessed. Dante winked at you before he left to go get something else, likely the food for tonight’s party.
He wasn’t saying it outright, but he was picking up on the tension filling his agency now, hoping this would expedite the journey. Vergil scoffed, then rolled his eyes, finding it stupid. Why did it matter if someone stood under it? He turned to you for a moment, about to comment on it when he held his tongue. The thought hadn’t struck him at all, earnestly. Then he looked away, going to go back to regard the tree. The two of you ended up doing a splendid job, just as Dante had apprised.
“So about those drinks hm?”, you asked with a chuckle, “There’s a cafe that’s open near here, unless you want some eggnog?”
”I think I’ll pass, let’s go to the cafe”, he agreed, eager to get out of the shop. The ugly sweater he wore was just now starting to itch. Vergil tugged at his collar as you made your way to the door.
You opened it for him as he walked out, passing Lady and Trish on the way. They had a few bags in their hands. Last minute Christmas shopping huh? At Dante’s expense, undoubtedly. Vergil glanced at them as you closed the door behind you. The snow began to fall in small flakes from the sky, slowly dotting your hair as you walked. He followed just a few steps behind, keeping his pace as you walked. His pale eyes glanced at your hand as you strode down the path towards the little coffee shop you spoke of.
His hand reached for you before he could stop himself, holding onto your fingers as you walked. You didn’t stop to ask him why, or to think to question it. The cold touch upon your warm hand was a feeling you’d been missing since forever. He fit there, sliding into place like a jigsaw piece. Vergil’s thumb rubbed behind your palm as you curled around his thumb. It isn’t very far, and the golden glow of the cafe glows softly, the light pouring out from the glass windows.
The inside is just as warm and cozy, with soft jazz playing overhead. The scents of the patrons and brewing coffee and cocoa alike would’ve bothered him normally, and he didn’t feel very comfortable meandering through public spaces like that, but he focused solely on you.
“What would you like?”, you asked, turning to look over your shoulder, a wry smile on your lips.
“What did you get when you were a kid?”
“Two hot cocoas then, with little marshmallows and whipped cream”, you tell the barista on hand.
You watched them make your drinks with some small appreciation as he looked on with a bored expression. It was nothing special, but he would appreciate the end product. You’re still holding his hand even after you pay for the drinks and when the two of you stand off to the side to pick them up. The cardboard sleeve helps to not burn your hands, but it’s not like it’d matter for when you’d step back out to return to the office anyway. Vergil brings the drink up to his lips and goes to take the first sip. It’s still hot, but not so searing that it seriously hurts him, not that it would.
“How can you drink it like that?”, you ask, waiting for it to cool down enough to not burn your tongue.
“Like what? It’s perfectly fine for me”, he gives a small smile, almost smug.
You shake your head, “Doesn’t that burn?”, you question him.
He shakes his head as he goes back to it, smacking his lips lightly to pass his judgement. It’s a little too sweet for him, but it’s not terrible. Cocoa is a children’s drink after all, but this is what he asked for. He’d take what he was given, refraining from making any complaints. You blow on yours from the little hole in the lid, not wanting to risk it even if you felt compelled for a sip just now. You find it endearing at least, that he was eager to try it enough to not wait for it to get to a comfortable point to drink it from.
Vergil starts to walk back, guiding you this time back home.
The Quiet Walk from The Library, and the Squabble that Followed.
In which little Vergil and the Reader walk home from the library, both with troubles brewing as the plot thickens. Dante appears too, much to Vergil's chagrin. Here comes the sequel, thank you anon and my dearest friend Greed for requesting for part two!
Enjoy.
What the two of you read weren’t too far apart from what he liked, and admittedly it felt good to find common ground with someone for once. There wasn’t ever a need to compete or to strive to prove himself or anything of that sort when it came to meeting you in the library. He could fall into a comfortable silence, reading Blake as he liked, but a part of him couldn’t help but to look for it. Vergil was anticipating for you to say something, be it an inquiry or something other, perhaps you recognized the title in his hands. What he couldn’t have anticipated is how he had become increasingly observant of you, stealing glances from the corners of his eyes to see you were ignoring him.
Of course you were, you were reading, and he was reading too— but while watching you read from when he would finish his stanza, he noted just how peaceful you looked. Your lashes would curtain your eyes, and one hand would support the stray locks of hair that seemed to frame your face perfectly, like text wrapping around a space in a page. He liked the way your brows would furrow slightly in thought as you read, and you, so engrossed in what you were reading and wouldn’t notice until you finally stopped to check the time. Mother was preparing supper and you didn’t want to be late for it, lest you get another earful from your father. When your gaze flicked up from the worn pages, Vergil would still, but he wasn’t afraid that he was caught.
His sky blue eyes would remain affixed to your own, not wanting to look away. It was you who were perplexed, figuring that there must be something on your face or maybe he just wanted your attention, but far be it beyond a stupid little boy to tell you what it was.
“… I have to go”, you’d tell him, and like a cat he’d just keep his stare. It’s unnerving, but, something you’ve steadily accepted as your norm now that you’ve made this place a home away from home. The both of you did, drawn to the high shelves in search of sanctuary.
But you’d be leaving… not just for the day, but taken elsewhere. You had to move to a coastal city far beyond Redgrave, and you still hadn’t told him yet. You’ve been meaning to, but every time you do it makes you wistful. As silly as it was, to care so much about a boy you had only but recently met. And still, he had become someone you’d start to look forward to seeing on your daily departures to this dusty place. Vergil would lie if he said he wouldn’t miss you, or if he cared, he didn’t know that he could with such emphasis.
“Will you be back tomorrow?”, he’d ask, finally glancing down at his own pages, glowering almost as if he too had missed something sitting on the tip of his tongue. There was something he wanted to tell you, to ask, but he wasn’t sure if he should. Or if you’d agree to what he had in mind.
“Maybe”, you always teased. You’d always say that, and then you’d always return. It was one of the few constants he could rely upon, that you’d be there to greet him with that half smile of yours that made him churn. For all that he read, he was sure he would’ve identified it by now with his extensive reading. Whenever father returned from his trip, he would be sure to ask him. He always seemed to know just what to do.
Before he knew it though, you were rising, beginning to walk away. Just as you always did when you told him you had to go, stealing away to your home. Vergil rose just as quickly, if not faster, meeting your side instead of stealing your spot to absorb the warmth of your seat. You gave him a look as he closed his book, holding it just under his arm. What was he expecting from you now, as he bore into you with those pretty eyes. Was he going to—
“I want to walk with you. Let me come with”, he had spoken bluntly.
Simple, and spoken without any princely prose as you’d hope to have heard fall from his lips. You were expecting something more… akin to your stories, something rightfully him even if plucked from your fantasies of grandeur with knights and villains alike. Fantasies remain in the imaginations of those that don’t wake from their dreams, and here you’ve been given the breath of reality. Another step taken, another pace earned. You manage to pinch your lips shut for just a moment, biting back the smile that wishes to stretch in earnest across your face. In spite of your best efforts it wins.
You cannot bother to school your expression, because it makes you happiest to spend time with him. You’ve begun to understand this after getting over the little scuffle that brought you two together, as much as you tried to deny this too.
“I suppose I could let you… don’t fall behind then”, and as you try to say it with some form of indifference, you’re unable to tear your eyes away from the way he seems to brighten at your acceptance.
As if fearing rejection.
You bid your farewells to the old librarian, trying to ignore the way he chuckles softly as the two of you stroll out the large double doors. The sun has begun to set, and the sky is a warm golden hue. The light is crepuscular as it shines through the clouds, passing through their opaque forms with the likeness of an oil painting. A gust of wind blows through your hair as you brave the road ahead, with little prince Vergil behind you. You turn around to see him just staring again, and he too is in agreement that the sight before him is beautiful too.
“This way”, you gesture, and the two of you walk down the cobbled path. You can hear him jog after you, never lingering as the two of you cross through an alleyway. You’re a little taller than he is, your legs making longer strides as he increases his pace just to catch up. Looking over your shoulder, you can see him struggling some… and you can’t help but to pause. It’d be a pain if he were to get lost or unable to keep up, and you’d feel bad if he were caught out here by himself.
“What..?”, he says as you regard him. Vergil tries to stand up taller, tilting his head up to look at you. It crosses his mind that he might be slowing you down, but he doesn’t mean to, he doesn't want to be. Your hand reaches out for his, and he lets you take it, holding onto this little piece of him as you resume your walk.
“I forget how short you actually are”, you reply nonchalantly, still holding onto that smile from before, “So I’ll hold your hand… Just so you don’t get lost or anything, okay?”
”You don’t need to do that, I wouldn’t get lost”, he huffs, but he isn’t pulling away from you.
Your hand is soft, not marred by callouses like his are from sword fighting with his brother, Dante. His thumb brushes over yours as he feels the back of your hand with the pad of his finger. And there it goes again, that weird feeling in his gut, something that begets happiness. The two of you continue your stroll back to your home, just a ways away on the opposite side of town. It was on the opposite side of his own home, he noted, but you two lived a ways away from everyone else it’d seem.
Vergil’s hand is cold in yours as you lead him, carefully taking the streets and roads that are the least busy. Even outside of the library, he noted how careful you were, hiding even when you didn’t need to be. Your meekness was something he could not yet understand. With the other people passing along, you made sure to keep out of their way if there were any there. When there would be people that dared to walk too close to the two of you, Vergil would issue them a very sharp glare, threatening to growl as they steered themselves clear. Though as small as he was, he had no trouble playing the role of guard dog for you.
If only ever for you. He didn’t need to defend other people as often as he felt the need to defend himself, and even then…
“Sorry that I took you so far, you probably don’t even live anywhere near here, huh?”, you’d asked, “It’s getting dark and I don’t want you to go back out there alone”
Vergil, who had not even been paying attention to the approaching destination, had only blinked at you then. It has? But the sky was golden, there was still so much time, so he had thought. He didn’t want to have to go just yet. That much was apparent by the way his brow furrowed and his lips curled into a tiny frown. You’d regard him again, not wanting him to go back home either, what if something happened to him? Your heart ached at the thought alone, and you were about to tell him to wait a moment before you saw someone else draw near.
“Vergil! There you are! What the heck are you doing all the way out here..? Who’s that?”, spoke the little boy, who could’ve been his clone truly.
He had the same silver hair, sitting on a mop on his head instead of being slicked back. For a first time, you’d see your library partner startle, eyes widening as he whipped around with a scowl already adorning his face. It didn’t take very long for you to register this kid as his twin, but Vergil made no mention of him to you.
“Dante! What are you doing here?! Did you follow me?”, he hissed.
”Mom told me to go get you for dinner, but instead of going back you went away from the library! You’re gonna be in so much trouble~”, he teased his brother.
“Um…”, you stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to say or what to do. You had to go in, but at least there was someone here to walk Vergil home. That way he’d be safe, knowing his brother was looking out for him too.
“I’ll see you tomorrow..!”, he called over his shoulder as his brother began to drag him away. You watched, holding your hands together as you watched him get smaller and smaller on the horizon. You’d definitely poke at him about that tomorrow when you’d see him.
. . . . . ╰──╮
He couldn’t help but to give his brother a good shove when he was a way’s away from your home, and he would’ve been in slightly better spirits if his brother hadn’t been there to ruin the discovery as he tended to ruin many things for him. It’s so hard to believe that this is his brother, his twin brother, the ‘other half of his soul’ or something like that. Father put it that way, and so he had come to accept it as truth, but this was truly galling. Dante wouldn’t stop with his teasing and his poking and prodding and it drove him up the wall. His favorite secret had been revealed, and just as when he had anything bestowed upon him, his brother would have to come and have his share of it too.
Sharing was caring, so he’d been told, but can’t he have something to himself? Something that wouldn’t be taken away just because Dante had wanted it too? He felt his hackles rise as his brother shoved him back, undeterred as he always was.
“What do you two even do at the library anyway? Seems too dark and dreary to have any real fun, like when we sword fight!”, he piped up, moving back to his side.
“Well you wouldn’t get it anyway”, he huffed, folding his arms, “just leave it be, okay?”, he groaned as he rolled his eyes at his doddering brother. So annoying.
But for all his jesting and jokes, Dante could see that Vergil was happy, and if his brother was happy then so would he be. He was only saddened of course, by the fact that he wouldn’t be able to play with him as much as he used to now that he would always be at the library. He’d just have to go there too then, to catch the two of them there together so that they could all hangout. That way, he wouldn’t be alone at the manor by his lonesome. Dante jogged up to meet his brother as he had taken to walking ahead again, following the path you had shown him, his hand still warmed from where you had been holding it.
Eventually when they did return, Dante was right when their mother had begun telling him off for being so late to come home, worried that something had happened to him. As if there would be anything that could harm a son of Sparda, it’s not like he was some helpless little kid. He was the heir to the legendary dark knight, and one day he’d hope to don the shining armor that he’d seen his father wear. Perhaps he’d start training right after dinner though, he couldn’t help but to wince at his mother’s shrill voice as she lectured him about being safe and cautious. Just as any mother would be for her child. It’s not like Vergil could know, of the enemies his father has made or of the lengths they’d be willing to go through in order to hurt him.
The three of them sat altogether, eating the stew that their mom had made, Dante scarfing his food down as per usual while Vergil took his time. He looked off to the side, to the courtyard through the kitchen window where he could see their training dummies in the dark. As his belly grew full with supper, thoughts of swordplay dwindled as he pictured tomorrow and how he’d get to spend it with his friend in the quiet part of the library. He’d see you, and he’d get to spend his days reading, hoping that his brother wouldn’t follow him and ruin it for him. He’d show you just how fun he could be, more so than his brother– but why did that even matter to him now? He couldn’t bare the thought of you finding him more fun than he was.
In his bed, he turned on his side, staring at the ceiling as Dante laid in the bed opposite to him. His brother hadn’t fallen asleep just yet either, even when he was the first to fall after dinner. Vergil furrowed his brow as he glanced over to him on the bed, sensing his stare through the dark, his in-twin-tion having gone off.
“What is it, Dante?”, he asked, none too pleased to be stared at without a word. Funny how that is.
“Tomorrow, can I come with you to the library too?”, he asked.
“Absolutely not”, Vergil shot back, “That’s my special place, and I won’t have you there to make a mess of things”
“I won’t make a mess..!”, he whined.
“You will”
“I won’t!”
“You will”
“But I wanna hangout with you too, and your friend..! We never hangout anymore! It’s like you like hanging out over there more than you like hanging out with me…”, and… he would’ve argued back that he was being a pain, but hearing the hurt in his voice gave him pause.
“... that’s not… true. I like hanging out with you too”, as much as he would voice his protests, he couldn’t deny the excitement of being so thoroughly tried by his brother. But, he could always play with him, he could do that whenever he wanted. But he didn’t know that you were running out of time.
Not dead! And very much working on the second part of the library fic. I’m glad so many of you liked it enough to request for a sequel!! I think all in all, I want to wrap it up in three parts, so after this one coming up there will be one more. AND!!! Just as a warning, there will be Visions of V spoilers, and some heavy stuff. Which I am not looking forward to writing at all if I’m being honest. But I must.
Headcanons for the Reader & Vergil off of the fic I wrote. Randomly assorted for your viewing pleasure.
Enjoy.
: ̗̀➛ The company the two of you share doesn’t need to be filled with words. You’re more than content with sitting in the silence besides one another, but subtly you will begin to lean towards Vergil, and at first he doesn’t quite like it. He’s still getting used to having you be so close and invading his space. The first time you rest against him, he bristles, almost like a cat. Or a hedgehog with how his hair is styled. It was so cute you couldn’t help but to giggle quietly. But why were you laughing? He’d have half the mind to shove you off as he would with his brother… but you’re soft. He needs to be gentle with you, lest he make you cry or something. What a headache that’d be… so he lets you lean on him. Like he’s some sort of pillow.
It’s annoying. Yes, but you’re warm when he’s cold, and it isn’t hurting him. It’s… enjoyable… he supposed. It becomes routine, something he starts to expect from you now. When you don’t do it on one of your little playdates, he exchanges stares between you and the pages of his own poems. Vergil waits, he can be patient. He knows how to be, but… why aren’t you leaning on him now?
He calls to you, quietly, but the little prince has a bit of expectancy in his tone. Why aren’t you resting your head on him already? And then you tell him it’s because you thought it irritated him and that he might’ve liked his space.
“You’re already here, aren’t you?”
He lifts his hand to your head and nudges it to his side. The two of you can swear to hear someone chuckling from behind the rows… how creepy.
: ̗̀➛ Sometimes he’ll read to you out loud, wanting to recite Blake to you as it’s something near and dear to his heart. You didn’t much care for poetry before meeting him, but listening to Vergil as he reads the lines is soothing. Which, is hilarious, because once you had found his voice to be quite grating. Now when he reads, you listen to his every word, trying to pick out what it means or to ask about certain words you haven’t heard before. It’s one of the times you get to see him smile, as he proudly and happily explains to you what the poem means in full. Vergil even encourages you to read some for yourself and to tell him what you think it means. He’s grown rather curious of your thoughts…
: ̗̀➛ He asks about the stories you read on occasion when the both of you aren’t in the library. Where it’s okay to be a little louder and to not whisper. Fiction isn’t something he likes, only because of how it seems to bore him. When you tell him about the heroes and villains you read about, he often has a bit of critique for them both. Especially if there’s some swordplay to be involved. You wouldn’t have pegged him for being well versed in that sort of thing, granted he seemed like a gentler soul when you got to know him… however, it rather suits him doesn’t it?
You only wonder why a boy so young would ever need to learn to fight…
Still, when he tells you about how he would’ve bested the antagonists of your tales, you’re there to provide why that wouldn’t work or to inform him of an ability he had forgotten that the villain had. Time manipulation, beams of light, and fire balls.
“How would you stop that, Vergil?”
“I’ll become stronger, strong enough to beat that and more..!”, would he keep true to those words?
: ̗̀➛ If you were to get sick or something were to ever come up that prevented you from going to the library to meet him, he’d try to assume his usual spot where you and him would read… but then he’d find himself waiting for you to appear. In spite of himself, Vergil would get up, unable to focus and start to search for you himself. On the next day when you return, he’d sound a little irritated, if only because it was unexpected and he’d been expecting you to be there with him. You’re touched that he missed you, that you could be missed by him. It’s funny to think that when you two first met each other you weren’t getting along too well. But now you’ve become a part of his life, someone to go away to when he’s through with playing with his little brother and honing his skills with the sword. If only he’d know how much he’d come to miss you later on in his life.
The effect you have on him is becoming abundantly clear to Eva and Dante. Who’s this person that his brother steals away to when they aren’t playing together? Who’s this little friend he’s made?
I drafted a set of headcanons for the QPoTL enjoyers with the lil Vergil. I think I’ll finish those before getting started on a part two!! While I’m at it, is there anything you’d like to see more of from me in particular? Been feeling kinda lost on what to write as of late.
A/N: ooh i love this request so much!! i hope these are to your liking dearest anon ♡
𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐘𝐑𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃
it was in the way you sliced not only your foes but the way you sliced through the air as well when you were in battle
you may or may not worship halone but either way you were clearly bestowed the gift of combat prowess by her grace
when you’d have sparring matches together, estinien would never go easy on you as he finds that disrespectful but you knock the breath out of him physically and metaphorically whenever you win
there was a day where the practice match ended in you managing to get estinien’s back to fall atop the ground and you were pointing your weapon’s tip at him proudly from your standing position
“don’t tell me you’ve gone easy on me, wyrmblood,” you smirk
estinien stares up at you with wide eyes as he feels his heart skip a beat
but he quickly schools his elegant elezen features into his usual scowl
“of course not. who do you take me for?”
laughing, you help him up and he swears the contact between your hands ignited something within him, something different and incomparable to nidhogg’s rage that he felt all the time
he comes to find your laugh is like music to his ears
he also realizes he wants to hear more of the sound, and he uses that dry humor of his to elicit more of them from you from that day onwards which results in more small smiles from him
he’s doomed
𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄
when he wrote and poured his heart into the missive that would later grant you and the scions access to ishgard, he stopped at one point after going on a spiel about you in ink
he had unwittingly went on to sing your highest praises and much of it read like a love letter
it was during his reminiscing of your good deeds as he wrote did he realize the pure adoration and emotion he felt for you
haurchefant gets embarrassed by himself, a blush rising to his cheeks as he sets the paper aside to start anew
he was nervous such a prodigious hero as yourself would not return his feelings
not only that but he did not want to risk his father blabbering about the contents of the missive to you
later, he sees you that day and feels his stomach doing somersaults
you were just so radiant, bringing hope and happiness wherever you tread
“be still my beating heart…” he mumbles to himself before he approaches you with a smile
as usual, he was his jovial and enthusiastic, caring self
but if one were to look closely enough, the dead giveaway of his love for you was evident within his eyes as they’d crinkle at the corners with his genuine smiles
𝐀𝐘𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐋
he had always admired you from the moment he started following your expeditions and learning of your successes
but he never knew the extent of how deep his feelings ran for you as time had passed with working with you
it wasn’t until he invites you for a one-on-one dinner within the Borel manor
that evening he got to know you better, and the back and forth conversations you had over steak and wine did nothing but stoke the flames of his growing love
when the topic had shifted to romance, he felt heat circulating within his cheeks
the way you talked about your past lovers however, caused a different heat within him; one that bespoke of jealousy
it was an ugly feeling that twisted him on the inside, one he was not quite familiar with but nevertheless he hid it well
he had asked what you found attractive in a partner eventually totally for the sake of carrying conversation and not because he was curious to see if he was the warrior of light’s type nooooo
aymeric found himself comparing his likeness to your standards and it suddenly hit him with startling clarity mid-way through rejoicing internally that he shared your type’s physical attributes
uh oh
the concern on your face when he lets his mask slip for just a moment makes him fall even harder for you if anything
with his newfound revelation, he says nothing is amiss and diverts your attention towards sharing your experiences with beastmen
In which a little Vergil goes to the library to read as he does, only to find a little Reader there in his spot. Childish shenanigans ensue. Reader is gender neutral, & a little older and taller than baby verge. Headcanons to be released for the Reading Reader...
Enjoy
He usually came by himself to the library, when he wanted to escape his younger brother and find himself alone. The library was peaceful, quiet. The librarian was kind to him, and no one bothered him when he wanted to be left to the words scribed in the texts he’d pick up into his small hands. Opening the old hard covers to press his thumb along the pages, Vergil found comfort in reading the stanzas of the poems he indulged in, a part of him hearing his father’s voice in the back of his mind as he went about it. He was hoping to hear him again while Sparda remained absent from his and his brother’s life. The elder twin just didn’t anticipate seeing someone there in his usual spot.
And that wouldn’t stand.
Already he had to fight with his brother over his things since he just loved to steal and take what was his, but now his most cherished space? He wouldn’t be backing down, in fact, he’d make this person leave. This was his, and rightfully he would be fighting for it. You had a book of your own in your lap, held delicately and with care when you heard a whiny voice screech at you from above. A quick glance upwards showed you the source, a boy with silver hair and stark blue eyes. As blue as the sky.
“Could you leave? This is my spot”, he had proclaimed to you, puffing his little chest out as he looked down at you. He had a sort of princely air to him, arrogant and demanding. So snooty. Who was he, and what right did he have to claim this area as his own? You furrowed your brow before closing your book, already marking where you had last left off. You were here first, and it’s always been first come, first serve.
“No, I got here before you. You should just find some other place to read”, you replied before lifting your hand to shoo him away, like some kind of stray.
Vergil couldn’t have been more offended by the gesture. If it were Dante, he could easily throw a punch or start fighting right here and right now, but he respected the library and what this place had become for him. He wouldn’t defile it over some petty little fight… and yet, he didn’t like that he was to be made to let some stranger sit where he liked to sit. One could suppose that it was the little devil in him wanting to protect his territory, or perhaps it’s the stubbornness a child has when they want something they can’t have. Either way, he refuses to budge, shaking his head to further express his point.
“I’ve been here plenty of times before, and not once have I ever seen you. Leave now or else I’ll make you”, spoke the little prince. You could hardly believe it. You were three years his senior, but he was already pulling rank on you, what if he got the librarian involved? You didn’t want any trouble, especially one that could get you booted out of here, but you also didn’t like the way that he was talking to you. Especially when it felt like he was looking down on you, even when he was standing and you were sitting down.
“So? I’ve been here plenty of times before too, why do I have to leave just because it’s your spot?”, you argued. Vergil frowned when you weren’t getting up to leave like he had asked you, his frustration visible as he took a step closer to you, threatening to take action directly. If he had to push you out, then he would. He didn’t want to share, but he hadn’t actually wanted to get physical. You could tell the librarian and then he’d get in trouble, and the thought of the librarian getting mad with him put a weight on his shoulders that he didn’t want to experience in full.
The step that he took makes you tense up a little, pulling your knees into your chest as you glare up at him with all the indignance you could muster. You wanted this little boy to go away, to leave already. Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Why did he have to be so difficult?
“...”, noticing the change in your body language, Vergil takes another step, smirking as he goes.
Boys could be really mean, you knew this, but was he actually going to hurt you? Over staying in his spot? Jerk. Pursing your lips together, your own frustration leads you to standing up finally to leave. Fine, if he wanted this so badly, you’d just go somewhere else. You could always return whenever he’d leave. Vergil looks up at you as he sees just how much taller you are than him, and yet you didn’t think to use your height against him? Seeing you now, the smirk falls from his face as he watches you grit your jaw.
“Fine, if you want it so bad then you can have it!”, you shove past him, since he was in your way. Walking hurriedly through the shelves, your fleeting form passes him by as he remains where he was, watching you go before huffing. About time… and as he walks over to sit where you once were, the victory doesn’t feel as good as he thought it would. It was warm where you were, not cold like it would’ve been had he arrived first. He had seen the wetness in your eyes just as you left.
Dante didn’t cry when he would have his bouts with his brother, were you so weak that you couldn’t fight back? Clearly you were larger, and probably stronger too, so why didn’t you? As he looked down at his own book, the thought wouldn’t leave his mind. Why did he care? You were an obstacle in his path, and he simply had to move you to the side so that he could get what he wanted. A frown had formed on his face where a smile should’ve been now that he could finally begin to read. Instead of his father’s voice, he heard his mother’s, chastising him for not playing nice.
If she had seen the scene unfold, she would’ve made him apologize or something of that sort. She was always telling him how he had to learn to play nice with others, that it would be important for him. Vergil sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose before allowing the hand to run up to push back his silvery locks. He couldn’t read when this was sitting on his consciousness, it would bug him, and then his brother would poke at him about it which would lead to him confessing this to his mother at one point or another. How troublesome… what would father do?
The right thing.
And that… would be to apologize… but he didn’t do anything wrong! You were some stranger, a no body! What were the chances that he’d even see you again? He came here to read, not to socialize,he got enough of that done with his brother. He was rather tired of having to deal with Dante constantly, especially when his younger brother made it his mission to pester him daily. You weren’t as terrible as Dante, he supposed, you actually left and obeyed him after a bit of pushing. There comes that nagging feeling again as he reflects on it a little more.
He couldn’t focus anymore, his concentration led astray as he glanced up ahead, annoyed with this predicament he had created for himself. Vergil could scarcely recall what he had read anyway. He’ll come to see you tomorrow, when he can muster up the words to say. As he got up to leave, he remembered your face again, the expression you made when he had successfully managed to chase you out. You were on the verge of tears, he hadn’t ever seen anyone look so upset before in his life, not even in drawings or in paintings around the manor. It only twisted at him some more.
Where were you right now? Not crying, he’d hoped. That would be pathetic, and he’d rather not see you again while you were doing that.
But you’d gone home by the time he had left, carrying your book with you and thinking about how much that instance irritated you. Your cheeks bloomed with color, flushed as you fumed about that stupid prince of a boy. Why didn’t you put up more of a fight? Why didn’t you do something? The questions come as you find yourself back home, to be answered when you were likely to see him again back in that place. No matter, you’d come earlier next time, so that he wouldn’t be there to usher you out. Next time, you’d be better prepared.
And so the next time came for when you arrived back at that library, seated back in that very same spot.
Another book was picked out, and your knees were pulled into your chest again as you poured over it within your lap, propped up and open by your hands. You enjoyed works of fiction, of derring-do tales with heroes and heroines, monsters slain by a hero with a sword. Currently, you were sitting on the part where the hero meets with the antagonist for the first time, their meeting having been alluded to in the first chapter. Your eyes were blown wide in anticipation, holding onto every word as they began to fight, brushing their swords together… when a shadow draped itself over you again. You hadn’t noticed it– him–, until he had cleared his throat to get your attention.
How long has it been? You had lost track of time while drifting amongst the pages…
“You again…”, you glanced up as he spoke, letting your eyes sit on him for a moment.
He seemed lost, unsure of what to say until you relinquished your hold to return back to your book. Were the two of you within the scene right now, you’re sure that the characters of this story would’ve much disliked this interruption as well. Things were just getting good too! The boy gathers himself again before he resumes his train of thought.
“What are you doing here?”, he asks. In my spot.
Who ever decided that it was his spot? Did the librarian permit this?
You ignore him, picking up on the sentence you had last read. Hopefully, he’ll get the hint this time and leave you be. If you could ignore him for long enough, then maybe he’d go away on his own. That’s what you had hoped would happen. The little prince glared as you pointedly ignored him. He didn’t want to say that, he didn’t mean to have asked you that as it was blatantly obvious, but the words had tumbled out before he knew what he was saying. Why had you returned here, knowing that this area belonged to him?
“I know you heard me”, he says, his brow furrowing as you go on about your story.
Right now, the hero and the villain were having an intense moment, a speech about ideals being traded amongst the other. The hero was in the right, they always were, but the villain was telling him about how he needed to get stronger. That he could not ever hope to defeat him if he didn’t seek to do the same; that he would never be bested if he didn’t have the strength to do so. The hero had lost in the end, but his fight was far from over. Your gaze softens, the story would be over too soon if the hero had won, but you were looking forward to the antagonist losing the battle. You turn the page to see what happens next, but you don’t get that chance as the book is torn from your hands.
“Hey!”, you look up to him finally.
He looks just as smug as he had on that day, where the two of you met. He held it back and away from you, smirking as he went. This was something that he was so used to having happened to him, the feeling of doing it to another was inexplicably rewarding. Holding this over you gave him a sense of power, and as you sit there powerless, he takes a moment to glance at the cover. It’s different from what he would typically read, not that it was any less interesting.
“Give that back!”, you got up again to reach for it, only for him to take a step back with it still in his reach. Your movements are sluggish, hesitant. Could it be this is your first time ever having to fight for anything? Vergil scoffs.
“If you want it… then you’ll have to take it”, but you already knew that.
You make a face, and he expects you to play into his game.
You just wanted to read in peace, just as he did, but now things have ended up like this. Your height isn’t so daunting as the motivated look behind your eyes. You meet him finally, hands balled up at either side, before you swiftly lift your leg. You didn’t want to have to resort to violence, but it was clear to you that he wouldn’t have listened to parley. Fully expecting him to gasp and fall to the floor in a heap, you’re disturbed to find that he only staggers somewhat, more taken back that you would actually hit him rather than the pain that comes with that delicate area. He looks surprised, but his guard is lowered for just a moment, long enough for you to take your book back. It comes out with ease as you take a step back, away from him with your eyes held wide and alert.
He looks like he means to stop you, reaching to you as you leave him again, hurriedly at that this time. It isn’t how he had planned for things to go. He was going to apologize, he was, but then you looked at him and he lost it. Vergil grunts as he punches the side of a shelf with his tiny fist. He’ll find you again, upon your next meeting, he won’t be burdened by the guilt he thought he had for you. The library was a place for him to leave that sort of thing behind, so that he might have peace of mind. How is that you’re tearing that a part for him too?
He’s too curious to drop it, and too curious to leave it be and to find another spot to read. He wants to see you again, to let you have it. He just hopes that he can keep you as a secret from his brother. Sparda knows that he’ll never let him hear the end of it. Vergil glances over his shoulder as he hears someone approach him from behind, thinking it to be you, only to see the librarian appear. At first, he thought that he might be in trouble, but the old man only asks if he’s alright after that little fight with his friend.
Friend?!
“We aren’t friends..! As if I’d ever be friends with– ugh…”, what is this feeling of nausea that’s hitting him suddenly? Is the thought of being that person’s friend truly so revolting? It couldn’t possibly have been from that kick to his groin. He’s not that weak… but he’ll have to try that move on Dante just to see.
When Vergil eventually returns to the library within the next week, he happens across you again, just as you’re about to go to the spot that the two of you like. He liked it first, but he insists that you stole it. He can’t fathom you having been here before him. Your eyes met his, and his met yours. He stares longer, and for a second, he’s reminded of the warmth that he stole from you when you two first met. You don’t like having him stare at you so intently, so you’re the first to break eye contact.
“... You can have it this time”, you state solemnly, not wanting to fight with this boy again.
“No”, he finally says before he moves his eyes to the floor, “You… can stay this time. I won’t make you leave”, he tells you.
“What? Why? I thought this was your spot?”, you’re about to argue but he grabs your hand and leads you along, dragging you a bit over to where you would ordinarily find yourself seated at. Why the sudden change of heart? Vergil doesn’t say anything to you as he expects you to sit down after you rightfully yank your hand out of his. He was being weird, not that he wasn’t weird already. But now he was being weirder than before, and twice as annoying.
“We can read here together, I’m allowing this, since you won’t leave…”, he says, with some indignation. This boy reminds you of the villain of your story… the both of them act similarly in a way that you can’t place. Now you won’t be harassed while trying to read, but you don’t even know his name.
You tell him yours first, and he seems confused at first.
“That’s my name, so tell me yours”
Why would you want to know that? For a moment, he was sure that you would’ve been more satisfied that he was allowing you to take residence within his space, but now you’re inquiring about his name. Like the two of you could be friends… or something like that.
“Vergil”, he says.
“Like the poet?”, you ask, and then… right there, the idea strikes him as one that is possible.
Loser Wesker practically barking because reader is back and now in hd in Evil Resident™ Remake!!$!$!$!!$
Back from the Dead... sort of.
He hasn't seen them in ages, and as a fan of such an iconic(and unfortunately deceased) character, the smallest crumb or appearance of his favorite Evil Resident character is enough to have him obsessing over the remake just to view the Reader in all their glory. In which, Loser! Wesker starts raving like the fanatic he is over his beloved villain.
When it was first announced that they were remaking the fourth installation of the mainline game, Wesker couldn't say that he really cared, the protagonist of that game wasn't his favorite to play through but it set the foundation for how the future games would play like. The grinding for better weapons wasn't all that great either, and there were certain parts that he'd rather skip over from how tedious they were, and he honestly wouldn't have pre-ordered it had it not been for one very important detail. Since the fifth release of the Evil Resident franchise, you would finally be making a return, and such was teased in the trailer for the remake. He recalls watching it for the first time, with baited breath as the teaser played out. The better graphics was certainly something to behold, but none of that mattered until he saw the familiar outline of your face, only in better detail and played by someone who encompassed the very idea of who you were.
And then, when he didn't think it could be any better than it was, he was graced by that lovely voice of yours. The sweet sound of your timbre elicited a response within himself that could be likened to a starving dog, just about ready to have his treat. Swallowing thickly, he had to calm himself, pressing a gloved hand to his mouth to quickly muffle and suppress the downright joy at finally having his muse return to him. And in such an honorable fashion. Wesker had his doubts, because there was only so much a mere actor could comprehend about you, they likely wouldn't play you to the tune he desired for your image and character... but this was something, something after years of nothing. The only thing he could celebrate your existence through was the erasure of your death via fanfics and indulging in the content that others lovingly crafted for you.
Now he could have more to play with, more content to keep him pacified and sated until the next installment receives its inevitable remake or remaster. You might be nearing the precipice of your death, retold for the next generation, but he would savor every moment he could have with you. Yet again, you're at the front and center of his mind, this time seating yourself(literally) in the center of his screen as he analyzes every subtle movement that he can. Hell, he hasn't even started playing it yet, and he's already taking as many pictures as he can for his designated folder on his hard drive. The devil works hard, but Wesker works harder. And when he finally receives his copy, he cannot help himself but to stare at the paused cutscene where your mocking grin graces his monitor. Observing you closely, he wants to make sure that he gets everything right, equipped with a notebook in hand even.
If you think the slightest thing is getting past his eye, you'd be dead wrong. This close appraisal of your character is imperative to the new wave of fics he has to write now, because if even the slightest detail is off, it will irritate him. Especially if some upity new fan thinks they can unseat him from the throne he has crafted within the community. No one gets you like he does, and Wesker isn't shy of announcing that to the new fans that make abhorrent judgements about your character. The mischaracterization of his beloved muse could very well be his demise, but he would rather die than to let those degenerates capture you all wrong. Your time might've been sparse in the remake, but it was time enough, DLC included.
