Hey, I'm Polaris, been writing for 10+ years and decided to give a try to this blog a few years ago, been here ever since!
Born in 1994, I've answered if minors can interact with me right here
My main art blog is @polariscroquis - I don't use my main blog @polarisdelphi that much anymore.
You can support me on Ko-Fi to, if you feel like it!!
And I also have an Youtube art channel and I'm on Bluesky with my art thing too ^^
I don't take requests, but I do take suggestions!
I'm terribly busy with work, studying and a chronic illness which currently takes a LOT of my time and energy.
That being said, I don't want to take requests and not be able to deliver - that wouldn't be fair to you. So, feel free to leave suggestions! I might be able to work on them when I need a spark of creativity ^^
Masterlist
It's a huge little beast, so it's in 3 parts:
Masterlist Part 1
Masterlist Part 2
Masterlist Part 3
What do I write?
Fanfiction (specific fandoms I know, though, like DMC, Resident Evil, Cyberpunk 2077, others I might want to write sometime...);
Healthy, wholesome relationships;
Slice of life/fluff/mundane daily life;
Horror/thriller/action;
Gore to an extent (you know. Given the things I like, can't avoid some decapitations here and there);
Angst/bittersweet situations;
Very light NSFW. You know, that NSFW that can't really be considered NSFW 'cause it's too vanilla? There you go;
A lot of things based in philosophy/occultism/deep connections. It's a hobby;
Sensitive topics are bound to appear - but I always do my best to warn on the description;
Very rare, but some original works sometimes;
And writer rants :D
What don't I write?
Heavy gore (I usually avoid gore heavy horror movies, not a fan. I'm more into the psychological horror stuff :3);
Torture (REALLY. NOT. A. FAN.);
Incest of any kind;
Romanticizing toxicity, manipulation and horrible behaviors;
Women/men as mindless sexual objects;
Heavy NSFW (I don't have this kind of talent);
Those lists are not exhaustive and might have additions with time ;)
ALSO, I think it's important to note: I always try to write the y/n character as gender neutral as I can, so everyone can read it comfortably. I do avoid pronouns because of that, but do tell me if you find a clandestine pronoun for y/n lost in one of my works!
If you and I agree with those, be welcome, my friend. Have a cup of tea and enjoy ^^
Disclaimer on my DMC OC week posts/fic
It’s a 1000% comfort fanfiction for myself. I’m honestly self indulging in this one and I figured I’d share because of the tag and such ^^
I decided to leave the DMC OC week posts here 'cause this is actually why I started this blog! Feel free not to read it though xD
Summary: The Abyss opening is a rare occurrence. In his youth, Vergil wanted to harness its power, but never thought he would meet his greatest adversary along the way. Years later, the Abyss is once again open and that might call for some rather unlikely alliances.
Age restriction: 18+ - there’s a lot of blood, violence, cursing and all those things people want to forbid younger audiences of seeing. Also, cosmic horror is a thing here. Proceed with caution
In this one we're also starting to see Vergil has dissociation episodes and uses grounding techniques not to have panic attacks
Author’s notes: I hope you guys can forgive me for taking so long to update after I said I wouldn't. Someone in my family had an accident and I had to be around to care for them - been running on low energy for quite a while because it has taken me all my attention and time. I will keep on writing and updating, and I'm thankful for you guys being patient with me "^^
Alsooooo... I love Vergil and reader being two freaks a little bit too excited to be fighting each other again in this chapter 👀
Chapter 11
It all felt like a dream sometimes.
Hearing his own footsteps walking in derelict cities again, while the screeching of far away demons terrorized innocent people, looking like hazy memories of a long gone past… Seen through the lens of dreams; fruits of dissociation moments that kept him alive through the worst torments he could endure.
And that was the word. Endure. Double-edged, bitter and sweet: carrying the bite of a torture and the pride of sheer will. Vergil endured and survived. He didn’t really know how, but he did.
What to do, then, after going through all that pain? How to feel, now that there was more than hurting to be felt? He did take things for granted when he was younger – with such recklessness, such iron will, there was nothing but his goal in front of him. But now… It was even strange, to feel the slightly cold bite of the wind against his face, gradually chapping his dry lips; to feel the ups and downs of different pavements under his feet; the warmness of the blood of the demons he killed, sprinkling over his face and clothes.
And now, back to the human world… Back to the rare openings of the Abyss. Vergil thought he had forgotten how it felt like, but as soon as he stepped on the streets of Mercy Springs, he had that tug in his chest – the one that never forgot how clear his mother’s voice sounded when he tried to reach the Abyss for the very first time.
Vergil also sensed something else… A different kind of stir, that he thought long gone. One that would only cause tempest inside him when the Abyss was near… And that stubborn, prideful human appeared to fight him and fumble all his plans.
Vergil furrowed his eyebrows even further, still walking without any detours or distractions towards where he felt the Abyss could be found. Even while chained under Mundus’ control, he kept seeing that human; that stubborn, arrogant, skilled… Pitiful human, kneeling on the other side of that cold, dark, forgotten place he would always find in his mind – he didn’t know if he was sleeping or awake when those encounters happened, but he did remember them.
And he always wondered why.
Why, out of all the people he had ever met, it was you appearing as a vision…? As broken and shattered as him, looking so… Defeated. Lifeless. It bothered him to always look into your eyes and find that version of you completely voided of light; of the spark of will and survival you carried since the first day you met. A warrior with no reason, torn apart and… Tired.
You deserved better than that. He deserved better than that.
Perhaps you were a mirror – one of many Mundus had put in front of him; to mock him, to humiliate him. To remind him, over and over, he was nothing but a scared child, being maimed and torn apart in a cemetery while terrified, crying for someone to save him. A broken warrior, voided of light, defeated by their own heart.
It didn’t explain why you appeared when his shackles were broken, though. Why it was you who lit up his spark, to try one last time. To survive. No matter the consequences.
“No matter the consequences…” Vergil murmured to himself, encountering a block in his path: one of the buildings around him had collapsed, creating a barrier that was, perhaps, too much for him to cut through. “Hmmm…”
Vergil discreetly looked around, trying to find an alternative path. If there was none, he would have to put Yamato to use and break through that solid wall of building debris. It would take a while, but it would be better than getting lost, trying to find something in a city he did not know.
Even if he was concerned about solving the problem at hand, Vergil did notice a presence shifting the energy around. Quiet steps approached with precision; too elegant and quiet to be his brother’s.
You had sensed the Abyss, as much as he did – but also that presence, that you would only find in your dreams. Upon seeing that man walking with a purpose down the street, you did think that, maybe, your mind was fooling you… That maybe he was another one of the Abyss’ tricks, luring you closer and closer.
You did have to get there, so it wasn’t much of a bad thing.
As he halted at the same place you did earlier – and now you were back from searching an alternative route – you observed him carefully; almost like a predator stalking their prey.
He was different. Of course, it was to be expected after so long, but he wasn’t wearing his signature long blue coat that made you easily find him whenever you met – or thought you met him. Watching him from behind, he held his sword in one of his hands as he always did, but what made you certain it was him, was the regal demeanor that he seemed to carry at all times.
Proud. Arrogant. Ruthless. Even if his long coat was now black and frayed, you were sure.
And you did try to ignore how your heart seemed like it was going to jump out of your throat – you never thought you would be filled with so much joy upon finding, once again, the best adversary you ever had; that he was not dead.
There was still a chance to have him die by your hands.
“After all this time…” Your voice echoed on the silent street, making Vergil slowly turn his head to one side, to look over his shoulder. You could only see the silver of his eyes, but you knew he was back. “Hello, demon.”
It was your voice. Of his enemy. Alive.
Vergil had hopes, but in what seemed to be an eternal torture, he thought it was only a foolish glimmer to be smothered, as all other light inside of him.
But it wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a dissociation episode. It wasn’t a fantasy made up by his mind to have him endure. It was real: the coldness against his cheeks, the faint breeze between his strands of hair, the blood slithering through his fingers, your voice.
It was real, and you were alive.
You held back your reaction to frown in confusion as soon as you saw a smile appearing in his lips. Instead, you slightly raised your head, carrying the proud demeanor you would always bore whenever he was around.
“You still haven’t given up, human…?” He turned around slowly, just like he asked that question. His eyes looked sharper and colder, almost as if a glare was enough to kill one of his foes, and his face carried the years that went by – even after everything, time had kept most of his appearance; but he did have something of harsher and more dangerous since the last time you saw each other.
“You should know better.” Your answer came with a prouder tone, carrying a certainty set in stone as you took out your sword and had it ready to fight – with your head held slightly high, pointing the silver blade to his feet. It wasn’t a fighting stance, and it was deliberate: you were telling him you didn’t have to get ready to attack or defend; you had honed your skills enough to be able to do any of those at lightning speed – and to be able to read him in the blink of an eye. “I don’t give up.”
Vergil, in response, limited himself to raise one brow – considering if, for the first time, you weren’t thinking too highly of your skills. After all… He was a lot more powerful than the last time you fought.
He did enjoy it, though.
“I see reasoning won’t work with you.” Vergil mused, still with a half-smile on his lips, entertained by the thought of fighting you after such a long time – he didn’t have the intention to hurt you, but if you proved to be too much of a nuisance and a delay in getting to the Abyss on time, he would have to deal with you.
“I told you before…” And, as you spoke, Vergil unsheathed the Yamato, keeping the blade in one hand and the sheathe on the other. His eyes turned to a predator gaze, as he slowly walked around, studying how you moved your feet to circle him and figure out the best moment to attack. You couldn’t help but have a small smile on your own lips: no one had ever fought you like he did. “Every time the Abyss opens, I will be here to stop you.”
And you could swear you heard a faint giggle, as he kept his slow and certain circling footwork.
“I wouldn’t wish it otherwise. Human.”
You had almost forgotten how he spoke that word nearly like an insult.
It was as if you both had felt the other was about to attack and didn’t want to leave the pleasure of the first move to the enemy – the moment you raised your sword, was the moment Vergil’s grip on Yamato got tighter and soon you were running towards each other; blades clashing with the strength of skillful attacks, rekindling a rivalry that was never lost.
Vergil had almost forgotten how it was to fight you. Fighting Dante was one thing – he was as strong as Vergil, skilled in his very own way; Dante knew so many different styles and mastered so many different weapons, he was a constant surprise when fighting against. Vergil always knew to expect the unexpected and never take things for granted with his brother – and knew the source of his power derived from his heart.
Fighting Dante was like fighting uncontrollable fire; which would only spread in unpredictable patterns if not smothered of all its oxygen to put it out. You had the same spark of human passion in yourself, but you used it almost like its own weapon: your eyes carefully observed the battle and your opponent, allowing that fire to burn like fuel only in the most opportune moments.
There was a delightful difference between fighting you both: Dante was a trial of skill and power, stemming from the same blood that took different paths and opposite approaches to survival; You were a graceful combat, requiring knowledge of intricate techniques, footwork, opponent reading and pure focus – almost like a grounding meditation, rooting oneself at that very moment, with distraction being harshly punished with blood.
You moved your feet skillfully on the pavement, perfectly complementing his tactical maneuvers – almost as if, for each of his movements, you knew the precise response. As Vergil attacked, you blocked; already with your counter-attack in mind, delivering all his strength back to him.
It was a good thing he was used to blocking powerful blows – after all, Dante didn’t hold back when fighting Vergil.
He was taken slightly aback, though, when you stringed a series of furious attacks, a lot quicker than he remembered you were able to. Something of it resembled his own speed – of course, with the limitations of humans – but it was obvious you put in a lot of training to be able to get to that swiftness.
Vergil couldn’t hold back a quiet smile on the corner of his lips: that meant he could pick up the pace.
You immediately noticed how much faster his counter-attack came – and answered in equal footing, blocking with your blade and already thinking of your next attack. Vergil, though, seemed to be on a mission to see how fast you could be – and how quickly he could attack you.
That was something you learned while fighting him: keeping your eyes on your enemy, at all times. You didn’t divert your attention from his hands, from his blade, from his feet. Looking down, you could see how he was about to step, and you could infer which would be his next attack – and you blocked all the attacks he made rain upon you; skillfully mirroring his steps as you walked backwards, with Vergil pushing you increasingly near the building behind you.
You narrowed your eyes, which made his silvery predator gaze spark with attention. You knew what he was trying to do: if he backed you to the wall, there would be no escape; you would be at his mercy and any evading would become more difficult by the second.
It was a common strategy to lock down your enemy, cornering them in a way it was hard to counter-attack and the only movement they had left was defending until breaking. As soon as you narrowed your eyes, Vergil knew you had picked up on his strategy.
And you countered him faster than he expected.
Before he could get you halfway towards the building, that newly found viciousness of yours sparked again in your fighting; with a flick of the wrist, you found an opening to change from a defensive position to an attack position, and counter the speed at which Vergil was attacking you.
He couldn’t stop himself from finding it interesting, how much you had grown through all those years he was locked in Hell – apparently, you had found someone to practice with, even without him around. Your attacks were now refined as ever, but with an edge of ruthlessness that you seemed to avoid when you were younger… And he could appreciate that.
What Vergil didn’t appreciate, though, was when you started pushing back, making him walk backwards… And, with that, after having one of your attacks blocked by Yamato’s blade, you did something that made him furrow his brows in the middle of the fight: in the blink of an eye, you let go of the hilt of the sword, only to catch it below with your free hand.
And, as Vergil was distracted by watching where your sword was going, he didn’t see your dominant hand flying right to his face – hitting him with a well placed punch that made him stumble back; both in surprise and rage.
Those silvery eyes now carried that spark that you didn’t see in years, but also harbored a burning hatred and an outrage, that it seemed like you had just spat on his shoes and bit your thumb at him – on your very best Capulet spiteful behavior, awakening the indignation of your enemy Montague.
If Vergil didn’t know better, he would say you learned that move from Dante.
His chest stirred with a turmoil he didn’t feel in quite a while as soon as you let out a quick laugh – a fun one, sparkling with enjoyment – and turned your back to him; casually flexing your hand from the impact and going back to a fighting stance.
Vergil fixed his posture, properly getting back on his feet, raising his head in his arrogant stance he would never stop carrying.
“I see you’re savoring your little trick…” His comment was slowly paced, as Vergil always spoke with purpose. You looked back at him, holding your sword with your dominant hand again, having a smart smile on your lips and a piercing look in your eyes. “I see no reason why I shouldn’t enjoy myself either.”
“I did learn a thing or two while you were away, demon…” You couldn’t help the sparkling pride bubbling inside your chest, as you took a more confident stance – forgoing a bit of your defense. “Do your worst.”
Vergil had to smile as he narrowed his eyes: oh, wasn’t hubris always the sentiment that preceded a great fall?
He should know well, for it was the reason of his own – and now, it was like gazing into one of Mundus’ mocking mirrors; having him stare right back at the actions that caused his predicament in the first place.
He knew exactly what to do with you.
Running with that inhuman speed you only witnessed once, Vergil charged in with little consideration to your humanity – and your fragility, comparing to his demonic heritage. You managed to quickly dodge him, stepping away with skillfully trained steps; something Vergil didn’t quite expect.
But he was adapting. Fighting you was like a game of chess, and that meant he had to read your moves and make sure he was at least two steps ahead of you. With the time you’ve been apart, you had added an edge of viciousness to your gracefulness, and, apparently, a certain degree of unpredictability and different fighting styles – mixing moves you wouldn’t before; not remaining purely with sword-fighting.
He had to wonder where you got that from, but that was a question for another time. Vergil knew quite well focusing entirely on the battle at hand was the best way to stay ahead of your moves and, in a blink, he made sense of them. You were faster than before, yes, but not faster than him.
Vergil attacked with both the blade and the sheathe of his sword, barely giving you time to try to parry his attacks, only block. It was your turn to furrow your brows as you felt how stronger his attacks were – almost as if he was holding back before; and something stirred at the base of your stomach, telling you he wasn’t using his full strength yet. It was quite different than the times you fought at the edge of the Abyss, trying to stop each other – and you had to admit, he did grow more powerful after all those years you hadn’t seen him.
As he attacked you with his blade, you prepared to hold back the most powerful of his blows so far – making your arm immediately fly back with the violence of the impact; having you grip your sword for dear life as not to have it escape your hands and leave you helpless. Your eyes left his blade for a moment, quickly passing through his face – making you question if his teeth were elongated like fangs.
An amateur mistake, if you had to be honest with yourself, taking your eyes away from what really mattered: his weapons, his feet, his hands. You didn’t see his other hand coming for a quick, double-hit, follow up attack: holding the sheathe of the Yamato, he hit you with all his might on your torso; almost as if you were kicked by a horse.
The air on your lungs was violently ripped out, escaping your throat as you flew back in the air. The pain made it hard to breathe and you did your best to land on the floor with a little bit of dignity, sliding only on your feet and knees, breaking your fall with one of your hands while still holding tightly to your sword.
You needed some time to be able to take a deep breath – pain ebbing through your lungs as you felt the place in your torso that was hit by the sheathe of the sword reverberating in waves; in your muscles and through your insides.
Looking back at him, you could barely pick up a glance of a quick, conceited laugh – mirroring exactly what you had done moments before – only to be caught unguarded as the demon charged towards you in a blow that would be decisive; certainly ending with your defeat.
It was your turn to burn with outrage – after all, he knew you wouldn’t give up that easily; and it was quite bold of him to assume that fight would end there. In a matter of fact, it wasn’t bold, it was an act of arrogance.
You did tell him to do his worst.
You got yourself back on your feet, holding the hilt of your sword with one hand and the blade with the other, horizontally, right in front of yourself – and catching the piercing final blow Vergil had prepared with the Yamato.
Beautifully calculated, he had to give that to you. A precision he would expect only from his kin, sharing his demonic blood – which could be considered a feat for a human like you.
Pushing him back, you quickly plunged in for another attack, giving him little time to think – that could be an advantage, since he always seemed so focused and calculating. Vergil picked up your new strategy as fast as you picked his prior ones, defending your swift attacks and chaining his own counter-attacks whenever he could expertly fit them.
You did pay attention to his hands, though. After the double attack with the sheathe of his sword, you made sure you wouldn’t fall for that again – and you wanted him to not have that advantage anymore. Both of you were fighting with the same rage bubbling on your insides, and neither wanted to be the one to suffer the next hit.
Still paying attention to his hands, you noticed when he loosened his grip on the hilt of his sword just enough to have it swiftly moving in his hands in order to perfectly chain his attacks and leave you little room for breathing.
And so, you waited for the perfect moment. As soon as you attacked – with the intention of having him easily defend, Vergil answered with a counter-attack, giving you the opportunity you were looking for. The moment he slightly loosened his grip, you exerted yourself, pulling all your strength to swing your sword again a lot faster than you did before, to hit his blade with all your might and disarm your enemy.
Furrowing his brows, Vergil immediately noticed what you were doing and tried to change his move right in the middle of it – a gamble, and one he didn’t like to make: you fooled him into believing he knew your next steps and, once again, bet on the unexpected.
He was too used to battling his brother, though.
Tightening the grip and trying to change in a split second to a defensive stance, Vergil couldn’t do much other than try to put some more strength into his attack in order to disarm you – having your move backfire and leaving you unarmed.
As your blades clashed with a loud thunder, both of you quickly closed your eyes for a second as sparks exploded from the impact – and your arms recoiled from the ferocity of the blow; both Yamato and your silver sword spiraling in the skies, far away from your grips that couldn’t hold them down.
Quickly opening your eyes, you saw as your silver sword landed far away behind him; and Vergil witnessed as Yamato fell in the distance behind you.
Staring at each other, for the first time, you could read the same level of surprise in your eyes – almost as if both of you needed a second to process what had just happened.
The spark that made Vergil awaken from his moment of astonishment was one that fueled the indignation of realizing he was disarmed by a simple human, you for that matter, once again, even after all he had done for power; and you could say the same: a certain burn of anger made your jaw tighten upon noticing it was that demon who had disarmed you – something that shouldn’t have happened again.
To say both of your prides were bubbling inside your chests, fueling your viciousness and thirst for battle, was an understatement.
In spite of that, you weren’t keen on giving him an opening to take advantage of the now obvious power imbalance between you two – something he should do; and something demons always did.
For a second, you thanked Dante for gifting your silver pistol, so many moons ago. You thought you wouldn’t really have a use for it, but now, holding the once blue coated demon at gunpoint, you couldn’t be happier you were wrong.
“Bringing a gun to a sword fight. Tsk.” Vergil’s voice was dripping with contempt, trying to hide how you stirred even more of his outrage by resorting to shooting him. Just like his twin brother.
“It’s a guarantee.” Your answer was as sharp as the blade of your sword, forcing Vergil to look back into your eyes. “The likes of you don’t tend to play fair. I don’t see why I should.”
“Don’t compare me to scum.” His answer was almost a growl – and you could clearly see you hit a nerve. It made you wonder why, though, he wouldn’t like to be compared to other demons; after all, he was one. And a rather proud one, at that. “I am…” Quickly, though, he managed to at least bury that anger and go back to his usual voice tone – albeit with a hint of mocking, faintly seen as well on the corner of his lips. “Surprised you think so low of me.”
You furrowed your brows, resting a dry gaze on that demon. He wasn’t like other demons you had known through your life, and he knew that. You wouldn’t put so much effort into fighting him if you thought he was like the others you killed almost on a daily basis.
“Humpf.” You looked down to your pistol, almost shrugging in the process. That made Vergil watch you with intent – reading what was going to be your next move. Given his speed, he could probably dodge your bullets easily and you would only waste ammo. “This probably won’t be efficient in causing you damage anyway.”
Vergil couldn’t help but to slightly raise his brows as you tossed the pistol aside, completely disarming yourself. He could only make it fair and avoid using his summoned swords.
Barely giving him time to think his next attack, you resorted to the same thing you did when you both first fought the Hell Puppeteer: taking an offensive stance, you were now a lot more proficient in your martial arts training to land a perfect kick on his head – and you could bet he would never see it coming.
Unfortunately, Vergil was also having memories from that day: when you fought perfectly well together, bringing down an extinct demon from the depths of the Abyss, only to disarm each other as soon as the creature was no more.
And only to resort to fighting without your weapons.
He quickly deflected your attack, opting for a defensive stance during a few more attacks: Vergil wanted to know how much you had trained throughout those years and if you would be able to keep up with his pace without your sword – and he could only do that by observing.
You didn’t disappoint; and you knew quite well what he was doing. Almost as if to prove a point, you chained a set of moves with speed and carefully practiced technique.
Vergil was able to block all of them with the same swiftness, a warm wave spreading over his chest as he carried a faint smile on the corner of his lips. It was rather satisfying to see you had improved enough to still give him a good fight and to be considered a worthy opponent.
That ghost of a smile disappeared, though, when your hand scraped his right cheekbone, since he wasn’t so quick in dodging that attack. His predator gaze was back as he turned those silver eyes back to you – and it was almost as if that semblance of a smile transferred from his lips to yours.
But he wouldn’t let you carry it for long.
Switching from his defensive position to offensive, Vergil immediately counter-attacked with a kick; having you quickly change the balance on your legs so you could do your best to block his attack – leaving you with a sore calf. Just like before, Vergil wasn’t really holding back on his strength, knowing you could quite well take the fight and all its consequences.
His attacks were as swift as yours, testing how attuned your reflexes were and how much you could focus on that fight and on his movements without losing the awareness of your surroundings. Every kick, every punch, every move from his fists and his feet were matched by yours – and now, more than ever, it looked like you were both entangled in a dance of death, perfectly in sync.
He had to admit… It was a delight. One he didn’t know he missed after so many years of torture and survival.
And for a moment, Vergil’s movements faltered. For a split of a second you could see his eyebrows furrowing further and the expression of borderline enjoyment cracking from his face – almost as if something was slipping through the cracks of his own self he put on with so much pride.
What if all this was a dream…? One created by his own mind to help him remain… Endure. One elaborate almost reality, when his body was hurt to the point he couldn’t even feel his limbs anymore, when his pride had been violated and paraded for humiliation to the point he couldn’t open his eyes without weeping, when his hope was torn apart into pieces and tossed away along with his heart, to the point he forgot who he even was… Sometimes, it all felt like a dream.
As he faltered, his survival took over enough not to let him fall – and a faint breeze was enough to bring him back to the fight at hand; the slight coldness of the wind on his face, his feet balancing himself on the uneven pavement, the scent of flowers.
Vergil’s silvery eyes looked back to your face as his body kept on expertly answering to all your attacks; survival being the most automatic of instincts for him. But that was when he noticed his teeth taking the shape of fangs and his nails already elongated, almost like claws, which had managed to draw blood from one of your hands while you used them to defend yourself from one of his attacks.
Just like Eva. Human blood had a natural scent that could be compared to flowers; Vergil had arrived to that conclusion ever since he was a child. Eva was as the flowers in her garden, while demons reeked of the most vile of odors.
He hadn’t smelled that scent in years. So much so, that Vergil had forgotten how it was like.
In Hell, he had already grown accustomed to that smell of rot, blood and acre vinegar that permeated not only the place but its residents. For years, Vergil didn’t know what anything else smelled like, having known only that stench of death and decay – needless to say, being back in the human world was quite literally a breath of fresh air.
But your blood… That was a memory. Long forgotten, that he didn’t even know his mind still kept in a hidden place, buried deep inside with all the other things he had to smother to be able to survive. The memory was back, along with the scent of flowers… And that, no dream could recreate – and no demon could simulate in order to torture him even further with a false hope.
Only a human could carry those flowers.
With that, you managed to hit Vergil’s face, having him stumble back a little bit. The demon immediately furrowed his brows, this time in confusion, only to slowly take his thumb up to his mouth and run it over his lower lip – finding he did wipe some blood that you managed to draw from him.
“We’re even.” You slightly waved your bleeding hand as soon as that predator gaze went from his blood to your form – still, you had an almost nonchalant air to your words.
“Hmmm.” And, to your surprise, you could even call that a giggle, as Vergil fixed his posture and ignored the blood on his hands, in order to swipe back the strands of hair that were already falling over his face.
Something about that made your blood boil. As if, so far, he hadn’t put that much effort in your fight – arrogantly fixing his hair even if you had just managed to make him bleed.
You would never entertain the possibility that you had mistaken his amusement for arrogance.
Without thinking twice, you would make sure his hair would come down for good: placing a swift kick to his torso, Vergil lost his balance for a split second and that was enough for you to knock him down; and that took him by surprise.
You used all your weight to wrap your arms around his waist and bring him down with you – and, when Vergil finally understood what happened, he was already on the floor; with you on top of him, holding him down with your legs and ready to hit him with a series of swift punches.
You had Nero to thank for teaching you that move.
More dumbfounded than Vergil, that would be Dante. He had barely reached the street to catch up to his brother, after helping the crew contain a few more demons, only to find you grabbing Vergil wrestling-style and pinning him down on the floor; straddling him right after and ready to punch Vergil until he couldn’t contain his anger anymore.
“What the…” Dante had to stop in his tracks and watch that scene unfolding right before his eyes – and he couldn’t help but remember the first time he met Nero in Fortuna. How the kid pinned him down on the floor the same way and almost made him trigger with how much he relentlessly punched Dante.
Vergil didn’t allow you to land a single punch, though; immediately holding your arms as soon as he noticed your intentions – and as soon as he managed to wake up from his sudden stupor of surprise. Using more of his demonic strength, Vergil tossed you aside as if you didn’t weight more than a bag of candies.
It was the first time he used that kind of strength on you – and the first time you could have an idea of how much he was holding back in order not to cause you any serious injuries. As you slid on the pavement by his side, it suddenly hit you how that demon could have ended you with the flick of a finger if he didn’t have any warrior’s honor.
His shadow towering over you made you snap out of that thought – realizing he had all intention to pin you down as you did with him seconds prior; and, given his strength, you wouldn’t be able to escape his grip even if you fought with all your might. Kicking his torso once again to create some distance, you quickly brought yourself back to your feet; even if you stumbled a little.
You couldn’t win on a fistfight, he had just made that very clear. All this time, it was as if he was indulging you; which only made you grit your teeth. Just when you thought that demon couldn’t get anymore insufferable.
Vergil could read in your eyes that realization of yours, and if he was any good at reading your next steps, the next thing you would do was reach for your silver pistol near your feet.
But of course, you would never do what he expected of you.
Bullets against that demon would be a waste, you still knew that. The best course of action wasn’t to reach for your gun, but for a sword – after all, that seemed to be the only thing that could take him down.
The only problem was that Vergil was still standing between you and your silver sword… So, you swiftly reached for the sword nearby; the one quietly awaiting behind you, watching that dance of death you two seemed to enjoy having engaged in.
And when he realized what you were doing, Vergil widened his eyes and furrowed his brows; that being the last thing he would have expected of you.
Having your fingers around its hilt, you felt the weight of the Yamato for the first time. It was light for its size, but still heavy for a sword of that type – you couldn’t have expected less, since, from what you had observed, it was longer than a traditional sword.
It was just about the size of your silver sword, though, making you only feel slightly strange about the shape and balance. You didn’t grab the sheathe and opted for holding the hilt with both of your hands, since you were used to fighting only with your blade and not a dual wield.
“Huh.” Vergil immediately turned around, scoffing as he made it very obvious he was giving you his back – an act of arrogance, showing you weren’t that much of a threat to him. It was also to avoid having you meet the look of pure offense and anger in his eyes, now that you had Yamato in your hands because he had lost its grip. Again.
As you fixed your posture, already going into a fighting stance, Vergil walked over to your silver sword – and you couldn’t help but to feel your chest tightening. It was your sword, made-to-order by the Guard to be perfect only to your hands, and no one else aside from you had wielded it – not even Dante.
And there he was. That once blue coated demon, taking your sword in his hands; his fingers wrapping around the hilt and lifting it as if it was made of silk.
You wondered for a second if he had felt the same outrage when you lifted his sword from the floor.
Vergil did find the weight of your blade quite strange – lighter, so that a human like you could easily handle it, but no less deadlier than other swords. It was sharp and well cared for, embellished with a few golden motifs that reminded him of water. It was more than just a well cared for sword, and your appreciation for it showed.
Turning back around, Vergil found you ready to fight, gazing intently at the sword in his hands – and something inside him was strangely thankful you were as annoyed as he was to have your sword being held, and about to be wielded, by your archenemy.
“Oh, that’s not good…” Dante shook his head, watching as if you two were about to rip each other to pieces. “Time to put ‘em on time out.”
“Still want me to do my worst…?” Vergil’s taunt came with a faint smile teasing on the corner of his lips, predator eyes ready to pierce through you.
If you couldn’t control your feelings so expertly, you would have charged in to strip that smile away from him with your bare fists.
“Hmmm.” Although, you couldn’t help but smile back, mirroring his stare and immediately releasing that rage in your heart to charge in. Vergil didn’t take even a second to do the same.
“Oh, c’mon, Vergil…” Dante rolled his eyes, instantly running towards you both as soon as you charged towards each other.
He did wonder, though, if Vergil would ever give him a break.
My beautiful little critters, I rise from the depths of my crypt to finally talk to you hahahaha
I know I said I was going to update more frequently, but a few things happened since my last post:
My birthday was a horrible mess, as expected, a family member had an accident, as unexpected, and my health got wonky, as expected in the unexpected 🖤
Took me a while to get back on track with the unexpected family emergency, but when things calmed down a bit my body just decided to stop functioning (I manage to be very calm and ok on high stress situations but my body has a delayed reaction later).
Since I'm recovering and I seem to be a little better now - and the family emergencies seem to be subsiding a bit, with everyone managing to get used to the new routines - I'll be back to writing and updating.
1st priority is updating Nemesis again hahaha luckily I have a bunch of chapters already written, so you guys won't have to wait that much for it.
On a little funny side note: I stopped playing Baldur's Gate for months and with everything going on I decided to go back to it to decompress a little. Was checking where I stopped story-wise and... oh, of course. Of course I stopped just before the clown at the circus.
(needless to say, yours truly is afraid of clowns, and even if I have brought that before on a Dante chapter of one of the Halloween specials, I might write something along those lines HAHAHAHA just so you know where I'm taking my crazy inspiration from xD)
Dante & Vergil with an s/o who doesn't enjoy their birthday
Pairings: Dante x Reader; Vergil x Reader
Summary: Unspoken rule of the Devil May Cry: no one talks about your birthday. You’ve always been very adamant on disliking celebrations and wanting to treat it as just a normal, uneventful day. And your lover respects that… To some degree. After all, he just wants you to be happy.
Author’s notes: Yours truly birthday is coming up and, as you can guess, I don’t like it – for a myriad of personal reasons. If you’re anything like me 1 – I’m so sorry and I wished you could enjoy it better and 2 – I hope this can at least bring you something nice in that time 🖤
DISCLAIMER: The Vergil one gets very emotional and a little heavy. Also, there’s a whole thing of him giving his s/o a little bracelet with his name on it: I now realized some people might read it as a toxic/marking kind of thing, but it ISN’T. My parents had a very old people custom of giving their baby a gold bracelet with the baby’s name engraved on it. I still have mine, as my sister has hers, and I thought it’d be right up Sparda and Eva’s alley to do something like that. I wanted Vergil to give his s/o something special; and if it was me, I would give my partner my bracelet with my name I got when I was born. Not a property thing, but as a piece of something so intimate to me. Sappy, I know.
Dante
If Dante knew you well, he was certain you would drown yourself in work until you passed out on the shop’s couch as soon as you crossed the heavy Devil May Cry doors.
It had been a very long time Dante didn’t celebrate his birthday – but, once, he did tell you when he was born, and you quietly appeared with enough so just the two of you could celebrate.
“Guess what I got for us tonight…?” You had a satisfied smile on your face, as you placed two boxes of pizza on the desk while Dante curiously watched you from his chair.
“Pizza, from the likes of it…!” He giggled, taking his feet of the desk and leaning on it – as you did the same, your face close to his. And that beautiful, smart, devilish and loving smile on your lips. Dante could kiss them to oblivion.
“A very special kind of pizza. C’mon, cowboy, humor me.” You tilted your head, playing a little with his strands of hair. Dante smiled but he did furrow his brows a bit – now that his hair was a little longer, you took a liking to playing with his locks; but only when you were in flirty mode.
And that was a little rare.
“Special, huh? Let’s see ‘bout that…”
Opening the pizza box, Dante found a pizza packed with chocolate and sprinkles of the same kind, covered in sliced strawberries and having some of them spell ‘Happy Birthday, Dante”, with a little happy face on the side.
You wished you could keep his shocked expression etched in your mind forever. The way he raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth, completely at loss of words – which was quite rare for him – made your heart soar and a bright smile shine on your lips.
“You did this for me, babe…? C’mon, you shouldn’t have…”
And you could swear those were tears marinating in his sky-blue eyes.
“I should, and I will. Every year, til the end of time.” You giggled, leaning even further on the desk so you could grab his dumbfounded face and place a passionate kiss on those beautiful lips. “Happy birthday, Dante. I love you, big guy.”
“Well, I love you too, babe. This…” And he looked down at the pizza again, with that happy little strawberry face smiling at him. “This is nice. Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. You’re stuck with this forever now.”
And Dante really hoped he was.
He knew very well why you didn’t take a liking to your own birthday, and, honestly, the first time he heard about it… Well, to say it was one of the things that fueled his Devil Trigger every time he remembered it, was an understatement.
Dante just crossed his arms and listened to it seriously, as he always did, and gave it the solemn treatment it deserved, but his heart boiled. If he could argue with every single person in the world that made you dislike the day you were supposed to celebrate your own life, he would; but, unfortunately, he couldn’t.
Whenever he complained about it, though, you pointed out his own disdain for his birthday – and he always said it was different. The irony wasn’t lost in you, but, perhaps, you really deserved each other in all aspects of life – even that one.
Dante sighed while reading the brownie powder cake mix packet, leaning on the kitchen counter. It had been a week you’ve been telling him you wanted to do your brownie recipe – which was, in fact, just a brownie cake mix you added your own spin to – but everything had been so hectic you didn’t have the time to work on it.
Given it was your birthday, Dante was now on a mission to prepare your brownies, that you wanted so bad to eat but couldn’t prepare yet.
“Hey, Dante? Got your call, I’m here…!” Nero’s voice echoed from the shop, as the kid quickly came in through the front door. “Lady’s helpin’ y/n with the job and… Where the hell are you…?”
“Back here, kid…!” Dante screamed back, hearing Nero immediately approaching with his heavy combat boots.
“Lost somethin’ in there…?” Nero’s head came through the door, one eyebrow raised. “You’re really not the kitchen type, ya know.”
“Hey, we all have our moments.” Dante shrugged, smiling back at his nephew. Nero furrowed his brows, fully entering the kitchen.
“So. Nico took Lady and y/n to work, like you asked.” The kid crossed his arms, curiously eyeing the package in Dante’s hands. “You said you needed my help? What’s up?”
“Bet’cha know how to make one of these.” And Dante threw the cake mix over to Nero, who caught it immediately. And furrowed his brows even further upon reading what it was. “Must’ve watched your girl doin’ it, right?”
“Kyrie doesn’t really use cake mixes… She likes doin’ everythin’ from scratch, ya know? Says it tastes better.” Nero raised his aquamarine eyes from the packet to Dante – who was still leaning on the kitchen counter, with his arms crossed. And Nero was completely lost on what was going on. “Wait. Lemme get this straight. You called me here to help you… With a cake mix?”
“It’s y/n’s birthday. I wanna make ‘em somethin’ special.” Dante now had a gentle smile on his lips as it seemed like Nero had a whole bucket of water dropped on him – and his eyes carried shock alongside horror.
“Y/n’s… Birthday?! I didn’t know that!! I didn’t even…!”
“Ei, chill out, kid. Y/n doesn’t like talkin’ ‘bout it, I’m the only one who knows.” Dante sighed, taking the cake mix from his nephew and putting it back on the kitchen counter, trying to at least start doing something. “I figured I could trust you with that.”
“Oh. Oh. Yeah, well… Yeah. You can trust me, just…” And Nero was the pure representation of confusion. As his uncle walked around the kitchen gathering the ingredients, he tried to make sense of what was going on. “I, hmmm. Y/n’s pretty private ‘bout some things, huh…?”
“They sure are, kid.”
Dante didn’t even look back to answer Nero, making him know that was as far as he would go into that subject – it also made him know you must have had a pretty good reason to avoid it so much. And that stung Nero’s heart.
“Hmmm… Says here ya need a bakin’ tray. Where can I find one of those…?”
“Under the sink. I dunno which one y/n uses.” Dante pointed at a small cabinet, to which Nero immediately walked over too.
“Don’t worry, Kyrie told me some stuff ‘bout bakin’ trays. You gotta know how to choose the size…!”
Dante couldn’t help but smile, watching his nephew promptly helping without even asking more about it. Nero understood, as Dante knew he would. After all, he had something different than everyone at the Order of the Sword, something Dante sensed years ago just by watching him from afar – and it wasn’t the blood of Sparda they shared.
Nero did inherit his power from Vergil – but he got his heart from Eva.
*
It had been a long day.
You could feel every single muscle in your body starting to complain – and you knew it was just a matter of time before you started feeling the aftermath of that day’s job.
Still, it wasn’t that bad. You could at least take your mind off things and keep yourself busy, without sulking in self-pity or just sitting around, staring at the wall, waiting for the day to be over.
You did need a shower, though.
Suddenly, the peace and quiet of the Devil May Cry at the beginning of the evening was disrupted by the sound of, well, everything violently clashing in the kitchen.
You immediately took your hand to one of your guns, ready to shoot.
“I told you not to leave it there, kid…!”
“Well, your bossin’ around ain’t helpin’!”
That was… Nero? And Dante? Arguing in the kitchen…? You narrowed your eyes, putting your gun away. Whatever the hell those two were doing, you were certain the kitchen would be looking like the aftermath of a battlefield.
“Hmmm… Dante? Nero? Everything alright in there…?” You asked as you approached with caution.
After all, the only reason you could think of for those two being in the kitchen was demons. And kitchen demons were a very annoying kind.
“Y/n…!” You heard both of them almost screaming at the same time, and a cacophony of noises – as if they were trying to get everything back in place before you could get there.
“Don’t come in! Everythin’ is fine, babe!” And that was Dante, with a nervous laugh, forcing his laid-back everyday tone – but you knew him quite well to know everything was not fine.
“You don’t need to come here…! We got everythin’ under control!!” And Nero followed, as bad as his uncle in pretending you shouldn’t be worried.
You and Kyrie constantly talked about how similar they were in that aspect.
“Are we having a kitchen demon infestation…? Because if we are, I swear…” You sighed, already dreading the nightmare that would be to get those creatures out of there.
“No demonic infestations, of that you can be sure!” And Nero almost jumped out of the kitchen – you even had suspicions Dante pushed him out while locking himself in. The kid in front of you had a big smile on his face, not wearing his coat and…
“Is that choco…?”
Before you could finish speaking, though, he took you in a tight hug, lifting you from the floor as he did so. You couldn’t help but yelp and hold him tightly back, with your feet dangling from side to side as Nero gently swayed you.
“Hmmm, are you ok? Do you have a fever…? Is that how half-demons react when they’re sick?” Of course, you couldn’t refrain from teasing him a little bit. Nero was one to be honest about his feelings, but not so upfront like that.
Although, he was a hugger, just like Dante. You just had to unlock that level of intimacy and trust with him.
“Ei, I’m just happy to see you! Can’t hug my fave devil hunter anymore?” Nero swayed you a little more until placing you back on the floor – that proud smile still on his lips.
“Oh, I’m your favorite now?” You laughed back, making him giggle a little bit with that slightly embarrassed demeanor he always got when he was afraid of having been a little too much. “You just gave me material to tease everyone in the shop for eternity now, kid. They will never have a single day of peace after today.”
“Well, what can I say. You are the most competent out of the bunch in here.”
“Ya know, I can hear ya, kid…!” And once again you heard Dante’s voice from the kitchen, having your attention back to that.
“So, what’s going on? You two were locked in there and there’s some chocolate in your face, kid.” You finally pointed out, making him immediately search for it to rub it out.
So far, they were doing a very poor job at lowering your suspicions.
“Is the kitchen ok…?”
“Fine. You don’t have to worry, c’mon…!” Nero physically turned you around, gently pushing you away from the kitchen.
“But…”
“Ya know, you’re kinda needing a shower.”
“Are you calling me stinky, kid…?!” You couldn’t help but to try to turn around and argue. Now he managed to divert your attention – and Nero had to laugh about it.
“I mean, you’re covered in demon blood…”
“You guys always come back worse! You…!”
“Hey, it’s just like you always tell me…” And now, he had the same playful voice he used with the children whenever he was teasing them to get them to do something. “A shower doesn’t hurt…!”
“Oh, you’re the worst…!” You had to roll your eyes – but you also had to smile upon hearing Nero laughing behind you. When you got to the foot of the stairs, you turned around; going up one step to at least be a little taller next to him. “I am going to take a shower, but only because I need to. When I come back, you guys better tell me what in the hell is going on.”
“Don’t’cha worry ‘bout it, y/n. We will.” He winked back at you, watching dutifully as you went upstairs to make sure you wouldn’t come back as soon as he turned his back. “Stinky hunter…!”
“Oh, get outta here…!” You rolled your eyes, hearing as Nero laughed on his way back to the kitchen.
You did smile, though. It was nice having him around.
*
“Oh, hey there, cowboy. Finally decided to leave your mystery kitchen to say hi to me?”
As you went down the last steps of the stairs, still drying your hair with the towel, you finally saw Dante – putting away a few things in that mess of a side table near the couch, so he could fit better something that looked like a baking tray.
You did smell sugary treats, but something inside you kept telling it was nothing but your delirious mind making up a few things.
“Well, now that you got me here, you’ll have my undivided attention, babe…!” Dante opened his arms, flashing one of those rather convinced smiles he always did when you said something that indicated how much you liked being around him.
“Oh, what a joy.” You had all the intention to make it sound as a chore, joking around as you always would, but the smile on your face denounced how much you really liked to be with Dante.
As soon as you reached him, you threw the towel on the couch and pulled him for a rather long kiss. He expected you to kiss him, yes, but not for that long – almost as if you wanted to forget time was a concept and just enjoy his company.
Dante’s heart would always melt when realizing that.
“Please tell me we don’t have an infestation in the kitchen.” You had your eyes closed, whispering those words while barely separating from Dante’s lips; so much he could still feel them brushing on his, your hot breath warming his own.
“No infestation. That, I promise.” Dante’s voice was a little lower, with a giggle in his tone, while his hands rested on your hips and mindlessly caressed you.
You had an infestation once. Your fears were very much valid.
“So…” You sighed, finally opening your eyes and leaning back a little bit – sill in his arms, now taking your time to look into those wonderful sky-blue eyes you loved so much. And Dante loved how you liked brushing his rogue strands of hair away from them so you could gaze at him better. “What gives?”
“Got somethin’ for ya.” Dante placed another quick kiss on your lips, letting you go as he walked over to the bar and leaned on it, nodding at the table he was organizing as you arrived. “Kid had to go back home, but he also left his regards.”
When you looked down on the table, you found your old and battered baking tray with a perfectly good batch of brownies. They weren’t cut in squares, though, because on top of it, there were a bunch of mini-marshmallows spelling “happy birthday, y/n” with a smiley face underneath it.
A little wonky and somewhat melted and charred, but still.
You furrowed your brows as a smile colored your lips – and Dante himself had to mirror your smile as he saw your eyes fill up with tears; even if you would deny it to death if he pointed it out. All the time, he watched you; how you seemed so taken aback and emotional over a, quite frankly, very underwhelming batch of brownies.
“Mini-marshmallows were Nero’s idea. I swear that kid has so much of Vergil in him.” Dante still had his arms crossed, casually leaning on the bar, as if it was just another day in the shop. As you raised your glossy eyes to him, he opened a bright smile – one you loved seeing in him. “Happy birthday, babe.”
You smiled, placing your hands on your hips and shaking your head, while closing your eyes as you did so – or else, your tears would go down your face, even if you didn’t want them to. Dante couldn’t help but admire your reaction, always so glad he could make you smile like that.
“You didn’t have to…”
“I wanted to.” As he answered, you looked back at him again; finding Dante approaching you again – now with his usual laid-back demeanor of always. “Plus, it isn’t the nicest brownies around…”
“It’s the nicest thing someone has done for me in a while, big guy.” You immediately held one of his hands, pulling him back to yourself before Dante could start downplaying his own actions. “Thank you. Really.”
“No need to thank me, babe. I’ll do it a thousand times if I have to.”
“You do know what that means, right…?” You placed both of your hands on his face, pulling Dante for another kiss. He would never complain about it – kissing you like that, was one of the very few things Dante would never deny in his life. “Nero knows too much now. I’ll have to kill him.”
Dante closed his eyes and broke in a good laugh while lowering his head, your hands still cradling his face. He expected everything but that.
“C’mon, the kid did a good job. He can keep a secret.” As he looked back at you and raised his head, Dante was still trying to stop laughing. He would never get tired of you – and your sense of humor.
“Hmmm. Same secret of what the hell you both did to the kitchen…?”
“Yeah, ‘bout that. You don’t wanna go in there, ‘k?” Dante raised one eyebrow, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and starting to walk with you towards the couch. “Kid’s gonna help me with that durin’ the week. We have more important business to attend to now.”
“Such as…?” And you did sit down as Dante signaled you to do so, such an uncharacteristic compliant act from your part. He did take note of that.
“I got us some movies and the brownies for the night. Enough to stay up ‘til the sun comes out again, if you wanna.” Dante winked at you, grabbing the baking tray and offering it to you – along with two forks. “Startin’ out with Zorro.”
“Oh, so it’s Zorro night eating brownies with mini-marshmallows straight out of the pan while cuddling with you in the couch…?” As you asked, already holding the tray, you watched as Dante put on the movie on that old TV Morrison was always fixing every now and then. As your red devil turned around, already looking like he was going to tell you it was all he had to offer, you put the tray aside and took one of his hands, pulling him to the couch. “I’m starting to think I’ve done something pretty good in my life to have all of this right now. It sounds perfect, cowboy.”
“Well… I’m glad you think so, sheriff.”
And that was, indeed, how you both spent the night – the brownies, even if a little charred on the edges, were exactly how you liked them; and the movies, were the ones you always enjoyed watching. As the hours passed, and so did your time spent together, sleep quietly found you both – and none of you wanted to leave the couch, as you slept in Dante’s arms.
He did wake up after a few minutes in slumber, thinking it would be better to carry you to the room since the bed was decidedly more comfortable than staying there. But, as soon as Dante looked down at you, he didn’t have the heart to wake you up – you had your head leaning on his chest, eyebrows relaxed and a faint, chocolate-smudged smile on your lips. When he moved a little, you wrapped your arms a little tighter around him, your head instinctively moving to the place in his chest over his heart – and Dante remembered when you told him once, a little drifting into sleep, how much you enjoyed listening to his heartbeat.
And so, he closed his eyes once more, wrapping his arms a little tighter around you. Dante failed to see, though, how your smile appeared to brighten up as he did so – and he also wouldn’t know how much you appreciated your birthday this time.
Vergil
The last time Vergil had celebrated his birthday, he was a child.
Well, that was, before being with you. After spending so much time in his own path for power, he almost forgot what a birthday was – or, at least, that was what he wanted to do. Vergil wanted to erase that memory just like all other beautiful ones that could make that little light of humanity survive in his heart.
Of course, it was a weakness, as he always thought – and it was used by Mundus in his myriad of tortures. Those memories of beautiful days alongside his father, his mother and his brother; with chocolate cakes and a couple of presents; with smiles, gentle touches, warm hugs and little fun competitions with his twin. Vergil did want to have a day just for himself, but, whenever he celebrated with Dante… He couldn’t help but think it would be so alien not to have someone to share that joy with.
Locked down in Hell, completely alone, wishing for Death to take him away from that suffering, Vergil didn’t know what that joy was anymore. The memory of it ever happening only made it more painful; and, after a while, unbearable.
You didn’t push him when he mentioned not celebrating his birthday. You were only curious about the date, but as soon as Vergil mentioned how unimportant it was to him, you didn’t argue.
It was only one day, when he found a fancy chocolate muffin on his belongings, inside a little see-through box wrapped around with a beautiful blue ribbon, that Vergil remembered. When he took the little box between his fingers, he also noticed a new book – antique, a little frayed at the edges, with a heavy fabric cover and golden, worn-out letters and filigrees embellishing the tome. Opening it, there was his name written in fancy lettering, with a little message underneath “happy birthday, my love”, crowned with a small heart at the end.
Vergil took a deep breath, the book still in his hands.
It was quiet. Thoughtful. Intimate. At this point in his life he despised everything that was too loud or drew too much attention to himself – Vergil wanted peace and quiet, and time for his own thoughts. The fact you managed to respect that and still show him how much you cared…
He took a sharp breath as he closed the book. An original first edition of an old tome, which must have taken a long time to find and cost even more. He furrowed his brows even further, trying to understand the violent stirring inside his chest.
It was kind. So kind. A manner of kindness he did not deserve.
And you always seemed to remember how much he loved chocolate.
Taking the muffin in one hand and the book with the other alongside Yamato, Vergil walked out of the room on a mission to find you – his brows still deeply furrowed as he scanned the whole place in his search.
It didn’t take long for him to find you on one of the places you’d always be whenever you were both on a break: by the window, sitting on a stool while painting one of the beautiful landscapes you had found on a book or a magazine, wanting to try your hand at the colors and shapes.
As if nothing was happening and there was nothing of special on that day.
“Oh, love, do come over and help me here a bit, please…” You barely looked at him, having your attention on your painting. Nothing out of the ordinary: Vergil had good eyes and a keen sense for beauty, so you would constantly ask him for opinions on your work.
When you extended him your free hand, while still looking at the canvas, Vergil put aside the muffin on the side table with your painting supplies, promptly holding the hand you were offering. And, as soon as you realized how tightly he was holding, you immediately turned around – knowing it was Vergil’s way of saying he needed to talk to you.
And you were promptly met with a kiss. A deep, passionate kiss, taking longer than you would ever have expected.
Not that you were expecting. In a fact, it was one of the rare moments Vergil caught you completely by surprise.
“Everything ok…?” You whispered as soon as he broke the kiss, resting his forehead on yours; his hot breath still rhythmically brushing your lips.
“Thank you.”
You only smiled, having your eyes closed as well as he. You knew Vergil wouldn’t say much more than that, at least not in that moment, but it was enough; considering how hard it was for him.
He spent quite a while with his forehead leaning on yours that day, and you didn’t brush him away. You never deemed Vergil too much, or too dramatic, or too emotional; whenever something like that happened, you only accepted him with open arms and few words, until he himself was ready to do more about his feelings.
It was quite understandable, then, for him to be so vexed when you told him you didn’t want anything to be done in your birthday. Vergil listened quietly and only what you were comfortable enough to tell him; and he didn’t make a fuss about it – something you would always be very thankful about your lover.
But it did bother him. To think a creature like yourself, who always thought of others and did your best to show them how much they were wanted, how much they were loved, didn’t want the same kindness extended to yourself was… Unfair.
And unfairness was always something that bothered Vergil’s heart, as much as he wanted to pretend he didn’t have one.
Apparently, you also wanted to pretend your heart didn’t exist… That you didn’t care. But Vergil knew quite well how much avoidance came from feeling too much, caring too much. From wanting to shut everything good down because expecting and not receiving was much worse than cutting every wish right at the bud, never allowing it to blossom.
With you… He did allow some flowers to blossom for the first time; tending to the small, quiet and rather secret little garden he had in himself, with some fear to have those flowers violently maimed and destroyed as before; but this time knowing there was a little more safety for them to grow… And someone like you to help protect and care for them.
Vergil wanted to extend to you the same grace.
And that was why he found himself standing in what was left of his childhood home once more, after so many years.
*
As Vergil’s steps went through the debris of the entrance, its echoes rippled in his mind like the memories of what he had done to win… To survive.
At that point in his life, defeating Dante wasn’t just to end a feud, it was for himself. So Vergil wouldn’t have to look back at all the things he had done and admit that, after all the time, he had been wrong and power wasn’t the only thing he needed. That Dante, even not as powerful as him, would always win, no matter what.
That Dante, who didn’t sacrifice everything like Vergil did, would always win because of his heart.
When he was dying, when he was fading, writhing in that never-ending suffering that burned his heart just like that fateful night, all Vergil wanted was to survive… To win. To tell himself he did the only thing he could have done and that power was the only thing that could have kept him safe. That someone was to blame for all that pain, that Dante was to blame.
And he was so blind. If he wanted, he could have had a very different life, but he couldn’t see. He chose not to see.
“There was nothing you could’ve done differently, after everything that was done to you. You were just a child and you did your best with what you had at the moment.”
Vergil had to close his eyes, a ghostly smile gracing his lips as he stood in the living room, before his family’s blighted portrait – as he did years prior. Whenever his thoughts started spiraling out of control, constantly blaming him in that endless parade of self-flagellation, your voice always echoed in his mind; a glimmer of light to pull him out of all that darkness.
“You have to learn to forgive yourself for not knowing how to properly handle what happened to you.”
As Vergil opened his eyes again, he rested his silvery gaze on his father and his mother. Would they be able to forgive him, if they knew…? He was there, after all, and that was what really mattered – alive, breathing, trying to live a new life after… Everything. He knew his father would see things from that more practical approach, so to speak, but his mother… Would Eva ever forgive him? Would her human heart have room for empathy for his actions…?
Vergil frowned after a couple of seconds watching her painted face; after all, his mind was playing tricks on him and he could swear he saw her gently smiling.
*
He didn’t expect much to have survived the fire. There was little left from what once was his home, but he did have a very faint light of hope in his heart that he could find what he was looking for.
Upstairs, it was a lot more difficult to walk than on the first floor; precisely because one never knew if the structure could hold some weight. Vergil walked slowly, with precise steps, always hearing for some creaking or rumbling that could indicate the floor was about to give out.
The fall wouldn’t kill him, but… He didn’t want the structure to fade away. A stupid little dying wish from his silly human heart, yes, but he didn’t want his childhood home to be completely lost to memory. There was a sense that, with it being there, everything did happen: he did have a family, he did have a home, he did have a happy life; even if it didn’t last too long. If that house crumbled…
Vergil understood quite well why you always enjoyed Blade Runner so much – and why you always cried when you heard everything would be lost, like tears in the rain. He didn’t want his home to crumble. He didn’t want his life, his history, his family to become tears in the rain… At least, not for the moment. His heart wasn’t ready for that yet.
After a careful walk down that silent corridor, Vergil spotted the door he was looking for: his bedroom.
To be honest, it barely had a door anymore. He gently pushed the piece of charred wood that was left on the broken hinges, as a horrible creaking slowly dragged it open – luckily, it didn’t crumble away.
Vergil stood by the door for a while, watching the room quietly. Everything was so dark: there was only a few rays of light that managed to slither through the blocked windows, but everything else was as if bathed in charcoal. He couldn’t make out the silhouette of any of his stuffed animals or toys, even his favorite ones, only being able to identify the bigger things: his bed, desk, chairs, wardrobe… Only parts of a whole, eaten away by fire and decay.
He wasn’t sure he would be able to enter. Not because of the crumbling floor, but because of his heart. It was so stupid, and so easy: he just had to put one foot in front of the other and walk in. Just walk in. Hardly the most impossible thing he had ever done.
And still… It felt like it. As if his feet were weighed down, unable to move. He couldn’t lift them, neither to move forward nor to move back. He could just… Stand. Watch. Feel the air in his lungs running out, as if that stuffed heat in the atmosphere hadn’t left after all those years.
It was pathetic.
Trying to move his feet, Vergil did manage to take one of them off the floor, only to step almost in the same spot it was before. His heart raced in his chest and Vergil couldn’t move. Those silvery eyes went back into his room, searching the thing he was there for, thinking that maybe, if he spotted it, he would be able to walk again.
But how was he going to find something that was hidden? Vergil sighed upon his own stupidity: he knew where it was, where he had left it long ago. It was just a completely illogical wish of his anxiety flooded mind to find it in a different place.
Vergil closed his eyes. He wouldn’t get anywhere like that. Taking a deep breath, he rolled his shoulders back rhythmically, slowly getting his heartbeat at a normal pace again. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, going back there… But he could do that for you.
Opening his eyes again, Vergil raised his head and took a step in.
And the world didn’t seem to end. Of course.
“Foolish human heart…” He mumbled under his breath, almost rolling his eyes at himself. Such a drama to do something so mundane.
“You have to offer yourself some kindness, the same you always offer me. You don’t have to be strong and stoic all the time.”
Once again, your voice echoed through his mind, as the gentle reminders you always worked so hard to etch into his soul even. Vergil couldn’t help but lightly shake his head, with a tired sigh he would only let out around you.
“Kindness is easier to be offered to the likes of you, dear saint…” Vergil knew you couldn’t hear him nor his words would be known by anyone; but, after so long on his own, surviving completely alone, he took a habit of talking to himself and having conversations in his own mind.
Something you were very aware of and, thankfully, never teased him for it.
“Thus from your lips, by mine, thine sin is purged.”
Vergil did stop in the middle of his room, closing his eyes once more – but this time, trying to control the hot flushing of blood immediately running to his face. He could also hear your giggle, from when you told him that adaptation of Juliet’s line from Shakespeare’s work, after the first time he called you “dear saint” – and how you kissed him, so passionately, right after; causing him to freeze for a few seconds, the same way as he was at the moment.
If only he could purge all his sins with kisses of yours. By now, he would probably be absolved from his crimes, how many of them you liked to place all over him.
Taking a deep breath once again, Vergil opened his eyes. Everything was strangely where he last left them – the fire, even if all consuming, didn’t move his things out of their place. Piles of books were still where Vergil last arranged them, his small clothes hanging inside what was left of the closet, the rug still a little too much to the left, his wooden sword almost all gone by his bed side.
With his careful steps, Vergil unconsciously ran his fingers at the top of the remnants of his desk – with a touch so light, he could barely feel the texture of the wrecked furniture. Just like the rest of the house, he wasn’t ready to have it all gone; he wanted his room to stay there, at least just for a little while. He wanted to be sure that, at some point in time, young Vergil did exist; and he was happy.
Getting to his bed, Vergil stopped by its side and tested the floorboards with his weight – even forcing a little bit by bouncing a couple of times. The spot near the head, by the wall, seemed sturdy enough; and so, he knelt, looking under the burned covers that draped over the edge of the mattress.
The satisfaction that flooded his chest poured over his lips as Vergil smiled, seeing it had been there all that time. Badly burned, yes, but apparently his bed was enough to take most of the damage for the things he left underneath it.
Pulling out a wooden box – which, once, was beautiful and carefully embellished, with iron details and a clasp to avoid prying hands – Vergil placed it over the nearest furniture so he could check its contents while standing.
It was a delight to know most of the things he kept in there were almost intact. An old book, a little jewelry box and…
Vergil’s smile slipped through his lips like water, as his eyes found it. His fingers fidgeted, as his hands hesitated to touch it… Scared it would crumble and that memory would fade away; that part of that little Vergil who hid it under his bed.
A little teddy bear.
Now with its caramel fur all dirty and slightly charred, glassy eyes with one of them almost falling out, with a big, beautiful blue bow around his neck – now dirty and frayed at the edges, but Vergil could remember as if it was yesterday, when Eva’s delicate hands tied it so gently around the bear’s neck, so they would know it belonged to him.
It was his favorite plush as a child. As they grew up, Dante teased him for still sleeping with his little teddy bear, but Vergil didn’t want to throw it away – after Sparda disappeared, whenever the nights were too dark and he was afraid of demons coming in silence, he would hold his teddy bear and close his eyes, telling himself everything would be alright.
And so, young Vergil would hide the plush in his prized wooden box under his bed: the one where he would keep all things he didn’t want Dante to touch. He had a hunch Eva knew about it; and whenever his mother mentioned, vaguely, a box under his bed, she just flashed him a knowing smile, as if it was their secret. As if she knew Dante would take everything Vergil owned and be not so careful with them; and, if Vergil kept them there, it was because he loved them too much to risk losing them.
Vergil took the little teddy bear in his hands, finally resting Yamato by the bed side. Now, it looked so small – just like his room: somehow, in his mind, it was a lot bigger than it now was. Vergil unconsciously ran one of his hands over the little plush’s head, almost too gently, trying to carefully get the falling eye back where it belonged.
It seemed so much bigger when he was a child. Everything seemed bigger when he was a child. And now, it was small, just like his room, just like everything else. Vergil’s hands were big, calloused, rough, used to blood and pain – quite different from those young hands, so small, smooth, soft, used to kindness and gentleness.
That little torn teddy bear, having survived for so long, forgotten in the dark aftermath of such violence… That once had been so much loved and cared for, that Vergil would keep it in that box so he could take out during the night, holding it during his darkest hours. That bear, now so little in his monstrous hands.
Vergil sat down at the edge of his old bed, forgetting, for a moment, that it could all collapse with his weight – but it didn’t; as if it remembered he was the one to safely sleep in there and call it his own.
Looking down at that little bear in his devilish hands, Vergil tried to fix its frayed blue bow as carefully as he could, without even realizing how a tear dripped from his face on the plush, clearing one of those glassy, dirty eyes.
He wished his tears could wash away all the charred remnants of the evil that destroyed that house. But all Vergil could do at that moment, was to hold his little teddy bear in his hands and cry – for all the things that were lost that night, including that little child who used to sleep in that bed.
*
You were quite thankful for how normal Vergil acted towards you that entire day.
He hadn’t told anyone in the crew about your birthday – and so, you managed to work normally with Dante and Lady without any grand gestures and celebrations. That kind of peace followed you throughout the whole day; until you got home and found Vergil calmly reading one of his own books, greeting you with a normal, uneventful kiss.
Before you took your well deserved shower for that evening, he did tell you he had ran a few errands, slaying some demons along the way – nothing out of the ordinary.
“I was wondering if you would like to watch something later, perhaps…?” Was the only thing a little out of place he said, but Vergil did enjoy to watch movies with you.
It wasn’t everyday you both weren’t too tired to do so, though, so it wasn’t that much of a daily thing – and you could see it as a way for him recognizing it was your birthday without being too obvious about it.
And you could always appreciate that.
After your shower then, you met him again in the living room, already thinking what you could have as diner. Maybe he would be interested in some Chinese food – after all, Vergil was very skilled with chopsticks.
But he was nowhere to be found.
“Vergil…? Are you…?”
“Here, love.” And you heard a dark giggle as you almost jumped out of your own skin. He was very skilled at being silent, too. “Do apologize.”
“I still have to get used to that...” You giggled back, shaking your head with a sigh, while Vergil had his hands clasped behind himself.
“I think both of us need to get used to plenty of new things.” As he spoke, you looked back at him, slightly furrowing your brows – after all, Vergil did have a faint smile coloring his lips. “I did run some important errands today… May I?”
You found it even stranger when he asked for your left hand, but you did place it on his. You noticed Vergil left something over the desk by your side, although your attention was immediately caught by a delicate chain with a small plaque he gently placed around your wrist. After clasping it securely in place, not too tight but also not lose enough so it wouldn’t spin around your arm, he fixed the bracelet to have the little plaque atop of your wrist.
It was quite old and even dirty, oxidized with time and somewhat rough because of the dirt, but it was easy to see it was made of pure gold – and, on that delicate plaque, with embellished lettering, it was written Vergil.
“When we were born, my parents made each of us a gold bracelet with our names on it. An old custom that perhaps is already lost.” Vergil considered, still gently holding your hand and admiring his old bracelet on your wrist. “As we grew older, my father had the bracelet length elongated, so we could still wear it in adulthood. I think it looks better on you.”
With that, Vergil placed a rather long kiss on your fingers, as you took a little time to understand what was going on. That was one of his most prized belongings, and he did tell you how he liked proudly wearing it as a child – but decided to keep it safe as the chain broke during a fight with Dante once, even if Eva skillfully put the links back into place.
Something so delicate, so regal, so holy didn’t fit him anymore, at least that was how Vergil saw it. He wanted to give you something special, a part of himself you could keep with you at all times… And that bracelet, the one made for when he was just an untainted baby, seemed like the best thing he could give.
It was one of the very few things Vergil had left – from that lost child he mourned earlier in his broken home.
“I also… Wanted you to have this.” Before you could say anything or even react, he took the book he left on the desk by your side, offering it to you.
Vergil wouldn’t say more, as he hoped the book could speak for itself.
Inferno, by Dante Alighieri. You had a bit of confusion in your eyes, as you gently felt the red leather of the book – strangely charred around the edges – with worn out golden filigrees that created the intricate artwork of the cover. Opening it, Vergil only watched you with gentle eyes, carefully admiring every single one of your reactions.
You could swear your heart stopped for a moment as you read the name written on the first page – Sparda, with a calligraphy that wasn’t from Vergil or from Dante. It looked old, as the pages were spotted and yellowed… And, on a smaller lettering, a little message “happy birthday, my love” – now, from a calligraphy you knew quite well.
“Vergil, I…” You didn’t even realize when your eyes filled with tears; you just felt them as you looked up at him and saw Vergil scintillating among the water.
“These are the kinds of gifts worth giving.” And even if he wasn’t one to interrupt you, he was one to call you out – especially when you were resistant to accept some love. “Please, don’t refuse them. It’s all I have.”
“Oh, I would never refuse them, Vergil…” Your answer was a whisper, as you fought your very heart, trying to keep your tears in your eyes – and failing beautifully, if Vergil had to point it out, for you had a beautiful smile spreading on your lips; probably from the golden warmth that flooded your chest. “It’s so much more than…”
“Don’t say you don’t deserve it.” He mirrored your whisper, placing one of his hands on your face, gently wiping a few of the tears away. “I’d say I don’t deserve you either, yet here we are.”
“Here we are indeed.” You whispered back with a giggle, as Vergil genuinely smiled back at watching your happiness – after all, you always knew how sincere it was from watching it spreading through his eyes, melting that icy silvery gaze at least for a little while.
You reached for him, placing a long, soothing kiss on his lips. It always warmed your heart how he always seemed so stiff at the first few seconds, only to thaw into it and pour around you like water; like a melting of the frost he always carried in his eyes. You were one of the very few people in the world who ever got to experience a warmer side of his, and that you would cherish forever as one of the greatest gifts.
To think you deserved to have that – a love so quiet, so warm, so respectful… Definitely not an easy one, but welcoming and embracing, something that honored your boundaries and still went to great lengths – silently, through actions that were worth more than a million winged words – to show you how precious and loved you were… That was much more than you had ever dreamed of.
“Nothing comes from nothing…” As you parted your lips from Vergil’s, you could barely take them away enough from him; still brushing his as you started singing, with Vergil slightly furrowing his brows in confusion. “Nothing ever could… So, somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good.”
Oh, he knew exactly what you were singing – and why. And the irony wasn’t lost in Vergil of you singing it to him… When he should be the one talking about his wicked past.
“For here you are standing there loving me…” He answered quietly, reciting more than singing – but still, a rare, rare occurrence. Your own heart was humming alongside him. “Whether or not you should.”
“So, somewhere in my youth…”
“Or childhood.” Vergil couldn’t hold back one of his dark giggles, seeing how much you seemed to glow with his prompt answer to your singing.
“I must have done something good.” You didn’t always sing together, but when you did, both of you found it rather delightful how well your voices danced together – even if his was much more contained and spoken rather than proper singing.
It was decided, then, you would spend the night watching The Sound of Music.
*
Or at least, that was what you both expected you could do – having not planned sleeping in each other’s arms, right on the couch, under a set of warm blankets and the movie’s music embracing you both like a quiet lullaby.
At some point in the night, Vergil did wake up and move around so you would both properly lay down, with you snuggled in his arms almost hiding your face on his chest, as he kept you warm and safe; turning the TV off and having only soft drops of the rain outside as something to gently keep you in your slumber.
Looking down at you in his arms, Vergil lightly caressed your hair, noticing how peaceful you seemed – the worry left your brows and the corners of your mouth, as you almost appeared to be softly smiling; gently dreaming in his company, of all creatures.
To think a dear saint like yourself would give a devil like him any chance of expiation, as mild as it could be, offering him your heart while asking for nothing in return…
Vergil never really understood how you could extend him so much grace, even after knowing of all his transgressions. Perhaps… Perhaps you had in your heart the same thing his mother had when it came to loving his father; even when Sparda was, in fact, a demon out of Hell.
“Perhaps I had a wicked childhood…” As you slept, Vergil could sing to himself; in the quietness of the dark, when no one else was watching and he was the only one to hear his whispered words. “Perhaps I had a miserable youth… But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past, there must have been a moment of truth…”
As he placed a sleepy kiss at the top of your head, Vergil closed his eyes, holding you a little tighter against his chest. He did, however, miss by a fraction of a second the pleased smile you allowed to spread over your tired lips.
You didn’t know when among many miserable birthdays it happened for you to deserve that now… But you knew, somewhere in there, you must have done something good.
Oh, Leon. I loved you as a teen and I still love you now 🖤
Requiem has been living rent free in my head the last couple of days. The concepts, especially the character's, are all so good I could write a 15 page post about it hahahaha
I'll settle with painting everyone, though. It'll be a good set of studies ^^
Also, whenever I'm feeling a little uninspired at arting, I go back to my comfort zone and things I know I can do well - paintings like this one. It's how my mom taught me to draw, and it's what I do when I'm overwhelmed and just need to relax. Maybe it's a tip for someone out there 😉
—-
As always, I’m very bad at self-promotion, so I’ll just leave some links below where you can ~also*~ support my work if you feel like it! “^^
Ko-Fi | Bluesky | Commission Info
*comments/likes/reblogs are already support and I’m very very grateful!! 🖤
Because I do take 100k years to reblog my own stuff, but just quickly passing by to show my RE gremlins this painting I made of Leon after watching Requiem I'm so proud of it :')
I've been getting some comments in Survivor's Blood precisely because of RE9 I think, and I'll try my best to get it going as well alongside Nemesis ✊🏻😞
I might also have a thing for other RE characters right now too and I'm not ok with it :)
Hi I hope you're well! I've been reread all you DMC stuff lately. Your work is always a treat. I have been thinking of this suggestion forever but what if the dlc guys had a fellow cambion lover or even a nephilim lover?
Oh hi there!! Thank you so much for your kindness, dear, it's always great to see you again! I'm quite happy to hear how much you enjoy my work - I've been away for a while and it's comments like yours that makes writing still worth it 🖤🖤🖤
Regarding your suggestion, first: I LOVE IT HAHAHA; secondly, I've worked on the nephilim one precisely because we never really hear of angels in the DMC universe, so I thought this might be fun ;)
not discarding the cambion one too, I'm probably gonna do one as well later
I will do in bullet point form, since it isn't much of a scenario per se, but a "how would they act with (…)" sort of thing.
(don't be shy to send me scenarios/ideas. I can't promise I'll be able to work on all of them, but I do need inspiration sometimes "^^)
So without further ado...
Dante & Vergil with a nephilim s/o (half angel/half human)
Dante
Would 10/10 call his s/o "angel" and adjacent nicknames all the time. "Lil' angel", "cherub", "pretty wings", "lil' light", whatever he can make up in his head that refers to the angel part, he's using it. The cheesier, the better - you know how the man works;
Would also find it fascinating, having believed angels to be more of a tale rather than reality. Yes, given demons exist, angels must exist too, but in all his life he had never seen one - until finding them;
Very much would play it off first, even laughing with a "whaddya know, even Heaven decided to show up this time!" if meeting his s/o during a job and they happen to be a hunter as well;
low key would think how BAD the situation has to be for a nephilim to get involved, though
100% the type to ask the question everyone is thinking but aren't brave enough to ask "isn't that a sin for angels…?"
But only after they got to a certain level of friendship - Dante is a himbo, but he knows how to read the room. Foolishness, yes, being an inconvenient asshole who gets people uncomfortable by asking borderline harassing questions… Never;
our red devil has standards (his s/o would appreciate that very much);
If both are in the hunting business, I can see Dante being interested about how it affects his s/o. Powers, instincts, knowledge… He lives for his job, he loves what he does, so when finding someone who is exactly like him but an opposite, so to speak, he would be very curious;
In a laid-back, Dante, chit-chat kind of way, you know. Lounging at the shop at a lazy afternoon when business is slow, and then "hey, that sword you carry 'round… it's power is what? Light? Does it work like that for all angels…?"
And that's how they spend a whole afternoon talking, exchanging knowledge on how their powers happen and how they use it to hunt;
One thing he would absolutely love…? His s/o using Ebony and Ivory, charging shots with their power - instead of coming out like his deep red, demonic infused shots, comes out as burning white, angelic infused shots;
Dante is all wide-eyed, heart bursting inside his chest, completely taken aback, ready to burst in confetti just like in his monologue with Agnus HAHAHA;
Jokes aside, Ebony and Ivory are his pride and joy, having an s/o using his most prized weapons with an angelic power? 15/10 they'd have Dante's heart forever;
Because, and that's where it gets interesting, Dante is the human-side loving kind of guy. He will always think what in the actual fuck is his s/o, a half angel, doing with a half demon like him;
Dante's self-loathing isn't news, but it is something that would come in strong with him (it does even with a full human s/o): he think he's no good. He's a monster that will eventually get everyone he loves killed. And now, he has an angel with him, supposedly one of the purest creatures out there, with a soul made of only good. WHAT in the Heaven's are they doing with him, a soul made of darkness, forged in the fiery pit? He's one to think his s/o is accepting scraps and shouldn't be with a damned creature like him;
So that would be something for them to work through and get over together. His s/o would have a lot of work in their hands;
But honestly? I think it's something Dante can get over, with time, patience and care from his lover. His s/o would have to grab his face with both hands and do the "there's no one I love most in this world and there is no heart and soul more beautiful and kind that I have ever met than yours - I love you and if you were so horrible as you say you are, you would have never been able to have me giving my heart to you so willingly" speech. You know, the one we all wanna do with this guy;
Dante would feel flattered, though. To be chosen by a half human, half angel. That's the best of all worlds in his humble opinion, and the man would feel like he does have a good heart, after all. That his soul is not made only by the darkness passed on by his father's blood;
He is also 1000% the type to make stupid angel/demon jokes all the time to lighten up the mood too;
And don't get me started on bad pick up lines;
His s/o is just casually waiting somewhere, Dante shows up with that half smile on his lips and "Is Heaven falling apart? 'Cause I could swear, an angel fell just right before me" and proceeds to slightly wiggle his brows;
It works. We can't deny, he's a goof, the pick up lines are bad, but the worst they are, the more they work. It's like magic, and at this point his s/o believes is part of his demonic power;
Another thing: if his s/o has an Angel Trigger form just like he has a Devil Trigger form…? This man is completely smitten;
Also would accept it very well and naturally - the type to stop and watch his s/o fighting in that form for the first time and… Just take in. The view, the realization of how angels are supposed to look like, and how that angel has given him their heart. He sees true beauty in something people would mostly be scared of;
11/10 would slowly approach for a kiss, after all the observing and thinking. They are two beasts who found each other, and he can understand everything that comes out when triggering. Would slap an "you're a beautiful piece of Heaven, babe" right after the kiss - bonus points if he's in his Devil Trigger form too;
what? I'm not immune to DT propaganda
But also: Dante is the reason why the whole crew is scared of their Angel Trigger. One day asking around, his s/o finds out it's because Dante said they're closer to a biblically accurate angel with thousands of eyes and wings coming out in weird shapes with the distorted "fEaR nOt" voice and now everyone is absolutely scared of triggering them (Nero included);
His s/o wants to kill him (affectionate). And they will never be able to shake that fame until someone else witnesses their trigger;
it's kinda useful sometimes, though
Dante compensates with massages and allowing his s/o to steal the strawberries from his sundaes ;)
Vergil
Would be a lot more versed on angel knowledge than his twin, to be honest. Probably has read about it in an obscure arcane book at a forbidden library somewhere and knows angels exist - although has never really seen one;
He will be the kind to pick up something different in his s/o energy, upon meeting for the first time. A slightly different feel, something of the sort, since Vergil is probably very much attuned to energy;
I say that, 'cause if I'm not wrong (I might be though, I'm writing off the top of my head after recently playing DMC 3), Yamato is Dark attuned, while Beowulf is Light attuned. Therefore, Vergil must be very much attuned and comfortable to Dark - and I'm going by the fact Yamato is practically an extension of himself (his DT has even a built in sheathe in his arm) and he is 24/7 holding it like it's a duty;
So, a different sort of energy must ring like a bell by his side - and it would be something he definitely never felt before. To say this man would be intrigued is an understatement;
Quiet intrigued, though. Probably staring his s/o like a predator, but that's only because Vergil doesn't really know how to drop that look from his eyes;
100% the type to spend hours having conversations about how they work - and I mean mostly regarding their, you guessed it, power;
Not because crazy-power-trip-Vergil is back, but because of all the reasons we know why Vergil has sacrificed so much to achieve true power. He is curious about something he never got to see with his own eyes, and so he would want to learn;
And listen, this man has a thirst for learning everything he can - all the reading, all the training, all the power thing… It's all learning. And so, I think he would absolutely revel in sitting and quietly listening to everything his s/o has to tell him about their condition;
He would also be one to draw parallels between his own life, his own way of discovering and learning about his demonic power, how to control it, how to harness it and how to use it;
10/10 would offer to help with tapping more into their angelic power the same way he does with his demonic power. Vergil is very attuned to that part of himself, so if he ever realized it's a very similar "condition", he would think it would be a waste if his s/o didn't use it to their highest potential;
Now I think he would silently feel a sort of… Mirroring, for the first time in his life. Always living between two worlds, never being fully human nor fully devil, we all know about Vergil's inferiority complex. He would be able to see that in someone other than his brother, and to see a different and yet so similar experience of never belonging anywhere. And, in that non-belonging, he would find that sense in someone else who is a mirror opposite of him;
A weird feeling for Vergil, to say the very least. But probably something that would make him feel even closer to his s/o, finally having a sense of belonging like he never really tasted before;
We all know too how proud he is of his demonic heritage, so he wouldn't have Dante's self-loathing. Vergil would find very intriguing, and quite amusing actually, how he is half demon and his s/o is half angel. Almost like an Yin and Yang, opposites finding the light and the dark within each other's lightness and darkness, and seamlessly belonging together. Almost… Poetic;
Enter V reciting one of William Blake's works
What would be a sort of looming shadow, though: his time in Hell under Mundus and as Nelo Angelo. Vergil has a lot of demons locked in tight chains inside himself, and he has seen and endured horrors most people would never even dream of. He certainly can't think of himself with an angel, of all kinds of creatures… And he is terrified of losing them;
Because let's be honest: his life was only loss, blood, harshness, Hell and destruction. Vergil is a survivor who learned to live the law of the jungle, he doesn't know how to have a normal, ok life - and I wouldn't find it strange if his heart harbored a jealousy for the people who seemingly live happy, lovely, normal lives. He never had that, and when he experiences that for the first time… In comes the crippling fear of losing his Heaven, hitting him like a truck;
So he would have this fear at the base of his stomach of losing it all - especially of his s/o having a change of heart and realizing that they are an angel and he is a demon after all, and it could never work. Or worse: all his enemies he made in his time in Hell - including the worst of them, Mundus - knowing of his piece of Heaven and murdering it in cold blood, only to hurt him again. That is a real, primal fear in his soul;
Doesn't really talk about it, though. Emotionally constipated man, Vergil wears that cold, stoic face and brushes it off, even though his s/o knows something is gnawing at his heart. It is something they would have to learn to deal with;
I know I'm missing some little fun scenes and details with him like I did for Dante, but it's precisely because of how difficult it is for Vergil to express his feelings. He is one to love deeply, in a way it hurts even, but he will almost never show;
Sometimes a brush on his beloved's hand, sometimes giving them a loving look, sometimes referring to them as "love" or "my angel" - or, *gasp*, kissing their hand. To get to a level on their relationship for him to do anything else and become more comfortable in showing more of his love, it takes a long, long time;
If it was V, he'd be reciting whole romantic plays in the deepest hours of the night offering roses and his heart, but it's Vergil. He does it mentally or in his dreams, while on the outside just looking at his s/o and "you are my paradise" - of course, dying inside after, spending whole months self-loathing for being so vulnerable and asking himself why did he say that out loud. This whole time, his s/o thinks he's ok, concentrated on his latest read that he never seems to finish;
Now, what about Angel Trigger, I hear you ask…? *insert here Sailor Moon cheekily laughing like dumbass*
Vergil would absolutely, utterly, truly, madly, deeply L O V E it;
the man is intense, I don't make the rules
We all know how passionate he is regarding his own heritage and how proud he is - that would certainly extend to his s/o;
And, you know, differently than his twin, Vergil has absolutely no issue with being feared; I'd even go as far as saying he likes it. So, he would probably low key enjoy if people feared his s/o in their Angel Trigger form - crew included;
He would admire them like a vision of Heaven itself, stopping his fighting just to watch - and probably wonder how he ended up with such a great creature by his side (in comes the fear of losing them, but he, as always, buries deep inside him). Would trigger and stride in wide steps with summoned swords murdering every demon in sight just to have the chance to place a rather passionate kiss in his s/o's triggered lips, making sure everyone is watching the true power of a Devil and an Angel;
I told you he's intense
Power Trigger couple? Yes. Power Trigger couple. And Vergil is all-in for that;
Also 15/10 the type to sync his triggering with his s/o so they'd fight side by side as Angel and Demon in a low key poetic manner. Would never admit it, though.
Hello, we are back with the utter silliness hahahaha
I managed to get two clips of Vergil kicking demons right in the face, so I'm here to share them with you xD
1st and 2nd clips: just plain ol' Verge being absolutely dOnE and kicking demons. Added slow mo 'cause sometimes it's too fast and you can barely see it
3rd clip: it's a bonus. You can recharge DT slots faster with Yamato - if you taunt and stay still, you can see a dark aura around Vergil and DT recovers pretty fast (this man can literally farm aura, now you're all aware of it xD)
Things you cannot see: me, feeling avenged, screaming a big HELL YEAH when Vergil killed that annoying green plasma flying octopus thing (soul eater!) with a kick 'cause in that Bloody Palace run, those things were being such a pain.
For some reason that kick with Vergil is so funny to me
Also, the Yamato thing. That's the reason why I never need white orbs/devil stars with Vergil, you can just recharge on the go if you got enough time to just stand there, menacingly HAHAHA
Also, may I present to all of you who never played it on a PS2: Devil May Cry 3! Hahaha it still works! 🥳
But I also noticed, having recently played the Enhanced Edition on my laptop, THIS version was ESPECIALLY difficult. Going through Normal difficulty is a P A I N, while on PC it's a breeze.
I was so right to hate Vergil and how fucking hard he was to get through on this hahaha
Summary: The Sparda household needs to re-learn what cozy rainy days feels like. Luckily, they have you around to remind them - and some hot chocolate.
Author’s notes: This theme was suggested by @randomshit618 a long time ago and I finally go to writing it! I've been meaning to post for a while now, but I took my most recent vaccine shot and I can barely get up from bed (writing it from my comfy confinements right now ^^). But I wanted to let you guys know I haven't forgotten you!
Also, I'll be working on the other suggestions from the asks soon!
And, if you're in Brazil, I know we're having a displaced Carnaval and everyone's up to have fun, but do stay safe, ok? It's been a while and people are completely careless, accidents are bound to happen. So take care of yourselves ^^
Restrictions: Dante's is kinda of a follow up from a Sky-Blue Kind of Rain - so he's kinda in a depressive mood. Vergil starts his after waking up from night terrors, so I thought I should warn you.
Dante
A Sky-Blue Kind of Rain
“Say… You never spent cozy rainy days at home?” Your question made Dante smile a little while both of you walked back home. He had his hands tucked in his pockets and you carried your huge sword as if it was nothing.
Sometimes, you wished you had his power of just summoning his sword out of his very being – but you had to settle with your humanity.
“Well… Never really had much of a cozy home.” He shrugged back; a little humorless giggle hidden at the end of his phrase. “I remember mom used to read us stories… Ya know, I was kinda scared of big thunderstorms when I was a kid.”
“I’m still scared of big thunderstorms.” You made sure to note that as soon as you noticed he was a little uneasy to admit that. Dante’s smile grew on his lips, and you marked that as a win. “They always made the lights go out back in the home I grew up. But I do like rain.”
“Yeah… It’s kinda… Soothing.” Dante’s voice got a little lost in the water by the end, while his eyes took in the skies.
He deserved all the peace he could get. Sometimes, you wanted to scream for it to register on his brain – but some other times, you just wanted to cuddle that huge, buffed demon hunter who carried such a wounded heart.
“It is. And you’ll get to know what a cozy rainy day at home looks like, even if it is the last thing I do.” And your voice was so sure of yourself, Dante couldn’t hold back the genuine laugh that played on his lips.
You almost tackled Dante so he would take a warm shower – a cozy one, to wash that cold rainwater that soaked both of you to your bones. He asked you to come along, but knowing your red devil, you’d spend the whole rest of the day under the water just because.
And, as much as you’d like to do that, the water bill wouldn’t pay itself by the end of the month. It was fine for him to take a longer sort of shower – but the two of you in it would make the water bill stratospherically absurd.
So, you decided to avoid that.
Instead, you took your time by yourself to settle in the kitchen.
“Gotta say, it’s been a long time I don’t smell something like this…”
As you turned around, you met Dante leaning by the door frame, his arms crossed in front of his chest, but carrying a faint smile on his lips. You could see his sky-blue eyes under his pearly white hair – so amusing how it reminded you of when he was younger in his old red vest and black turtleneck, what he used to wear when you first met.
“Chocolate…?” It was a guess; and stripped off the certainty Dante always carried in his voice.
His spirit was tired. You could see it in his eyes.
“Yeah. I took a look at the recipe notebook Kyrie gave me and found a really good and quick brownie recipe.” You winked at him, leaning on the counter while holding the wooden spoon, filled with the chocolaty batter, on one of your hands. “And don’t worry, big guy. I’m working on some strawberry jam so you can use it as a syrup and appease your thirst for berries.”
“Huh, you didn’t have to worry about that, babe… Mom did make some choco cakes for us sometimes.” Dante’s smile was a little absent minded, leaving the door frame to lazily approach you. “Though Verge was more of the chocolate freak. Me, I’ve always been more into strawberries.”
“Bet Eva made strawberry choco cakes and that solved all her problems.” You smiled back at him as Dante stopped in front of you, playing with your hands for a while.
“Well, you are as brilliant as her, babe.” Dante confirmed with a small smile and a wink, making you giggle in response. “Need some help tidying things up?”
“Of course. I was waiting for you to start that part of my mission… My favorite, if you wanna know.” You winked back at your red devil and, letting go of his hands only to offer him the bowl and the wooden spoon you used to prepare the batter. You did scrape the bowl the best way you could, but, as usual, some of the batter always remained.
And that was the best part.
“Ok. Want me to wash the baking pan too, later…?” Dante wasn’t even going to argue nor was he in a mood to banter. You were already taking care of him, the least he could do was clean the dishes.
Or so he thought.
“Who said anything about washing, cowboy…?” You raised one eyebrow, protectively taking the bowl and spoon away from him. Dante tilted his head, trying to understand what you meant. “Ok. There was a thing my mom always did at my home. And my aunt. And my grandma. And I’m pretty sure it’s a family thing, so pay close attention, red devil…”
Dante seemed to take your words seriously, leaning in to listen to you better, showing how much he cared. Both of you never had much structure, and you were struggling to create your own. Step by step, putting pieces together like a mosaic, you and Dante were building a life the way you liked it – and sometimes, you had memories from your childhood that you wanted to bring back. Little things that meant something, for you and for him, that you wanted to share in that new life you were piecing together.
It wasn’t much – but, for Dante, those things meant the world.
“After they baked a tasty cake, they always gave me the spoon and the bowl…” You were almost solemn, making Dante expect an old, respectful family tradition. “So I’d scrape the hell out of it and eat the batter, making the washing process a whole lot easier.”
“Ha, your mom let you eat unbaked batter…?” And that made a soothing smile appear on his lips. Dante’s eyes still carried some of that sadness that appeared in the pouring rain as you worked that day, but there was also a vulnerability – something he would only allow himself to show by your side. “That’s one hell of a family tradition.”
“And my grandma too, big guy.” You winked back at him, placing the kitchen utensils on the counter right by your side, making Dante lean on it next to you as soon as you did the same. “Put those hands to work, babe.”
With those words, you slid your index finger inside the bowl, taking some of the batter and offering to him. Dante didn’t argue: carefully, he held your hand to lick the chocolate you offered.
“Ya know… This is better than I expected.” His eyes were still sad, but with a glint of fun as he leaned more of his weight on his elbows, lazily placed by yours on the kitchen counter.
“I know. It isn’t exactly healthy, but we can allow some luxuries during rainy days.” You smiled back, cleaning a little bit of chocolate from his lower lip. “Wanna help me clean this up?”
“Gotta keep up with your family traditions.” It was Dante’s turn to smile to you, watching as you seemed to glow with a peaceful happiness while getting ready to eat all the batter that remained on the spoon. “It’s a nice thing to do on rainy days.”
“Indeed.” You mumbled, making him chuckle as the corners of your mouth got stained with chocolate. Dante took the chance to start his ‘cleaning’ process with the bowl. He would risk saying that was weirdly warming him from inside out. “Someday I’ll make you something called ‘little rain cakes’. My mom and grandma used to make them during cold, gray days.”
“Hmmm. They sound delicious already.” And now, his lips were smeared with chocolate as well. That image made you want to hold him in your arms and never let go. “Mom… Well, she used to make these simple cakes, you know…? It’d be cold and she’d call me and Verge to drink some hot chocolate and a slice of warm cake.” Dante stared at some point without really seeing it, having stopped eating for a while. You just listened quietly: he didn’t recall much of his childhood out loud, so, every time he did, you paid attention. It was his way of trusting you. “Dumb Vergil would always want to be all proper, but when he smelled chocolate, it was a fight to see who’d get to the kitchen first, you know?” Dante chuckled at the memory, making you smile in return. It was nice seeing him remembering something good for a change. “We’d take our cardboard swords and fight all the way to the kitchen. I could always hear mom laughing while we tried our best to be the first to arrive. That dumbass would always try to pretend he was a prince if he arrived first, though.”
“I can almost see him with his nose up in the air, behaving like royalty to impress Eva.” You snorted, making Dante turn his eyes back to you and laugh the way he always did. It was good to see his heart was gradually coming back.
“Royalty with his hair all ruffled and his knees scraped from fightin’ me! It was ridiculous!” He leaned closer to you as you laughed together, almost touching your forehead with his. “But mom was always nice. To me and to him. It didn’t matter who got there first, we’d always get a kiss on the top of our heads and a warm cup of hot chocolate, while she took the cake or cookies out of the oven.” Dante allowed a sad smile to rest on his lips, taking some more of the chocolate batter on his fingers. “It was nice.”
“We can make some hot choco too, if you want…” You left the suggestion in the air, noticing how he eyed you.
It had been years Dante didn’t drink hot chocolate – he’d risk saying it was since he was on his own after surviving the disaster at his old home. You had brought back into his life so much – foods, songs, laughs… Memories. And he had nothing but gratitude in his heart.
Sometimes, Dante wondered if he could ever love you too much.
“Ya know… I think the weather is pretty good for that.” He had a faint smile, his eyes seeming like they were about to rain once more. “But I’ve no idea where to start, babe.”
“We can figure it out together, love.” As you said that, you placed one of your hands on his face, pulling him for a gentle, soothing kiss.
And, as you parted, you started caressing his cheek.
“You smeared me with chocolate, right…?” Dante didn’t have his eyes opened yet, but he was doing his best not to laugh too much.
“It’s collateral damage from being in the kitchen with me.” You giggled back, still trying to wipe the chocolate from his face.
“I can take that kind of collateral damage, babe. No worries.” And, with that phrase, Dante did you the favor of smearing some chocolate on the tip of your nose, making you laugh immediately after being caught by surprise.
He never thought spending time on the kitchen with you, remembering the recipes from his childhood, could be so soothing. As you and Dante worked on the brownies and the hot chocolate, time seemed to flow as naturally as rain – along with your laughs and words.
He could talk to you forever. He could spend an eternity by your side – and something inside his heart made it seem that wouldn’t be enough.
The rest of the afternoon was spent with you both sitting on the big couch at the Devil May Cry, with you comfortably cradled by Dante’s arms, while eating the decadent brownies with strawberry jam and sipping some hot chocolate, as the rain melted on the windows and played its crystalline melody on the sidewalk outside.
The skies weren’t the only thing that melted that day – as you laid in his arms and talked about all random topics Dante seemed to be interested about, he noticed the magic of that sweet afternoon wasn’t in the food.
It was you. You had the power to warm up not only his heart, but his soul – his human soul.
From that day on, rainy days were more than welcome at the Devil May Cry.
Vergil
Vergil had a rough night.
It was something he hated to admit, but sincerity was one of his virtues – even more so towards himself.
It shouldn’t had been such a loathsome night; for all nights spent in your arms were a blessing higher than Vergil ever thought he deserved. But those dreams assaulted him again. Those terrible memories – of being controlled, of losing his own free will, of losing himself.
Vergil wasn’t afraid of too many things… But he was terrified of living it all once more.
It wasn’t a shock to find him in the middle of the night, with the moon high in the sky, looking horribly sleep deprived with the gentle rain seeming to want to soothe him with its sparkling on the glass of the windows.
Vergil sat by his usual study desk – arms crossed, eyes closed, seemingly meditating while his pale demeanor held deep purple hues that denounced how much he needed to sleep.
“Vergil…?” You carefully called him, knowing it wasn’t a good idea to touch him while having one of his night terrors. Previously, that same night, he woke up in horror and you were the only one that seemed to soothe him – apparently, those nightmares came back, and he opted to deprive himself of sleeping. “Love…? Are you ok…?”
“Hmmm.” He slightly opened his eyes, keeping them locked on your feet instead of fully opening them. “Yes.”
“So honest to yourself, yet so tough to open up… Even to me.” You chuckled lightly, making him fully open his tired eyes and set them in your form. Everything about you was always welcome in his life – soothing, like the rain outside. “Can I touch you…?”
Vergil just agreed with his head, nodding with almost no movement. You took one of your hands to lightly touch his face – first with your fingers, making him close his eyes once more, cherishing the feeling of you. It was grounding. It always managed to bring Vergil back and calm that storm that raged inside his chest and threatened to burst through his eyes. You ran your fingers through his silvery hair, provoking a sigh on the Dark Slayer’s lips.
“Those nightmares can’t let you go tonight…?” Your voice was tired, yes, but for him you’d stay awake as much as he needed you to.
“On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before…”* He sighed once more, barely raising his voice as your hands kept caressing his hair. It wasn’t a usual thing to behold, but Vergil was slowly learning to be vulnerable next to you.
“And then the bird said ‘nevermore’…?” You completed his quote, making Vergil open his eyes again, seemingly proud – you’d never know it, but deep in his heart, he was grateful to have found someone who understood his way of being and speaking.
After all, for many years, the only company Vergil had was books. They had shaped him more than he liked to admit out loud.
“One of the most dreadful things of being human…” He murmured, looking as tired as you’d expect from someone awake during a rainy night at almost 5 a.m. “Is being a slave to your own memories, that keep appearing uninvited while you sleep.”
“Indeed…” You agreed with your head, having a slight smile hidden in the corner of your lips right after. “But those aren’t the only memories that rise during dreams, right…? I dare to say the good ones are worth the risk of the dreadful ones.”
Vergil slowly nodded, thinking about what you had just said. His fingers found yours, taking your hand from his hair and caressing your silky skin while his mind flew away, deep in thought.
You gave him the time he needed. The rain outside created a beautiful symphony on the glass and the pavement, sometimes accompanied by deep thunder – too far away to sound threatening. You just waited until Vergil seemed to emerge from his thoughts: if he managed to fall asleep like that, it wouldn’t be the first time and you’d never complain about it.
“Dante told me a secret about you one of these days, love.” That phrase from your mouth, though, made Vergil immediately look at you with sharp eyes: it didn’t look like he would fall asleep soon, so you could help him as much as your powers allowed. “Why don’t we go to the kitchen first?”
Raising one of his eyebrows, Vergil finally stood up and silently followed you as you kept holding his hand and guided him to where you wanted.
You were the only being in all worlds who could make the Dark Slayer follow your footsteps without questioning.
Vergil carefully watched as you moved around the kitchen, sitting by the table you ordered him to stay while you did all the work. It didn’t down on him what you were doing, until he was suddenly taken by a cloud of the sweet smell of chocolate while you poured it on the milk warming up on the stove.
He didn’t know how to react. That smell immediately took him back to the halls of his home, while he fought Dante to see who would get to the kitchen first while Eva prepared some warm, hot chocolate to keep them cozy during cold rainy days. She stirred the chocolate just like you did, standing peacefully by the oven with a calm smile on her lips while he and Dante crossed chaos to be there first.
It seemed foolish how he would always try to behave like a prince as soon as he set foot in the kitchen, but Vergil always wanted to look his best to his parents. He wanted to impress them – he wanted them to be sure he was worthy to carry his father’s name and his mother’s love. Vergil adored how Eva smiled at him whenever he thanked her so politely for the chocolate, winning a kiss on the top of his head.
And even if Dante didn’t act the same, he’d win a smile and a kiss as well. Vergil and Dante would always exchange looks as she was done serving them, smiling at each other excitedly – even if they had fought all the way to the kitchen, they were still brothers and still loved one another.
Vergil wished he was assaulted every night with those memories instead.
“Hot chocolate…?” He murmured, trying to keep his voice from trembling. It had been such a long time he didn’t allow himself that little piece of happiness, it seemed like it was a memory from another life. One he didn’t spend alone, doing his best to gain power and survive, having to fend for himself and falling deeper and deeper into mayhem.
It seemed like a memory from Heaven.
“Dante told me you have a soft spot for chocolate.” You looked back at him; that same smile his mother kept on her lips calmly reflecting on yours. You appeared to ignore how glossy his silvery eyes looked – and Vergil was thankful for that. “Who would’ve known the Dark Slayer has such a sweet taste…?”
As you winked, Vergil allowed himself to slightly smile back while you turned your attention back to the hot drink. It would be done soon, and you didn’t want to burn it.
“Indeed my tastes are sweet, for loving you as much as I do.”
That quiet phrase, murmured on a velvety, silent tone by Vergil’s lips, took you quite by surprise. He wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve – and declarations of love like that weren’t usual. Even if Vergil was able to say the most beautiful things the ears of men had listened, he usually kept to his heart and would only allow you to know it by writing the words on paper – avoiding saying them.
Almost like a spell that would wrap around both of you, binding you forever when said out loud.
Vergil would always be thankful by the way you reacted to his words, though – keeping with what you were doing, as if he said nothing much. But he could see, in the way your eyes glistened, and your lips carried a proud smile, how much it affected you.
Your emotions weren’t loud and overwhelming for him to handle – they were as gentle as the rain that melted outside.
“I wonder what my tastes are then, for loving you like I do.” You finally quipped back, taking the pan out of the stove, and offering Vergil one of your beloved, blue flower themed mugs – as well as taking one for yourself. “Probably strong albeit sweet, like dark chocolate.”
It was his turn not to answer you but allow a knowing smile to color his lips. Vergil never knew well how to react when you complimented or offered gentle feelings for him instead of hatred – he wasn’t used too kindness and softness. He had longed for it, yes, even quietly suffered for some gentleness. But, around you, it was the first time in long, long years he was finally experiencing it.
You sat across the table, taking your mug between your hands, using it to warm you up on that chilly night. Vergil took his blue flower mug with some uncertainty, wondering how that chocolate would taste like after so many years.
The sweet and warm taste took his mouth, but the wave that formed inside of him came from his heart – a wave of feelings Vergil thought were long gone; memories from the days he would play with Dante in the garden of their home, from Eva reading him his favorite poetry books to help him fall asleep, from Sparda spinning him in the air as he was caught during his training, from all of them spending a cozy, rainy night by the fireplace enjoying hot chocolate.
Vergil thought it was all dead – that he had killed it to survive. Those memories hurt; made his heart bleed during harsh endless nights while he wondered alone as a child trying to find a safer place to sleep at least a little bit and warm up his bones. He thought he had murdered those memories in cold blood, as he did with many things, so he could survive.
But there they were – and, across the table, right in front of him, there you were; with a knowing smile on your lips while his eyes rained as much as the skies outside.
You didn’t say a word about his overflow of feelings – and he would always be thankful for that. Holding your hand across the table, Vergil caressed and played with your fingers, while you both silently enjoyed the hot chocolate during that rainy night.
As Aurora with its rosy fingers colored the sky and the sun started to rise in its golden chariot, you and Vergil were back on the bed – peacefully listening to the raindrops outside, while he slept safe and sound in your arms, with your hands caressing his silver hair.
You were the only one able to soothe the storm that raged inside his soul – and Vergil would be thankful for that, forevermore.
Summary: The Abyss opening is a rare occurrence. In his youth, Vergil wanted to harness its power, but never thought he would meet his greatest adversary along the way. Years later, the Abyss is once again open and that might call for some rather unlikely alliances.
Age restriction: 18+ - there’s a lot of blood, violence, cursing and all those things people want to forbid younger audiences of seeing. Also, cosmic horror is a thing here. Procceed with caution
Author’s notes: A lot more on the crew and Nero this time... Plus, we got a certain red devil coming back from Hell ;)
Not gonna lie, I'm enjoying writing reader's relationship with the kid, they deserve all the loves hahaha
Also, a blue devil to reappear in the next chapter 👀
Chapter 10
“Guess talkin’ ‘bout you devil hunters can summon you right away, huh?” Nico’s voice was laced with a fun laugh, the crew already together and just waiting for you to arrive: Lady and Trish sat by Dante’s big wooden desk while Nico lounged on the big sofa and Nero paced around, as always.
It was a quiet afternoon around the shop – and it had been such a long time you hadn’t set foot there. Seeing everyone at the Devil May Cry was enough to make your heart smile, but… You couldn’t help an empty spot taking space as soon as your eyes found Dante’s chair, empty.
The golden glow of the afternoon made it look like he was a distant memory: you expected him to come out of the bathroom, shirtless, shaking his wet hair and smiling at you anytime, but it wouldn’t happen. It seemed that, without him, the Devil May Cry was awfully quiet, like a house that lost its heart – and was now ready for new people to move in, giving it a new spirit.
It wasn’t necessarily bad, just empty.
“Hey, it’s quite a long ride from my city.” You turned your eyes to Nico, closing the door behind you. “I’m here on time.”
The gunsmith checked the clock on the wall – only to find it frozen in time, when it ran out of batteries. Still, you were there on time: it wasn’t your fault everyone arrived early.
“Still no news…?” You pointed at the empty chair. It seemed like no one would sit on it, even if Dante never came back. It was his place, after all, and taking it over almost felt like… Disrespect, if that made any sense.
“Nothing.” Trish’s answer was as hard to read as always – you knew she had a heart, she just wasn’t so keen on showing it. “But the last Qliphoth parts collapsed some time ago. They did do their job.”
“Probably climbing out of that awful place by now. We don’t know how deep the roots went.” Lady crossed her arms, flashing a fiery look towards you. “You could’ve said goodbye if you were there with us in Red Grave.”
“I’m very aware of that, Lady, thank you very much.” You turned towards the woman with a forced smile on your lips, making her laugh in response. “The Abyss is known to have the worst timing when it comes to my life.”
“Isn’t it weird, though…?” As Nico spoke, all eyes turned to her. “I mean, that thing openin’ up the same day we saved your asses from Urizen?”
Trish and Lady only limited themselves to glare at Nico, clearly not liking her choice of words. And that made you smile.
“Yeah. It was one hell of a coincidence, but, ya know…” Nero shrugged, resting his hands on his hips right after and finally stopping the pacing. “We’ve seen weirder.”
“That, we have.” You slowly agreed with your head, sighing right after. “As much as I wished to be there with you guys, to have seen Dante and to have met his brother, there’s nothing I can do about it now. Just wait for that dumbass to return.”
“You… Don’t wish you had met Dante’s twin. Trust me on that one.” Lady’s words were categorical, as the woman sighed and shook her head, almost as if to shake away a bad memory along with it.
“But I don’t think you called me here just to scold me for passing that job, right…?” You raised one of your eyebrows, crossing your arms.
The empty chair didn’t bother only your heart, it bothered everyone’s. It was a silent wish, but you would bet your most prized belongings that the whole crew wanted the chair to be occupied again, by the man that brought all of you together.
Still, you didn’t believe they would all be petty enough to call you that day after almost two years just to kick you where your regret hurt the most.
“We got a call from Morrisson. One of his contacts at a nearby city, Mercy Springs, has been reporting some strange happenings and creatures, so he thought it was right up our alley.” Lady pointed at Trish, seeing they had been running the Devil May Cry ever since Dante got locked down in Hell. “At first, yeah, it sounded like demonic stuff. So, Morrisson’s contact brought us part of a carcass of one of the dead things; you know, so we could take a look and know what we’re dealing with… And… Well…”
Lady’s words faded, same way as her eyes left yours with an unsure look.
That was definitely out of character.
“Well…?” You asked back with certainty, arms still crossed, but pushing with your own gaze. Lady looked at Trish, who just threw the carcass on Dante’s desk, as if it weighed nothing.
You couldn’t refrain from furrowing your brows as you stared at that thing on the table. It occupied almost its entire surface, and it was only a broken part of a whole: and part was the best description you had for it.
It looked like an amalgamation of organic matter and porcelain, rotten and decayed, forming part of a body that could be dismantled at will. You would say the insides would be hollow, if there weren’t vein markings and dried, pitch-black blood in shapes that could’ve been internal organs – now missing, probably with the rest of the dead creature, considering it was only a carcass.
“You know what this is, right?” Trish’s cold lavender blue eyes observed you intently, as you only looked back into them and slowly confirmed with your head, turning your gaze back to the creature on the desk.
You were glad it was dead.
“A doll part.” You kept your voice low, but the entire crew could hear you speaking.
“Ei! Translation to the non-versed in demonic codexes and such?” Nico pointed at her and Nero, making him look a little annoyed at her. “C’mon. You haven’t even read that huge ass book yet!”
“I’m…! Well, I’m busy, killin’ demons all the time!” Nero huffed back at her. You had lent him your copy of the Codex Daemonica for over a year now – and he hadn’t even left the first twenty pages. “When I’ve time to chill, I go over the book! But I’m not gonna memorize it, c’mon…! Bet no one here knows it! Other than y/n, of course, but they practically live in a library!”
“Dante had it memorized.” Trish’s comment was enough to turn all surprised eyes to her – except yours. You just had a knowing smile in your eyes. “Hey, don’t ask me. He said it was a thing from his father, Sparda.”
“Made them repeat during dinner what they had memorized through the day.” You added – and, as Trish only nodded in agreement, the others just stared back in even more awe; not knowing if you two were serious or joking around.
You and Trish, though, weren’t the types to make that kind of joke.
“Ok. Forget ‘bout it.” Nero quickly shook his head, seeing that would completely derail the reason why you were all there. “You said it’s a doll part. I fought some scarecrow lookin’ demons in Fortuna, is it somethin’ like that?”
“I can see them evolving from this one, yeah…” You mused, looking back at the carcass on the table. “But they are another thing entirely.”
“This is something we call Changeling Dolls in Hell.” Trish leaned on Dante’s desk, crossing her arms and having a sort of professorial look – in her own nonchalant way. “Similar to the Puppets controlled by a Hell Puppeteer; some of them made of the same parts.”
“They can take themselves apart and reassemble as they see fit.” You continued her line of thought, watching as Lady wrinkled her nose: she was always the first one to get strong reactions of complete disgust towards demons. And you always appreciated that. “It takes a while to kill them. There’s little to no resources on how to exactly do it, but it’s believed you have to destroy its heart.”
“Tearing it out of their chest should do the trick. If you can reach it, that is.” Trish shrugged, almost as if talking about something so unimportant. Now it was Nico and Nero’s turn to wrinkle their noses in disgust, just like Lady. “No one truly knows, because Changeling Dolls, just like Hell Puppeteers, are extinct; and haven’t been seen in more than five hundred years. I never met one. This…” And she pointed at the carcass on the desk. “Is a first.”
“Ooooh, that can’t be good…” Nico shook her head, having a gloomy tone in her voice. “What gives…?”
“That’s exactly why we called you.” Lady pointed at you, while letting out a heavy sigh. “When Trish said this wasn’t supposed to exist, I thought ‘well, there’s only one expert in the crew on things that shouldn’t exist’.”
“Hmmm…” You once again turned your attention to the carcass – it was eerily familiar, reminding you of the very first time the Abyss made you see things you didn’t want to see. “I fought Puppeteers, twice. They came out of the Abyss, but only in two of the few occasions it opened.”
“Wait, what…?” Nero immediately cut you off, shaking his head. “You fought an extinct demon…? And won?!”
“Yep.” You shrugged as if it wasn’t that big of a deal, seeing the admiration even in Trish’s lavender eyes. You never told them about the demon in the blue coat, and you decided to keep it that way as your life went by. They probably wouldn’t understand joining forces, even if temporarily, with such a dangerous creature – and having them as an archenemy you still hadn’t been able to kill. Nero would certainly barge in and fight the demon for you to kill him once and for all, since you weren’t powerful enough to best him, but that kill was yours. “On one occasion, it was the first time I saw something coming out of the Abyss, and realized it was a two way street. Back in my city, we had some doubts if all the demons coming out were only from Hell or from the Abyss as well, but that day I was certain. And it was something supposedly extinct.”
“Do you know more ‘bout it? What’s in the Abyss?” Nero had his hands on his waist, concerned eyes fixated on you – but you could only sigh in response.
“That’s what I’m still trying to figure out.” You shook your head, crossing your arms once again, while furrowing your brows – not in concern, but in utter annoyance. “I don’t know if it is a prison, a place of exile, a deeper layer of Hell, or something else entirely. I know how it came to be, but not its purpose. It started as a layer of Hell itself, ruled by the Kings just like many others, but something shifted through the years. You cannot easily access the Abyss through Hell – and to this day, I still don’t know if there’s a pattern to the cracks opening here in the human world, nor how they show up.”
“Well, whatever it may be, we might find some answers with this job.” Lady walked towards you – hands on her hips, ready to gear up and go. “If extinct demons are showing up, it can only be an Abyss thing then. It may not have opened yet, but some of its things are slipping through. We can’t pass this one up.”
“And we won’t.” You answered her with a tinge of a smile in your lips, but a knowing look in your eyes - having Lady open up an excited smile in return.
You, Lady and Trish didn’t need anything else to know it was time to grab your weapons and hit the road, immediately heading towards your gear to set it up. Nico and Nero just looked at each other, always a little surprised with how fast you three decided it was time to go to work.
“You know, you people are too willin’ to go kill stuff.” Nico pointed out, having Nero stare at her. “Nothin’ against it! Just sayin’! You’re doin’ one hell of a good job protectin’ the people!”
“Aren’t we…?” Nero let out a long sigh, shaking his head. “Gotta call Kyrie, say I probably won’t be comin’ home for dinner.”
“You can use the phone!” And Lady almost sang the answer, strapping Kalina Ann to her back.
One of the biggest changes at the Devil May Cry with the ladies in charge, was that the bills were always paid on time.
*
“And heeeere we are…!” The van stopped abruptly, forcing all of you to hold onto something while Nico smiled, her cigarette between her teeth. “This is the place your contact told you to meet ‘em, right ladies?”
“Police station, right next to the City Hall.” Lady pointed at a smaller building, only a few feet away from the van. “They should have more…”
Before she could finish speaking, though, the floor rumbled under your feet – and it wasn’t Nico’s bad driving. It came from inside the earth, causing people walking on the street to lose their balance and the buildings threaten to lose their foundations – but somehow still standing in place. Nero, who had just gotten up to leave the van, immediately held you with one of his arms, while keeping you both in balance by holding onto his seat with his free hand.
“You ok?”
“Yeah, thanks Nero.” You nodded, looking around and finding everyone alright – only for the earth to shake again, with Nero tightening his grip around you so both of you wouldn’t fall. Even Trish, who had a supernaturally good balance, had to hold onto something. “The Abyss is already opening. We gotta go.”
Before any of them could say anything, you got back on your feet and opened the van’s door, jumping out and quickly checking on your gear as the rest of the crew followed.
“You go meet Morrisson’s contact and start evacuating the city as fast as you can.” You had your silver sword strapped to your back, as always, ready to fight. And now, a silver pistol Dante gave you after your first job together at the Devil’s Den, saying you seriously lacked some firepower – even if you already had some in your arsenal… His was better. “This place is going to become a hellhole in a matter of minutes.”
“But hey, question: how’re demons gonna get here? The Abyss opens Hell too?” Nico leaned on the open window of the van, cigarette now between her fingers.
“I can’t tell you with certainty, Nico.” You answered with a sigh, looking away in the distance, almost as if you had sensed something. And, in a way, you did... Something you hadn’t felt in a while. “But they are connected, yes. What the Abyss does, though, is thinning the veil between the human world and Hell, making it easier for demons to come through – they don’t need an open gate to cross over…” You sighed, finally looking back at the gunsmith virtuosa. “And that’s how shit hits the fan.”
“And where will you go, then?” Trish had her guns ready, but looked the most casual of all hunters: with her lightning skills, she was already a walking weapon herself. “You mentioned we should start evacuating the city.”
“I’ll go to the Abyss. If my research is correct, I’ve always reached it too late.” Now you had certainty in your eyes – the same you learned from that blue coated devil; the same you learned to harbor whenever dealing with situations like the one you barely survived on your own city. “The earlier I get there, the earlier I can understand how and why it opens. And maybe I can pick up a pattern after so many years…”
“And close it for good.” Lady had that same fire in her eyes, understanding where all your determination came from. “Alright. We’ll start the evacuation, I don’t think it’ll be…”
And again, the woman was interrupted; you all heard a cacophony of shrieks down the street – followed by screams. As you turned to see what was going on, a creature resembling a dark, bloody wolf ran towards you while bearing its teeth, ready to tear you into pieces.
And it exploded in the middle of its pounce with a few silver bullets from the Blue Rose – Nero having shot it dead before it could even think of reaching you.
“You were sayin’…?” He shook his head, not even looking at Lady: all of you had your attention on the demons that were melting through walls of buildings and pavement on the streets, precisely as if, like you said, what separated your worlds was now thin and merging together. “Are you sure you can go by yourself? I mean, the ladies are pretty strong and can deal with it on their own…”
“I’m sure, Nero. They are strong, but the people on the city will need you. If I didn’t have any of you here, I’d be helping evacuation rather than going to the Abyss.” You turned to him as Lady and Trish already ran towards the demons, blowing them up with bullets, rockets and lighting; quickly making their way to the police station. “This is the first time I have the opportunity to go there as soon as I can because you’re here. And I know you’re not going to fuck everything up.” With that, Nero immediately turned his gaze away from you – as he always did when you said something flattering and he didn’t know how to react. “You got the same blood as Dante. And, as strong as the ladies are, I have faith in that. In your heart. You can beat whatever thing that comes out from Hell – so I’m free to do my job.”
“Well… Ok.” Nero finally looked back at you, scratching the back of his neck as he always did when he didn’t know what to do with himself. “Just… Stay safe, ok? If ya need any help…”
“What? I’ll scream around so you’ll know where to find me?” You joked around, making him immediately laugh back and lose the nervousness on his shoulders. “Are those devil ears that good? How do you sleep?”
“Very well, thank you very much.” With his bantering switch turned on, Nero now carried the confidence he always did when at work. “I’ll find ya if I need to! Now let’s go; don’t wanna be the reason why you miss your timin’!”
“Thank you, kid!” And, with a wink, you started running in the opposite direction than Nero.
After all, you could still feel it. And your instinct was never wrong about that.
*
If he had to be honest, Nero never sat down to actually talk to you about what happened the day your city was destroyed by the Abyss. From what Dante had quickly told him, Nero always concluded it was something similar to what happened in Fortuna – so there wasn’t that much to talk about.
He also didn’t want anyone trying to get all therapist-like with him, trying to “fix the trauma” from what happened in his past. Nero did trust you to an extent, but, inevitably, everyone older than him treated him like a child that needed some guidance. And that made his blood boil.
He knew he was assuming too much, yes, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to try, even more after all the conversations you had and you were so… Trusting. Accepting. Treating him like an actual adult, telling him you had faith in his judgment and his strength. Nero never really had that, aside from Kyrie of course, but with you… It was different. Hearing it from you, someone used to hunt with Dante, as experienced as him and the ladies, it hit… Differently.
And that day, seeing what Mercy Springs had become with the opening of the Abyss… Well, everything was hitting a lot differently.
They managed to quickly reach the ladies’ contact in town, and City Hall immediately announced the evacuation. Police officers and military hit the streets to help save as many people as possible, but everything was pure chaos – almost exactly like when the demons invaded Fortuna and people ran around aimlessly, trying to save themselves.
But this time, the floor was shaking every few minutes, and then… Those creatures. The ones Lady and Trish showed only the shell of a carcass. They looked strange… And they smelled strange.
“Phew! Someone blew up the sewers or somethin’…?” But Nero’s smart quip immediately got lost in his tongue as soon as he saw the owner of the stench.
Lady and Nico probably couldn’t feel it, but he was sure Trish could. It wasn’t like the smell of sulfur and rot from the demons in Hell, this one carried those scents along with blood and something… Old. As if it was rotting inside a place far away from the sun, the stars and everything else that could be considered good.
Nero immediately furrowed his brows. Indeed, that thing looked like a doll: all its parts were glossy white, crackled, chipped as porcelain and looking like it could be easily torn apart. But it also had something of organic: dark veins ran from its many arms, to the legs, through the torso and the faces… Blank, expressionless faces with open mouths glowing in deep red – the same color of its fleshy insides; every time it took a step, it looked like it was going to fall apart, only to contort its joints and reveal it wasn’t hollow like a real doll; it was something else.
“Damn, you’re an ugly son of a bitch…” Nero couldn’t stop himself from wrinkling his nose and looking that thing from head to toe. “And a stinky one, too.”
“Yeah… No matter how far down you go in Hell…” Trish casually stopped by Nero, resting Ombra on her shoulder, but keeping her sharp lavender blue eyes on that thing. “You can’t smell that bad. And that old, for that matter.”
“Hmmm, noticed that too… Was kinda hopin’ it was just my lil’ sensitive human nose.” Nero snickered back, making her let out a genuine laugh. Trish would never tell him that, but she appreciated how much of Dante’s humor Nero seemed to naturally have in him. It made the Devil May Cry feel less empty. “Well, not gonna let that fugly thing walk ‘round for too long. Time to go back where you belong, wherever that is!”
With that, Nero revved Red Queen up, quickly charging in. Jumping right into the creature, he was fast and angry, cutting it to pieces before it could even understand what happened. As he finally gave his sword a break, the hellish doll broke apart, dismantling like it was never really alive in the first place.
“Eww, that’s gross…” And Nero couldn’t help but take a few steps back as he saw the fleshy insides of the creature, with its thick, almost black blood pooling near his feet. The flesh pulsated along with its organs, quite different from an empty doll. “So… That’s it…?”
“Kinda anti-climatic for an extinct demon…” Lady sighed with disdain, only now managing to approach Nero and Trish – having almost blown up the previous block. “I expected a bit more.”
“Well…” Trish furrowed her brows, readying Luce and Ombra in her hands as the dismembered parts of the doll started trembling on the floor. “Careful what you wish for, dear.”
The hunters took a few steps back as one of the broken arms started crawling towards another. Soon, they gripped at each other, using themselves to grab others and quickly start piecing its broken body together – although in a different appearance than the previous one. Now, it used a few of the arms as legs, crawling through the floor like a spider made of limbs and expressionless heads.
“I… Agree with you on this one, Nero. This bitch is ugly.” Lady got Kalina Ann ready, steadily anchoring herself on the floor, lightly bending her knees. Nero and Trish knew it was her rocket shooting stance, safely taking a few steps back behind the woman – it was better than to be in her line of destruction. “Time to say goodbye for good!”
If there was one thing they could always be certain with Lady, was that she never missed a shot. Dante was good with his guns, but she specialized only in that kind of combat – and Kalina Ann was her pride and joy. The rocket hit the Changeling Doll, breaking it again into hundreds of pieces, making its arms explode around the air, and its heads roll on the floor.
Laying lifeless in the chaos, just like it happened before with Nero.
“You think it worked this time?” He asked, a little bit unsure, watching those porcelain-like pieces resting as if they always been lifeless.
“I hope so.”
But as Lady barely finished her words, the arms started crawling again. This time, running faster, like quick arachnids jumping in water – ready to catch their prey, now that it knew what it was going against. The hunters jumped back, readying their weapons as the doll put itself together one more time – now, in an even more uncanny form than before.
“Maybe it needs, you know…” Lady looked over to Trish, who immediately understood the glare.
Nero had no idea where the woman found a pair of sunglasses, but in the blink of an eye, Trish had them over her lilac blue eyes, hands already sparkling with yellow lightning.
“Takes a demon to kill a demon.” As she spoke those words, the woman smiled – and one could barely notice a pair of fangs along her teeth. “Time to get this party started. You’re coming as well, Nero?”
“Huh?” He furrowed his brows for a second; a quick one before understanding what Trish meant. Nero was sure her invitation had to do with you – he would easily bet Red Queen that you were the one who told the ladies to put a little faith in him. And he wouldn’t let that chance go. “Thought you’d never ask!”
With a burst of energy, human Nero was no more – giving room to his dark red and teal blue scaled skin, long white hair, golden yellow eyes and ghostly, blue shimmering wings resting on his shoulders. The horns on his head resembled white feathers, and Lady could swear that wasn’t the only thing that made him look taller.
The ladies had seen Dante trigger close to them before, but never Nero. After all those years, they could see what you had told them once: he was not a kid anymore and he had all the power to be a legendary devil hunter just like his uncle – you all just needed to give him some space to do so.
“Now…” His distorted voice echoed from his chest – and both Trish and Lady couldn’t deny how much they missed hearing that voice tone from Dante. Having Nero around was strangely… Comforting. “Let’s get this party started, ladies!”
“I’ll give you cover!”
As soon as Lady screamed, Trish and Nero ran into offensive, while she jumped back to place strategic shots with her guns, having to leave Kalina Ann out of the fight for a while. Nero had Red Queen in his hands, charging in with a powerful blow, as Trish powered the attack with a combination of punches from her lightning charged hands.
For a moment, it felt exactly like it did when they used to hunt together, Trish, Lady and Dante. They didn’t do it all the time, and only on big jobs – which usually wouldn’t pay well for Dante and Trish, but they were some of the most enjoyable ones. Trish had the ruthlessness of a demon, Lady had the passion of a human, and Dante knew how to balance both. It looked fun because it usually was fun – it was very rare, for any of them, to be scared and to actually lose, or be in serious danger.
Nero… He had a different heart, but still so similar. Not as hurt as Dante’s, but just as bright – and he fought with the same fire. Always trying to prove himself worthy, he wouldn’t back down… And he had the same big mouth as his uncle.
“Sorry…” Nero stopped a powerful attack that made Lady worry for a slight second, as Trish immediately charged for a decisive kick that would make that thing fly in the air at least a couple meters up – but she didn’t need to, with Red Queen perforating one of the creature’s red mouths. “You’re no match for me. And pretty pathetic too.”
With an edge of hatred and disgust in his words, Nero plunged his sword deeper into the creature’s mouth, making that head crack and burst into little pieces of porcelain-like flesh.
Lady had to roll her eyes. He had a lot of his father’s arrogance too.
“Hey!” Trish yelled as the demon stumbled back in its many hands and legs, shrieking with the loss of one of its heads. “The heart! I think I can see it!”
Lady looked right at where Trish was pointing: previously a part of the creature’s torso, it was now lodged on one of its sides, near the arms that served as legs and feet. Underneath a small crack, her multicolored eyes found a red glimmer – faint, but if its mouths were glowing, certainly another glowing piece on the inside could only mean one of its organs; and, maybe, the heart.
Lady didn’t think twice: preparing her guns, she made it rain bullets over the demon. It immediately turned its expressionless heads towards her, frantically running like a spider on its arms to catch her. The bullets only chipped its porcelain skin and they could see a little more of the glow, but it wasn’t enough to show them if it really was the demon’s heart.
“Hey! I was the one who broke one of your ugly heads!” Nero could feel his heart beating faster in his chest as the creature approached Lady so quickly, they could barely react in time.
Even if she was an experienced devil hunter, he would never let that thing hurt her or Trish with him around – he’d rather fistfight the Changeling Doll on his own than let the ladies get hurt. With that thought, he fired a couple of charged shots on that thing, blowing away a few of its arms, making it lose its balance and turn its many heads towards him.
“C’mon…!” Nero opened his arms, having a cocky smile on his lips, showing the rows of sharp teeth from his demonic form. “I’m feelin’ a little ignored!”
As the demon pounced in his direction, Lady and Trish couldn’t help but exchange a very quick look.
“Guess it runs in their blood…” Lady murmured, shaking her head, seeing Trish faintly laugh in the distance – with her demonic hearing, the devil-woman definitely heard her comment… And most certainly agreed.
It was like fighting side by side with Dante again, after all that time.
“’K, you piece of shit! Time to go! Show’s over!” Nero growled while taking the Red Queen out again, attacking the place previously shot by Lady with a revved up stinger.
The demon became even more aggressive, now that they could see more of the red glow Trish pointed at before. The devil-woman charged in with a few lightning attacks, making the porcelain skin crack even further – the crew slowly chipping away at the Changeling Doll’s defenses.
Sensing it was losing the fight, the creature started reassembling itself into an even more threatening form – still fighting, but using some free arms to put some pieces here, other legs there, heads upper and further away from Nero’s sword; almost taking the form of a mutated scorpion without a tail and a very long neck. It tried to take the piece protecting the red glow to a more defensive place, but with the hunter’s relentless attacks, it could only drive it upwards – right underneath the heads.
“Gotta say…” Nero slid backwards on his feet after having one of his attacks blocked; a faint glow wrapping around him only to have his human appearance back – along with the voice the ladies had grown used to since meeting him in Fortuna. “That thing doesn’t give up.”
“C’mon. We’re almost there.” Lady had that immovable fire in her eyes, now readying Kalina Ann one more time. Trish charged her yellow lightning around her hands once more, while Nero cracked his neck, ready for round two – the crew looking up to the towering Changeling Doll, wondering how they would get it on the floor so they could reach the part protecting what they concluded it could only be its heart.
Before being able to attack again, though, they heard the distant sound of engines coming from behind. Approaching quickly and savagely, with a rage they hadn’t heard in years.
“What…?”
Nero barely had time to mumble the beginning of his sentence. The motorcycle sound only got louder, and he could only think of you – after all, you did get to the Devil May Cry in your motorcycle, even if you rode in the van with everyone else for that job; Nico was still able to tie your bike on the back of her vehicle, if you needed it in an emergency.
“I feel the need…!” And, for a second, the crew couldn’t believe the voice their ears were picking up. “For speed!”
Cavaliere roared behind them and above their heads, speeding like lightning and plunging right into the Changeling Doll. Before it did, though, the man riding it jumped from its seat, shooting the creature with his dual guns while in the air and falling in his two feet, right between the crew and the ancient demon.
The motorcycle broke a few of the creature’s parts with the impact, making it stumble down and lose a little of its height – the place where the heart should be now a little more shattered, glowing even more.
“Damn, you’re an ugly son of a bitch. Someone ever told you that?” Dante rested Ivory on one of his shoulders, having a cocky smile on his lips – and ignoring the fact he was covered in demon blood.
Lady and Trish quickly exchanged looks again.
Of course. After so long… The bantering probably ran in their blood, indeed, along with the vocabulary.
“You heard the kid! Show’s over!”
His last word came out distorted, as Dante burst in a volcano of flames that made them all blink for a while – only to find him up in the air with the aid of his large, red glowing wings, flying right towards the creature’s heart.
Dante didn’t have to put much effort: with a quick, accurate move, he shattered the Changeling Doll’s porcelain plate in pieces, reaching for its beating, glowing red heart.
“Bullseye!” Having it in his hand, Dante pulled it out, making the creature let out a cacophony of shrieks through its many mouths, tumbling around in its arms.
Dante didn’t think twice: forcing his claws shut, the beating heart burst in his hand, having the almost tar black blood run down his arms. The Changeling Doll shrieked profusely, alternating into guttural growls, trying to reach out to Dante and take him down with it – as he slowly lowered to the floor.
Once his feet hit the pavement, a faint red glow brought Dante’s human appearance back, along with the Changeling Doll hitting the floor after its last breath – its mouths now completely black, blood pooling on the floor, limbs completely broken and motionless. Finally defeated.
Dante turned around to see the faces of the people he left behind years prior – and couldn’t help but smile upon seeing they hadn’t changed a bit.
“Took your time.” Trish rested her free hand on her waist, taking off her sunglasses; a small smile gracing the corner of her devilish lips. Dante couldn’t hold back a laugh.
“C’mon, babe, gimme a break. Weedin’ down the devil tree was a lot of work.” He crossed his arms, smile now wide on his lips. “And keepin’ an eye on Vergil.”
“You stink of demon blood, you know.” Lady pointed at him with her gun, and Dante immediately pretended to check how he was smelling. She had to laugh a little bit, remembering their fights at the Temen-ni-gru.
She had to appreciate how much he remained himself through the years.
“Part of the job, Lady. It’s been a while, cut me some slack.” He had a knowing look in his eyes, remembering the very same thing she did – which made Lady look away, rolling her eyes, trying to hold back the smile that insisted on spreading through her lips. He then turned his sky-blue eyes to his nephew, who just stared at him with an expression Dante couldn’t really read what it meant. “And you? Not a single word? Not a ‘thought you were dead and gone already, old man’…?”
As Dante jokingly spoke, Nero let go of Red Queen, having the sword hit the pavement with a loud clang. And, to shut his uncle up, Nero angrily walked towards him – making Dante sure he was about to take another beating from the kid.
It was almost like a ritual for them at that point. And he wouldn’t blame him.
The red devil was caught by surprise, though, when Nero locked his arms around him in a tight hug, hiding his face on Dante’s neck. The man didn’t know what to do with his own arms for a while – after all, he was covered in blood and reeking of Hell – only to soften up into it as he felt Nero pulling him even closer.
“Thought I’d never see your dumb face again…” Nero’s voice was muffled from keeping his face hidden in his uncle’s red coat – and Dante was sure he was hiding something more. “I missed you, jackass.”
“I…” Dante let out a deep breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in. With his shoulders softening up, he finally wrapped his arms around his nephew, which made Nero hold him even tighter – almost as if he was afraid Dante would disappear again. Trish and Lady watched quietly, smiling as they rested on a few building debris nearby. “Missed you too, kid.”
Dante tightened his arms around Nero, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to hide his face like his nephew was doing.
After all, sometimes even a devil may cry when meeting the family they thought they had lost for so long.
IM ABOUT TO READ EVERY SI GLE ONE OF UR DMC FICS HOLY GOLD
WELCOME TO THE BIBLIOTHÈQUE, MY DEAR!!!!
HAHAHA I really do feel flattered with your words and motivation™ and genuinely hope you enjoy your stay!! 🖤
I'm slowly coming back from a sort of hiatus period without posting much, so we're bound to have some new stuff coming the next few weeks!
I'm also slowly working on finishing two longfics I have that are having some eyes on them again, Nemesis (a Vergil x Reader one) and Survivor's Blood (a Leon x Reader one). I'm focusing a little more on Nemesis, but I've already had some people reading Survivor's Blood again, so I'm trying to fit everything in my update schedule ^^
Glad to have you here and I sincerely hope you enjoy your reading!! 🖤🖤
(and thanks for screaming in my asks, I really do appreciate it! hahaha)
Dante & Vergil caring for their s/o pretending to be fine on a low-energy/emotionally exhausted day - Vergil Chapter
Pairings: Vergil x Reader
Summary: You could always expertly pretend everything was alright - you couldn’t, however, run for too long from the eyes of your lover. Even if you didn’t want to worry him, you were the easiest book for him to read.
Restrictions: Things are superficially mentioned and implied. Your job involves children and teens being kidnapped, and the main culprits this time… Are humans - hence your emptiness and exhaustion. There’s no more detail other than that, but I do think a warning is always nice if you want to avoid it.
Author’s Notes: 8.5k words, approximately. In my defense... It's the blue devil, and he wakes the philosopher poet inside of me. I did go over themes like forgiveness and redemption, grounding and meditation, anxiety and numbness, and the beauty of being loved so much you are seen and known. Didn't expect any of that, but it happened over the days hahaha and it has a lot of my own thoughts I have been having over those things.
And a whole Pablo Neruda poem at the end, just because :)
Vergil
The only thing that could denounce Vergil was eagerly waiting for something was the beat of his heart inside his chest.
Anyone who passed by would think his stillness mirrored his feelings: calm, collected, patiently waiting while reading another one of his many old books. Legs crossed, holding the tome with one hand, while his head gently leaned on the other one. Hours passed by, days and nights, cups of teas and quiet showers.
Only his heart knew how anxious it was, expecting you to come home.
Lady had called one day, asking for your help with something that could or could not be a job. She had uncertainty in her multicolored eyes – something quite unusual in Vergil’s gaze, since he remembered the fire and hatred on them back when meeting her for the first time at the Temen-ni-gru.
“An investigation…?” His question sounded like a judgment, but you knew from his inflection that it was more curiosity than anything else.
It didn’t help you were one of the very few people able to read Vergil. The other one would be Dante.
“Yes, investigation. Not everyone lives of killing people for fun.” Lady’s answer come as a slap on the face, while the woman crossed her arms and stared back at Vergil – and there it was, the fire and hatred he found so familiar.
“Please don’t kill each other.” You sighed, stepping in before Lady got one of her guns out and fired a warning shot right into Vergil’s forehead.
It wouldn’t kill him, but she was known to do that. Dante had told you how they first met.
“Seriously, don’t know how you put up with this guy.” Lady sighed, dismissing him with a quick hand wave. “In any case. There’s some children missing, and I got a call that it might be right up our alley. They don’t have any evidence, but seems legit.”
“You want to check with a quick investigation and then hunt the demons down? Saving the kids we can find on the way?” You already knew Lady’s work ethic for quite a while to know exactly what she had in mind – and the woman just smiled, nodding enthusiastically.
“We gotta find where those pieces of trash are hiding.” Her answer was simple, but she had a devilish smile on her lips. “I don’t think it’ll be quick, though. And it’s two cities away.”
“You will probably be away for a week.” Vergil also knew how both of you worked, making a quick estimation with the few information she had. “Don’t forget to pack a change of clothes this time. Both of you.”
Lady just raised one brow, looking back at you as Vergil finished speaking. As she opened her mouth, you just sighed.
“Yes, he usually is this bossy.” You confirmed before she could even ask – which made your lover slowly turn his silver eyes towards you. “Luckily, I am too.”
With a serene smile, the conversation was over as Lady laughed at Vergil’s empty expression. She couldn’t really read what was going on in his mind, concluding it was probably some level of contempt for what you said.
You were the only one who could read the smile he was hiding in his eyes.
The week had passed and you still weren’t home. Vergil was used to solitude, finding his own company more than sufficient to survive – but, with time, he grew accustomed to having you around. Yes, he was sufficient, but it was about time he learned life wasn’t just about sufficiency and survival. It was also about the more than sufficient things to make it worth living; about enjoying time instead of just steeling himself and powering through adversities.
It was about breathing.
Vergil never thought his heart would be similar to that of a dog, waiting for their family to come home – or maybe that of a child, eagerly expecting their favorite person to arrive. He had plenty of time to learn how to suppress all those feelings and appear as impassive and still as possible, but the only thing he couldn’t do was to control the rate of his heartbeat.
He could mask and lie all he wanted to the outside, but he couldn’t pretend on the inside.
“Hmmm.” He hummed to himself, a little bothered by his own restlessness. It was very unusual, but Vergil had to read the same paragraph a couple of times; his concentration faltering in a way that absolutely displeased him. “Time to move to other activities, then…”
Murmuring to himself, as he got used to doing in his loneliness, Vergil closed the book and left the old tome on a nearby desk, immediately moving to Yamato. Always at arm’s length, his sword was always ready to be used if he ever needed it, no matter the activity – be it cooking, during a stroll or taking a shower: wherever Vergil was, Yamato was close by.
Reading was indeed one of the best ways to occupy his mind and avoid other thoughts, but when that restlessness took over his body, Vergil had to do something a little more physical: and that’s where Yamato would come in. He practiced to perfect his skills to the most polished level, but there was something of meditative in the way Vergil could spend hours repeating the same movements to exhaustion.
Moving meditation, as some would call it. Sometimes, it was too difficult to quiet the mind by just closing his eyes and kneeling completely still – although he did learn how to do exactly that during his time in Hell under Mundus; after all, he was tortured until everything but his spirit broke, and the only thing that made it all bearable was to dissociate his mind from his body, almost as if his soul left for a walk and he could watch everything being done to him as a neutral third party.
Of course, that was far more difficult to do when the torture was psychological rather than physical. But Vergil also had plenty of time to learn how to deal with that.
Whether it was his physical body or his spiritual form, his mind dissociated from his flesh; repeating a few sets of movements and polishing them to perfection always seemed to quiet loud thoughts – or harrowing feelings, both in his body and his heart – with an efficiency that Vergil would forever appreciate.
Mastering Yamato to the peak of its abilities was always one of Vergil’s goals in life: it was his father’s sword, the one Sparda used to seal the gates of Hell, and so an heirloom to be treated with respect and reverence. If he wanted to surpass his own father, the Legendary Dark Knight, Vergil had to wield Yamato with even more dexterity than Sparda did – and that would only happen with training.
He didn’t believe it was something that would have a tangible end, though; Learning is a process for a lifetime, and so Vergil knew he would never stop learning new techniques and polishing what he already knew. But he could do it better than his father, he could hone his skills to a degree no one had achieved before: he just had to keep training and learning.
The weight of Yamato in his hands was always strangely reassuring: his power was tied to his sword, and having it stripped away from him was almost like a death sentence. And, in a way, it was: only when Vergil had Yamato back in his hands he was able to bring himself from the brink of death to a desperate act of survival.
He had to admit, Yamato silenced the desperate beating of his heart and always soothed whatever anxiety he had – only if for a while.
In the middle of the room, Vergil slowly unsheathed the blade, watching as Yamato glistened under the lights. Whenever he would practice in his own mind in order to keep himself distanced from whatever was happening with his physical body, he mustered only a memory of how his sword was – how it felt in his hands, its weight, the roughness of the grip, the texture of the little knots under his fingers, the swiftness of the blade, how perfectly balanced it was around his fingers. It was all from what he remembered, from years of carrying it close to his body so no one would be able to hurt him again.
As his feet moved around the room, Vergil started a few movements – repeating them a few times in a row, with deadly precision. He didn’t know Nero was his son. If he did… He probably wouldn’t have torn his arm apart. Though… What else could have he done? Talked to him, asked for Yamato back, with the hope Nero would believe his words he was his father, back from being kept in Hell for more than twenty years, tortured by his Sparda’s worse enemy? Would Nero believe him and give him that blade, willingly?
If his son was anything like him, he wouldn’t. He would have suspicions, he would’ve called Dante. And, given their history, Vergil had all reasons to believe his brother would’ve ended his life as soon as he laid eyes upon him – after all, it was Dante who defeated him at Temen-ni-gru, it was Dante who killed him as Nelo Angelo. It was logical for Vergil to believe Dante would take advantage of his fragile, crumbling state and finally kill whatever was left of him – Vergil had no reason to believe Dante harbored anything other than hate towards him.
And he had to admit… At that point, he truly believed Dante was the source of all his misfortune.
Only now he could see how rash he was in his youth. How blinded by pain and humiliation he was, how he could have done things differently. Moving his feet slowly, Vergil started repeating a set with seven movements, over and over again – with patience, precision and refinement. He accepted his demonic heritage with pride, but he didn’t know what to do with his human heart. It hurt too much, it bled too much – and he didn’t know how to make it stop. He didn’t have anyone to cradle it, to help him deal with it… He only knew harshness and pain. He only knew the constant taunts of the demons calling him a half-breed, looking down on him, showing contempt for his weakness – his humanity, his putrid human heart, that rot that ran in his veins and made him weak… That trash that would get him killed.
He wasn’t like Dante. He never learned to see that as a source of strength, only of weakness. It was his humanity that made him weak that night, that made those demons pin him down on a grave as a child while tearing his mother apart… It was because he was a half-breed that he wasn’t able to do nothing. Vergil believed, for so long, that if he was a full demon like his father, like Sparda, he would have been able to save her, to save himself. That his half-blood doomed him. He never had the chance to believe it was the thing that saved him, like Dante.
Everyone had all the reason in the world to hate him, and he would never ask for anyone’s forgiveness. After all, he didn’t deserve it. Still repeating those seven movements, Vergil took his time to pay attention to his footwork – one of the most important parts when fighting, to achieve the precision he was known for. He could only hope for some kind of redemption… And the only forgiveness he really needed, was from himself.
That was something he had learned from you – after all, Vergil couldn’t really understand how a human could extend him love after all the things he had done. He believed he could have only death – and that Dante would be in his right to kill him after he came back… But his son was willing to accept him.
In his own way, after fighting Vergil and, quite literally, beating his way into his heart – which Vergil sincerely thought was dead after so much pain.
But Nero did stop Dante. He wouldn’t let Dante and Vergil die: he wanted to know him, his father, Vergil… Even after everything he did. It wasn’t a forgiveness, but the redemption he thought he never deserved. And then, Dante followed him all the way into Hell, to “help” Vergil undo what he had done – something that was his only responsibility and that Dante didn’t need to help him carry. It would be right to have it be a punishment for his wayward actions, but… Dante was to human to punish his brother.
Dante accepted him. Vergil was very aware his presence in Hell with him to cut down the Qliphoth was a choice, not a duty – Dante would say it was to keep an eye in Vergil, but he did know it was for him not to lose himself again. It was for them to be together, because Dante wanted Vergil to be around; he didn’t want to kill him.
And Vergil didn’t want to kill his brother either. He might have said it out loud and be out for blood when they were younger, but, deep down… In his human heart, the only thing Vergil ever wanted was to prove himself.
Repeating the same movements again, now he focused on his hands – how his wrists moved and how he could make the swinging of his sword more fluid and powerful. Vergil had spent so much time drowning in that feeling of worthlessness, of being less because of his half-breed blood, of not being worthy of protection as a child, that he would burn the whole world just to make it go away.
And even if he did, it wouldn’t go away. He would still feel less: his mother wasn’t there to tell him he was worthy of being saved and protected, his father wasn’t there to tell him his half-blood wasn’t a weakness but a strength… His brother wasn’t there to tell him his mother did try to save him and he didn’t deserve to die. Vergil could kill Mundus, he could become Emperor, he could make all demons kneel and bend to his will… He would still have that hole in his chest; that void that told him he would never be enough.
“The only one you need to seek forgiveness from, is yourself.”
You had told him that.
Furrowing his brows, Vergil’s movements became sharper, even if he tried to keep the same flow, steady and swift. Those seven movements. Over and over. Sharper and sharper as his mind kept wandering. It was a quiet afternoon where you both were the only ones around: Vergil reading a philosophy book you recommended, while you spent your time developing your skills with watercolors on a little sketchbook you rested on your thighs – your back on the side of the couch while your legs rested over his, and Vergil kept one of his hands mindlessly drawing a few, slow patterns on your calf.
As always, he mentioned something interesting he had just read; something he would know you would appreciate having a little discussion, ideas you could tell each other and hear how your different minds gave it different interpretations – and, maybe, find new perspectives you hadn’t initially thought of. Something both of you appreciated deeply and would never shy away from – and Vergil loved talking to you. As you both had that conversation, he quietly introduced the theme of forgiveness; indicating, indirectly, his own beliefs that he was completely undeserving of it… And he did not understand how someone like you could extend love to someone like him.
And so, you told Vergil: the only one that had to forgive him, was himself. His punishment would never be over, his pain and the suffering in his heart would never quiet until he was able to forgive himself: his young, reckless, foolish self; that boy who pursued power to the farthest of consequences, the one whose heart was bleeding so much, he locked it away around an armor of hubris and harshness. That child, who would deem himself so cold, but would act so impulsively, his own actions would be his doom. That young boy, so arrogant and hurt, he thought there was no place for him among humans, and that a death by the hands of his father’s worse enemy would be better than a pitiful life begging for some love – so, so arrogant, it would never cross his mind that demons had none of his honor and wouldn’t give him a good, honorable death; only an eternity of pain and humiliation, forever paying for his rashness and hubris.
Could he ever forgive himself for being so naive? So stupid, so blind…? Vergil always tried to think highly of himself – after all, he was reminded every day he was too rotten to be a human, and too impure to be a demon; a lesser being, no matter where he was, in which world he lived. He didn’t belong: constantly reminded he was nothing but trash… So someone had to remind him he was worth something. But could he forgive the path his bleeding heart and proud soul made him tread…?
Vergil’s eyebrows furrowed further, while his hand held the grip of Yamato even tighter – more than he should to wield it. Indeed, you were right: the only one that had to forgive him was himself; and he didn’t know if he could do it. But…
You did tell him something else. “You have to know, you did the best you could with what you had, what you been through, and who you were at that moment.”
It made him wonder, if he could have done anything differently. Vergil mulled over your words for months, and over his own actions.
Could things have been different? Would he be able to do something differently, with all that he had at those moments…? All the pain, all the knowledge, all the hatred, all the anger. Would he be able to act differently? Did he really do the best…?
At the time, he thought he did. Vergil followed the path he thought was best for him; chased the power he thought he needed to have to feel safe, to feel worthy. He didn’t really have anyone by his side telling him to do it differently – in a matter of fact, he had no one. And that was something pivotal to how he developed his beliefs over the years… That boy he was; he couldn’t do anything differently, with his heart bleeding in his hands and his soul desperate for some safety.
And even though he knew that, even though he could extend sympathy for that young reckless hurt child… Vergil had a hard time extending it to himself.
“It is a long journey”, you told him. “One you have to take one day at a time.”
And he could… But when he was alone, left to his own mind and his own devices… It seemed a little more difficult not to fall back into old patterns, beliefs and repetitive thoughts.
The practice with Yamato, then, became instrumental – and that was what he would always do; especially when he didn’t have you to run for some rescue with love and understanding. Vergil learned to accept softness, but only from a select group of people – and that was mostly from you.
The repetitive movement of his hands and feet, masterfully wielding his sword and perfecting every inch that could be slightly wrong, was to keep a creeping feeling away from taking hold of his heart – but it seemed that, every time his thoughts became aware the feeling was there and he wanted to avoid it, it just became bigger and bigger, until his mind couldn’t keep it at bay anymore.
More than one week was too much for you and Lady. He knew both of you, and he had to recognize Lady’s skill as a hunter; same as your skill. A simple work like that should have been completed in no time, and you should be home already.
But everything was silence. No word from you, no call… Not even a feeling. All Vergil had was that stir in his heart, telling him something was wrong – he wouldn’t try to explain it to anyone else, for the only one who could understand it was his son: whenever you were in trouble, his heart would sway, and he knew.
It didn’t feel like trouble this time, but rather… Emptiness. A restless emptiness, that bothered him, chewed the edges of his heart until he would feel his chest tightening. If you were near, Vergil would run to you; to wipe those feelings away, to keep you close, in his vicinity where whatever it was that hurt you couldn’t get to you anymore. He would do it quietly and surely, not allowing that to linger a moment further – and having you back to safety.
Changing his movements, Vergil added a few more strikes to his seven movement routine – striking with more strength, his eyes focused on his imaginary enemy with the coldness of a shard of ice. His heart was restless, eagerly awaiting for your return like a loyal dog, for that creeping feeling gnawing at the edges of his consciousness was a fear he never wanted to look in its ugly face – the fear you wouldn’t come back home.
Not because you didn’t want to and decided to leave him – Vergil could and would accept that, for it was the most logical thing to do given you insanely decided to love a monster. But because you didn’t survive a job that was more dangerous than you could have ever imagined – and he wasn’t there to save you. With all his power, with all he sacrificed and he did over the years to become who he was… You would have perished because he wasn’t there.
Vergil’s steps became faster and his movements harsher; still repeating. Over. And over. And over. Again. And Again. And Again. And he would do it until his hands started bleeding.
The thought of you not returning… He couldn’t even imagine what would happen. Vergil liked to think he would be able to retain his humanity, but that was only him fooling himself. He knew it would damn his human heart. If he lost anyone he loved at this point in his life… The world would burn. Because Vergil would be no more, and nothing would be left. Not even his demonic instinct, for it was also part of his heart and it did care deeply about them; about you. What would be left, would be a husk: a shadow of himself, devoid of everything; Filled only by emptiness, heart eaten by void, soul engulfed in pure darkness…
Nelo Angelo.
The last strike of that string of movements was harsh enough to cut through the air and create a long indentation on the wall – making some of its pieces crumble on the floor, leaving a line at least two meters long.
Vergil frowned, anchoring himself back into the present. The meditation was supposed to help, not to let his mind wander through that fanged anxiety that was chewing his heart open. It was supposed to calm him, to quiet him, to ground him.
Vergil closed his eyes, slowly sheathing Yamato while taking a long, deep breath. The familiar clique of the guard hitting the sheathe did help unscramble his thoughts from his troubled heart; Maybe it was time to take his boots off and physically feel things that could bring him back to that moment – the slight chill of the wood, the texture of the battered ground, the hardness of the pavement… Senses he could focus on and tell him that his mind was wandering too much; Through realities that he didn’t even know if they would come to pass.
Things only his foolish heart could feel.
But Vergil shot his head up and opened his eyes at the exact moment he heard the familiar metallic noise of someone handling the doorknob – and there was only one person who opened the door that way, with that sound.
You were home.
The faint smile on his lips and the soothing wave that finally silenced his heart didn’t last too long; for soon Vergil saw your face and the shadow that appeared to linger over your eyes.
Your eyes, that always seemed to carry so much light – a light he once heard his son mentioning he forever saw in his lover, Kyrie, that guided his heart towards the correct path. Vergil only understood when he saw that glimmer in you, shining brightly deep inside your eyes – almost like a secret, only to be seen by a select few; and you graced him with the honor to be one of those. Vergil could understand the words of his son…
And that light, seemed to be overcast by a quite unusual fog of darkness at the moment.
You barely noticed Vergil was there – and, if you did, you probably didn’t acknowledge it; almost as if your mind was far away while you came in, carrying your handbag, and locked the door behind you. He didn’t take it as you ignoring him, but rather as being so disconnected from reality, you didn’t even notice what was going on around you.
“Welcome home.” His voice was quiet and dark as always, but it seemed to be enough to snap you back into reality. As soon as your eyes met him, your expression softened a bit, with a slight smile on the corner of your lips.
“Hello, love.” Even then, Vergil couldn’t refrain from noticing how stiff your smile looked, and how your eyebrows still seemed to carry a sort of worry. Softened, yes, but not gone – masking your discomfort, as he knew quite well you were proficient at.
“I’m glad you are back.” He walked towards you, as you did the same – Vergil already meaning to reach out for your handbag.
“I’m glad to be home.” When you got to him, though, it was as if you hadn’t even noticed his hand; reaching out for a kiss.
He would never deny affection whenever you sought for it – but Vergil was proficient in noticing every faint detail you either did mindlessly out of habit, or you did out of trying to hide something deep within yourself. The way your lips slightly trembled against his, a little too stiff, too contained for the kisses you would usually offer him, told Vergil today was the later.
“Something is bothering you.” His voice was almost a murmur as you separated your lips from his; already knowing in your heart there was very little you could hide from him.
As always, Vergil wouldn’t ask. He would state, waiting for you to eventually be comfortable enough to talk about it – confident in his skills of reading his loved ones, as he was in reading his enemies during a fight.
“It’s nothing.” You closed your eyes, sighing with a small smile on his lips. It was actually quite naive of you to think you could hide from those ever attentive silvery eyes. “I’m tired, Vergil. That’s all. I need some time to… Recollect.”
Your choice of words certainly made him more puzzled – evidenced by the way he furrowed his brows. Recollect was different than rest, and you rarely used words carelessly. In a matter of fact, when you used a word like that, it usually was very much attached to its meaning; something Vergil would always appreciate.
“Hmmm…” And, even if you tried to dismiss him, Vergil quietly moved his free hand over yours, holding the handbag with a silent request for you to let go and let him carry it. And let go you did, as he towered behind you, following your every step, as your very own demon of death. “Interesting choice of words.”
“I thought you would appreciate it.” Your answer, though, had a smile on your voice that didn’t mirror back to your lips – entering your room, your heart was torn between taking a shower or resting on your bed; and, if you were to be honest, you didn’t really know what to do. “You are worrying too much, Vergil, I can see it in your eyes. But you don’t have to…” As soon as you said that, you turned around and found him less than one foot away from you; still closely following his beloved. There was something of adorable in that. “I’m just tired. I am human after all, and it was a… Trying week.”
“Trying…?” He raised his eyebrows, still following you with that predator gaze – the one Vergil always seemed to wear whenever he was paying attention. He wasn’t doing that to hunt you, though, but out of all the worry that pooled around his heart… He didn’t really know how to wear a different kind of gaze. “From what I remember, Lady didn’t expect it to be a difficult job.”
“Hmmm. It wasn’t necessarily difficult…” You sighed while taking off your boots and leaving them in the corner of the room you both usually left your shoes. Vergil did notice you leaned on the wall to keep your balance… And to keep your back towards him – not allowing him to look into your eyes. “It was… Exhausting. I can’t explain it better.”
“Huh.” As soon as you heard him, though, it was like a cube of ice going down your spine. You knew quite well when your lover didn’t believe your words – when he knew you were lying. And you could bet he noticed you were avoiding his eyes so he wouldn’t be able to read you further – like one of his books. “Now that is a lie.”
And you could always count on Vergil to be starkly honest about it.
You appreciated it. But sometimes, like in that day, you absolutely loathed it.
“You know your way around words…” As he spoke, Vergil approached you, having left your handbag at the foot of the bed. You slowly turned around – meeting your blue devil calmly walking towards you… And you had to wonder if his enemies felt like that when he cornered them. “I find it hard to believe you can’t find the ones to talk to me.”
You sighed, closing your eyes. Vergil wasn’t easy to fool, only when he lost his temper and anger was boiling inside his chest. When he had his head back in place, though… The mask that you were so used to wearing was useless.
“I don’t want to worry you, Vergil. You don’t have to.” You opened your eyes, looking back into his silvery gaze. This time, though, you decided not to run from it anymore – he had already noticed, so there was no point in hiding or trying to maintain that cracked mask anymore. “You don’t have to carry more than you already have in your shoulders; I can do it by myself. And I don’t want to bother you with things that are leaving my heart restless. They will eventually wash away, I just need… Some time.”
“Time...” Once again, he frowned – that shadow Vergil carried over his eyes darkening his gaze even more. It was, though, different from the one he wore when hunting demons; this one was a shadow of worry, of debating what to do in that situation: born out of care, not of blood. “If you need me, I am here.”
And that looming presence he always was, turned around, making his way to the bed. If there was one thing you would forever be grateful for, was that Vergil understood your need for space – especially regarding sharing your feelings. He would never force you to do something you weren’t comfortable, but he would leave a path open for you to find him when you were ready.
Something you always did to him as well.
“You can talk, if you want to.” He stopped a few steps away from the bed, almost looking over his shoulder as he always did, his back still turned to you. “I’ll listen.”
Ever so quietly, Vergil resumed his steps and sat by the end of the bed, right on the edge, so he could finally take off his boots. You observed him as he undid every buckle on the side of his right leg – calmly, as a daily ritual of his, of getting dressed and undressed. It was one of his little meditations, repetitive small acts of his mundane life that grounded Vergil in reality and quieted his heart – and the demons that lived in the darkest corners; the nightmares that lingered forever in stillness until they decided to take hold of his soul whenever he wasn’t in full control of himself.
You couldn’t stop yourself from frowning. You knew that underneath that quiet demeanor, Vergil had a storm raging in his heart and mind that, sometimes, could not be contained – and he did by taking small steps; small actions, every day, steady but surely… Little meditations that helped him survive, as he did during his time in Hell.
If there was someone in this world that could help with that void eating at the edges of your heart, that someone was Vergil.
Quietly, you approached the bed. Vergil didn’t look at you: he kept on with his task of unbuckling his boots and taking them off to rest by his side. Even so, it wasn’t that he didn’t notice, it was something that he always did not to scare you away – no intrusive stares, no pressuring availability: only a quiet presence, ready to be by your side while you told him what was weighing your mind.
“I…” As you sat by his side, you started trying to find the correct words… Even though you didn’t even know where to begin. “This week… It was horrible.”
Silence lingered between you as Vergil slowly stopped his task of taking off his boots and turned all his attention towards you. It had no expectation: only a quiet look that waited, so you could find what you were searching for.
“We are used to seeing demons doing the most horrid things, but… This time…” As you spoke, Vergil couldn’t refrain from frowning: the more you tried to tell him, the more it seemed that light of yours he loved so much would never sparkle in your eyes again.
And he tried to ignore the fear that settled at the base of his stomach, almost as a still creature that would never leave. He would never stop loving you, no matter how overcast your heart became, but he did wonder… What manner of horror you had to see to engulf your soul in darkness.
“You deem yourself a devil, Vergil. That there’s no light left in you, only darkness and destruction…” You sighed, looking down at some lost spot on the floor, trying to bring into words the turmoil inside your chest. Vergil furrowed his brows further, your words taking him by surprise – something you could only read in his eyes, since he always managed to control his body so well not to show his emotions. “I don’t think you have seen true evil, then. True darkness. It’s a bottomless pit filled with muck, staining everything that it touches.”
The despise in your voice could only be compared to his, when Vergil deemed whoever he was talking to as an utterly inferior creature – usually demons, but he met many humans that deserved that tone as well. Your words, though, did catch him by surprise: after all, he was tortured by the Emperor of Hell, in the lowest of its pits. He knew true evil.
“You’re… You’re an angel compared to that. You have morals, standards. You wanted power to feel safe, not to abuse others... And now, you use it to protect the ones you love. Evil doesn’t know love. You do.”
Vergil turned his gaze to the empty spot on the floor you kept staring so intently, now lost in his own thoughts while crossing his arms in his usual pensive demeanor – and all he could think about was what was the horror you witnessed that week to have you thinking so highly of him.
For all effects and purposes, by human standards, he was a monster. Irredeemable, even, to some people. What he did as Urizen… Even if he wasn’t whole, if he as both halves of himself would probably have reconsidered the use of the Qliphoth – or, at the very least, taken into account destroying an entire city and sacrificing so many lives for his own personal gain – it was still an action to be considered his; the responsibility for what Urizen had done still rested in his hands, since it came from part of his heart, part of his mentality that kept him moving through his whole cursed life: that only the strong survived and if he didn’t do everything within his reach to become the most powerful demon that ever lived, he would always be at mercy of someone more powerful. Someone like Mundus.
That strict, harsh view of the world led him to irredeemable actions – and its consequences. Nowadays, he would’ve never raised the Qliphoth, he wouldn’t have doomed an entire city and its people just so he could feel safe. But he couldn’t go back on what he had done – he could only try to make up for his wayward actions; to pay for the dark, unforgivable soul he had inside of him and not hope for forgiveness, but for some kind of redemption – however it looked like.
And now, here you were, saying he was closer to an angel than a demon.
“There were no demons in this job.” Your voice carried a sharp coldness Vergil never heard from your lips, having him immediately snap out of his ever spiraling thoughts. “All those horrible crimes, those teens and children missing… No demons. Only humans.” There was an edge of a growl to your last word, as if you despised that kind of humanity as much as you loathed demons – that made Vergil raise his brows; he had never heard you speaking on that tone. “And I killed them. All of them.” It was a death sentence: the wrathful emptiness of a soul who faced horror and decided to put an end to it. “They weren’t humans in my book.”
You kept staring at the same lost spot on the floor, the only inflection of emotion residing in how quietly sharp you sounded. Vergil turned his silver eyes back to you, now with his jaw tense besides his furrowed brows.
If the sins of humans were comparable to that of demons, he deemed them demons too – and Vergil knew quite well some humans could be worse than demons. In his eyes, what you did was justice and he always would stand by that. But he also knew that was the kind of justice it didn’t resolve in your heart, it weighed you down.
“In arcane teachings, everything is powered by energy. And most energy is fueled by emotions.” His voice was careful, as always; slow, as Vergil found the correct words to explain his thoughts: his speech was always intentional, unless when his twin made him lose his temper. “You know the most powerful of spells are those that burn along with the strongest of emotions. We usually harness them, keep them for later, as fuel to be used when we need them the most. But when we burn…” He let out a deep sigh, correcting his posture and looking back at you. Vergil knew quite well what was like not being able to hold back on your feelings and lash out – and he also knew the aftermath. “Great deeds come from it… But it also depletes us completely.”
“Hmmm. That’s exactly how I feel…” Now it was your turn to furrow your brows, surveying that turmoil inside your heart. “Depleted. Empty. Like…”
You still searched for words. It was as if there was a fog inside your head and you had to chase in the corners of your mind to string them properly and explain how you were feeling. Luckily, you had Vergil by your side, waiting patiently and quietly, but also knowing exactly which words you were hunting down.
“Like your energy has been taken away from you and it is scattered around; for everyone else to make use of it but yourself.” He completed your thoughts after waiting a few seconds – and your eyes finally jolted back to his: now with the gentleness of someone who is being seen for the very first time.
Although it did soothe his heart, if only just a little. He appreciated your sharp look, yes, but he did adore the softness you reserved only for him.
“I…” And as you stared into his eyes, you only found patience and knowing: Vergil wasn’t going anywhere. There was no rush to figure things out, to fix them and to keep going. Everything was still; as still as your lover sitting right by your side, arms crossed, open to listen for an eternity, if you were to need it. “I don’t know what I need. I just know I’m tired. Not physically, but…”
“Inside.” Vergil nodded slowly, recognizing things he had felt before and still harbored in himself. Days like the one you were going through were hard, and sometimes could extend to weeks if you didn’t care for yourself. “You have to go back to yourself. Take some time.”
You just glared back at him: both of you weren’t exactly known for being gentle with your feelings and stopping for some rest.
“You’re one to talk.”
“I know, love.” Vergil let out a quiet giggle while slightly shaking his head – he knew he was giving advice he himself would ignore depending on the situation. “But I also know sometimes I can’t keep going without recollecting myself. When your heart is numb and your body is exhausted, it leads to… Imprudent decisions.” Vergil took a deep breath – and the eyes you found now had a certain vulnerability he would always reserve to you. “Grounding is what kept me alive, during days there was nothing to do but wait. My body and mind broke, but not my spirit. And you cannot let yours break.”
“Hmmm. That’s why you meditate so much.” As you spoke, Vergil once again slowly nodded, with a faint smile on the corner of his lips. “I… Don’t know if that would help. It feels like… I can’t feel anything at all, but exhaustion. As strange as it sounds, even sleeping sounds tiring – and that I can’t explain better.”
Vergil had to turn a smart, side-eye gaze to you, recognizing how you were referring back to when he pointed out there were very few things you couldn’t explain and you were just lying to avoid him. You didn’t have a smile on your face, but you did look slightly more peaceful than when you entered home that night – and that he could read as a good thing.
Your light wasn’t gone, it was just muted. Suddenly, that fear that settled at the base of his stomach crawled back to the depths of his soul where it came from – not lost forever but safely locked away, for the time being.
“One step at a time.”
And that was one of the rare moments you could see in Vergil’s lips a small smile – hidden like a ghost, one only a medium like you could identify in the haunted structure that he was.
You only smiled back and, with a deep sigh, you closed your eyes and rested your head on his shoulder. If you had your eyes opened, you would be able to see that now, that ghost was an entire apparition, while he silently awaited for you to grow tired of his presence.
*
If you had to walk small steps, then that was what you were going to do – and that was why you were taking your time to feel the water on your face, as you slowly did your evening bathroom routine.
It was actually Vergil who pushed you – gently, you had to note – to refresh yourself, put on some comfortable clothes and try to start winding down; and so, you decided to do it as one of his small, mundane meditations he always did.
Strangely helpful and soothing, that you had to note. Taking your time to do things, instead of always rushing as if you had an appointment you were already running late, gradually worked on grounding you back into that moment. Your heart seemed to be beating again, and that unfeeling void in your chest didn’t look anymore like a monster that would never go away.
Expecting to find Vergil in your room, you exited the bathroom with the words already at the tip of your tongue to state how much his advice ended up helping – even if just a little.
But he was nowhere to be seen.
“Vergil…?” You now wore a slight frown, quickly searching the room with your eyes only to find nothing.
Until a sweet scent reached you from the outside of the bedroom.
Intriguing, to say the very least. You left your used clothes folded on the bed, following that rich, and almost dark, sugary scent. You barely noticed how focusing on that seemed to slowly bring your heart back, with each step allowing itself to feel a little bit more, to be present once more.
And even more intriguing than the scent, was your find: Vergil in the kitchen, his eyes focused but with a tinge of tiredness – of someone who spent a whole week wasting energy on worrying and was now feeling the toll of it – carefully pouring some hot chocolate inside two fancy porcelain teacups; painted with flowers and golden filigrees, your favorite ones.
“Oh. I didn’t know that was in the Dark Slayer’s extensive roster of abilities.” You had to point it out. After all, you knew the first time Vergil ever drank some hot chocolate again was when you made him some – the last time being when Eva did it, during his childhood.
“It is a secret one.” He didn’t turn his eyes to you, but you could see that ghost of a smile hidden in the corners of his words. You would always appreciate how Vergil seemed so gentle around you, in his own way. “Reserved only to a few.”
With that, he finally turned to you by his side, offering one of the teacups. You couldn’t refrain a genuine smile to softly color your lips upon noticing he offered you the one with a plethora of purple flowers while he kept the one with the blue flowers to himself.
“Careful. It’s hot.”
Vergil didn’t have to point it out, for you were always cautious with your teacups – especially when their contents were too warm – but he did it anyway. As you both leaned on the kitchen counter side by side, you held the cup near your lips, blowing on it to cool the chocolate a little bit.
“I learned plenty from watching my father while he trained.” Vergil’s voice was quiet, almost as if his words were for your ears only and he didn’t want to risk it falling in the wrong ones. “We do learn a lot from observing the ones we love.”
This time, the smile spreading on your lips was a little more colorful, and you could feel a golden wave taking over your chest – that horrible void that had been suffocating you through the whole week finally being defeated by something else… Something better. Vergil wasn’t one to speak his feelings and make himself vulnerable out loud, but he was one to imply so only the most attentive ones would notice.
You were very well attuned to your lover to understand. He never really watched Eva in the kitchen when he was a child, only a few times; but never with enough attention on what she was doing, but on her: the lullaby she hummed, the way she smiled at him – and then, eventually, she would tell him to go outside play with his brother or read one of his books instead of wasting his time there with her. He always wished he had wasted more time with her, but that was something he couldn’t go back to.
When the taste of the chocolate hit your tongue, you closed your eyes. It tasted almost exactly like the way you did it, with a slight spin of Vergil’s own touch to the recipe. To know you were loved enough to be carefully observed by your lover, in a caring manner that made him know exactly how you did things without ever needing to ask you…
The numbness in your heart was being slowly fought away, by a silent angel of death that stood by your side with an immobile certainty he would always be there, no matter how hard – or harrowing – the storm.
“Thank you, Vergil.” Your voice was a whisper, as your lips left the porcelain – and your eyes were kept shut, as the storm in your heart started overflowing. This time, though, out of being seen… And utterly adored. “I am glad we found each other, to have you in my life… And that you exist.”
As you laid your head on his shoulder once again, still keeping your rainfall eyes closed, it was Vergil’s turn to close his.
But just like you, he couldn’t stop his silvery glaciers from melting down his face.
Neither his ghostly smile from becoming another rather beautiful apparition.
*
“I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz, or arrow of carnations that propagate fire: I love you as one loves certain obscure things, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom, but carries the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself, and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose from the earth lives dimly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where; I love you directly without problems or pride: I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love, except in this form in which I am not nor are you, so close that your hand upon my chest is mine, so close that your eyes close with my dreams.”
So, I bring you one of the stupidest things you'll witness today: yours truly, fighting Vergil for the 1st time when going through DMC 3 on my laptop (I used to play on my PS2 15 years ago, this motherfucker gave me PTSD).
But I edited it because of 3 stupid funny things that happened to me:
1st: it wasn't a fancy both of us attacking at the same time, it was Dante and Vergil touched each other and it *HuRt* (evidenced by my little note of "what?" 'cause I really don't know what happened there)
2nd: Vergil taunted me 2 times in a row, of course I taunted back and the man just. stopped. and stared. And he wouldn't move unless I started shooting - so he judgment cut me and never in my life I felt so judged HAHAHA
3rd: AND THIS IS THE GOLDEN ONE. I know this is a move you can do, but I don't know how. But THIS is the moment I saw it for the 1st time: Dante kicked Vergil's ass like a football.
No Rebellion. No guns. No nothing. Just *KiCkInG* his brother, right in the ass. I started laughing so much, I actually died a few seconds later
15 years playing this freaking game and I've never been able to do that on my PS2. Enhanced Edition comes and, lo and behold, I'm kicking Vergil like a ball in no time.
And a little slow motion as the last clip, so you can all watch Vergil's soul leaving his body as he gets kicked in the ass. this is canon to me now
also, you can do this move as Vergil, but only with the Force Edge and it was as well one of the funniest things I've ever saw. Vergil, the Dark Slayer, Son of Sparda, carrying himself like royalty... Kicking a demon right in the face, absolutely fucking pissed off.
Dante & Vergil caring for their s/o pretending to be fine on a low-energy/emotionally exhausted day - Dante Chapter
Pairings: Dante x Reader
Summary: You could always expertly pretend everything was alright - you couldn't, however, run for too long from the eyes of your lover. Even if you didn't want to worry him, you were the easiest book for him to read.
Restrictions: Things are superficially mentioned and implied. Your job involves children and teens being kidnapped, and the main culprits this time... Are humans - hence your emptiness and exhaustion. There's no more detail other than that, but I do think a warning is always nice if you want to avoid it.
Author’s Notes: I've been feeling horribly drained and empty from watching a few news and seeing some cases that, honestly, feels like my soul has left my body. This is 1st part of me coping with that in writing, so I do hope it helps other people too.
Also: I was listening to I'll Be Your Home on repeat writing this, and it shows. Dante has been hitting me with feels for a while now, and I'll make it everyone's problem :)
Vergil version will be up with the same name with the added "Vergil Chapter" after it - I just haven't finished it yet. Halfway through it ;)
Dante
If there was one thing in this life Dante was very good at – and he was proficient in lots of things – that would be the ability to tell with a certainty when your vibe was off.
“Pfff, y/n vibe bein’ off? What’s that now? 70’s hippie new age stuff? Vibe chekin’…?” Nero made some waves with his fingers while making his voice a little spookier, poking fun at Dante the first time he absentmindedly mentioned something was wrong with your vibe.
As always, Dante shrugged it off, casually sighing.
“Hey, kid, that’s how we used to say in my time.” And of course, he wouldn’t miss the opportunity of poking some fun back at Nero. “Gimme a break, will ya? But yeah, somethin’s off. Bet’cha can feel that with your girl too.”
“Kyrie? What, like…?”
Dante would always appreciate how the simple mention of Kyrie could make Nero go from 100 to 0 in the span of a second. He could be dressed as a clown: simply by saying her name, Nero would immediately turn mindful and seriously focused.
That, in Dante’s book, was one of the best indicators Nero would never follow the same path as his father.
“Ya know. Bet she has days when she tells ya everythin’s alright, but you can feel somethin’. In the way she talks, in the way she moves. How her shoulders are slightly tighter, how her brows look like they never relax, how her hands move around nervously, almost shakin’.” As Dante described, both uncle and nephew didn’t exchange looks, but in their minds they could almost see everything he was talking about – each with their respective partners. “If you ask, she’ll smile and brush it off, ‘cause she doesn’t wanna worry you. But’cha know somethin’ ain’t right, and with only a glance you know…”
“Her vibe is off.” Nero looked back at Dante, with the man flashing him a quick smile and a wink, glad his nephew caught up. “Damn. Makes sense, I know what’cha talkin’ ‘bout. And I hate it, thanks.”
“You gotta better way to describe it?” Dante let out a hearty laugh, opening his arms. “Be my guest, come up with somethin’ better!”
“I… Tsk!” Nero almost rolled his eyes, already shaking his head. “You just explained it to me! I can’t make somethin’ up so fast…!”
“’Cause ya know the vibe is the best definition…!”
And that discussion would go on for hours – with Nero eventually giving in and adopting the “vibe is off” from Dante’s vocabulary.
Memories aside, that was precisely what the red devil was thinking about while sitting at his usual desk at the Devil May Cry: that day, your vibe was off.
You didn’t even try to convince him much: as soon as you got a call, you left for a job on your own, telling Dante you didn’t need him around and he could stay at the shop, in case someone called for him specifically. It should be easy so don’t worry about it, you said with a proper smile on your lips, before grabbing your gear, quickly kissing him and leaving on your motorcycle.
But something wasn’t right in that smile of yours: it was a little too perfect, too contained. Your shoulders were in high alert and your whole body looked tense, as if ready to be attacked at any moment. Your quick kiss trembled in his lips for a fraction of a second – but, during that half-second, you hesitated. As if maybe you should tell him something, deciding you ultimately shouldn’t.
Everything was right and you should be back by nightfall. But something in you was off, something in your vibe. Dante couldn’t quite put it into words, but he would bet he would be able to sniff it out of you when you entered in the shop.
The sky outside was already tinging with a dark shade of purple, the burnt orange shades far away on the horizon line, ready to plunge into darkness until the next day. Soon, the moon would be out, with its pale glow to faintly bright up a dark navy blue – and you still hadn’t returned; from an easy job.
If Dante was competent at what he did, you were too. He never doubted your abilities and, if you considered it easy, then he considered it easy – and calculated how long it should take by his standards. After all, you were more than capable to follow his pace, and that was something he was always so grateful for.
Looking over his magazine, Dante had been stationary on that page for almost an hour already. Nothing too special: an article about the latest guns in the market, something he was interested about, but nothing would really beat Ebony and Ivory. He had read that a couple of times already, and was beginning to string phrases that weren’t really there; piecing together words from the beginning of the paragraph with words at the end, making absolutely no sense.
He stared at the heavy wooden doors of the Devil May Cry. Dark skies, fixed silence, and you still weren’t back home.
“What gives…?” Dante sighed to himself, furrowing his brows. Turning his sky-blue eyes back to the article, he pretended to read some more, while his mind kept on thinking about you.
He was too worried, and he knew how you hated when he got worried like that – something about seeming like he didn’t trust you to do your job and get it done without getting hurt. Dante had explained a thousand times it wasn’t like that at all, and did his best to avoid smothering you and being overprotective… But he couldn’t help how his heart would beat completely out of sync when you weren’t around when your vibe was off.
He couldn’t help it. Dante loved you too much to ignore when he felt something was bothering you – and to not worry when a supposedly easy job was taking a lot more time than him, and you, expected.
“Aaah, damn… It’s hopeless…” Dante murmured to himself, finally tossing the magazine on his desk and getting up right after; tossing his hair around to see if that could at least relieve some of his anxiety.
He would never comb it back like Vergil, though. Definitely not his style.
Maybe he could take a shower, to cool his head and see if those worried thoughts would wash down the drain – at least a little. Dante was avoiding resorting to his whiskey bottle, but… Well, if it got too bad; if memories started coming back, haunting him, telling him the same thing that happened to everyone in his life was going to happen to you, that you would burn just like everyone else, then a few shots wouldn’t hurt.
Hunting wouldn’t hurt, either. Fighting and killing demons was always very efficient in making Dante’s thoughts finally shut up for a second – when he was constantly fighting for his life and with a real danger of having his head cut off his body, the fear and adrenaline were more important than whatever ghost hiding in the corner of his mind. The haunting always subsided, at least for a few moments.
“Hmmm, what y/n does again…?” Dante sighed once more, hands on his hips while slowly pacing around the shop. “Tea. Some tea... Might help.”
That was one of the things you did, whenever you noticed Dante’s demons were coming out of their cage to taunt him. It was strange, even, how well you could read him: he wouldn’t say a word, but suddenly you were bringing him something soothing – not to his body, but to his soul. A warm cup of tea, some hearty hot chocolate… You always managed to bring him something to comfort – and you stayed. Talked, until his monsters were tightly bound inside their closets again.
Not with violence. But with care.
Halfway to the kitchen, though, Dante perked up as soon as he heard the familiar noise of the front door handle being pushed. Spinning in his heels, he quickly turned around, with a satisfied smile plastered on his lips.
Dante thought the sight of you would be enough to have his ghosts disappear for the time being, back to the darkness where they belonged, far away from your light. But, as soon as his eyes met you, Dante couldn’t hold back the frown that took over his face.
“Hey, babe. Somethin’ wrong?”
Of course something was wrong – he believed he could sniff it out of you, and sniff he did: you looked up to him, blood sprinkled over your clothes and some even on your face, with the emptiest eyes he had ever seen. And that was something quite out of the ordinary: if there was something Dante adored, was the light you had inside your eyes; that spark of life that always proved him there was good in this world, and a lot of it lived inside your soul.
That evening, though, your eyes seemed opaque, completely void. They were already threatening to become like that when he sensed your vibe was off, but right now… Well, now Dante could clearly see it.
“Hmmm…?” You had your brows furrowed, looking up at Dante as if you hadn’t seen him there – which was quite a feat, considering his size and how much he always lit up the room for you. Upon finding the worry contained in his sky-blue eyes, though, you immediately forced a serene smile to spread across your lips. “Oh. It’s nothing, babe. Just… A little harder than I expected, that’s all.”
And there it was: the mask you used to hide behind every time you didn’t want to get him worried. It didn’t matter how well you crafted and wore it, Dante was still able to read the truth; after all, you couldn’t fake that spark in your eyes he loved so much. And, no matter how hard you tried to conceal it, that spark was dormant, hidden behind a cloud of conflicting emotions you didn’t want to tell him about.
“I see…” Dante slowly approached, almost casually, playing your game as you closed the door – turning your back to him, so you didn’t have to put on the act too much. He crossed his arms, still observing: you’d always find a way to avoid his eyes when your vibe was off. “Lady and Trish…?”
“We had to split up at some point, I handled things…” You shrugged, still fumbling with the door lock and your gear, as if everything else in this world was more important than Dante at that moment. You could feel his eyes burning on the back of your head. “Called them, they got their side done, I got my side done, they’re now collecting the pay. Lady will transfer my cut when she’s got the money.”
“So you came back on your own?” It wasn’t out of character for the three of you to split up and go your own ways after calling each other – but still. Your vibe was off.
“I was closer to the shop, figured three devil hunters to collect a pay is overkill.” You let a little laugh at the end of your sentence, but something about it felt a little forced. Finally, you turned around, meeting Dante only a few feet away from you – with those sky-blue eyes that always seemed to read your soul. It was comforting, even if you didn’t want to worry him. “I’m tired. I just wanna take a shower and rest. They can handle it on their own.”
“Lady can always handle the money, alright.” He had a half-smile on the corner of his lips, having you mirror his demeanor – this, at least, was sincere. It was almost like your vibe attuned back; though it didn’t last long. “You sure everythin’s alright, babe…? Your shoulders are kinda tense.”
“Well, I just spent a whole day fighting, they’re bound to get like that, I guess.” You sighed heavily, although trying to keep your voice lighthearted. Dante did notice how you said you spent the day fighting, not killing demons. You usually said the later, in a jokingly, carefree manner, even. “Nothing some hot water won’t dissolve, I think.”
“Hmmm. I can always rub that tension out of ya.” Dante winked back, with a smart smile coloring his lips – he knew how much you appreciated his playful flirting. “These hands are used to hard work, babe.”
“Oh… As much as I appreciate the massage offer, Dante…” And you turned your eyes away from him, already making your way to the stairs. He couldn’t refrain from frowning a bit – he expected one of your playful nicknames for him, like big guy, red devil, cowboy… Not Dante. It felt like being called by his full name by his mother. “I’ll have to pass. I really need a shower and some rest.”
“Can’t force you to do somethin’ you don’t wanna do, babe…” He sighed, following you upstairs almost like your very own towering guardian demon, ready to catch you if you fell. Even if you were doing something completely mundane and uneventful, like climbing a set of stairs. “I’ll be ‘round if ya need me, ‘k?”
“You don’t have to worry about me, Dante.” Still, he followed you inside the bedroom, as if now you two were connected and nothing would be enough to make him go away. And, again, he felt the same thing upon hearing you call him Dante. “You can do your own things, I’ll be fine. It’s just a shower for a tired human body, that’s all.”
“I’ve read that same damn article five times already, don’t need to read it a sixth time.” Dante finally stopped in the middle of the room, forcing you to do the same – halfway to the bathroom, with your clean clothes you gathered while he followed you around and you avoided his eyes. Now, you couldn’t avoid those piercing, but loving, sky-blue eyes. “What’s wrong, y/n? You know you can talk to me.”
You immediately frowned as your jaw tightened a little; and there you were thinking you were doing a good job at deflecting Dante’s questions and looking as fine as you could be. You also understood how he felt when you called him so starkly by his name while trying to match your usual playful, carefree talks.
“I…” Closing your eyes, you finally took a deep breath. If you kept staring at Dante for too long, you wouldn’t be able to keep your cool facade for too long. “I’m just… Tired. That’s all. I don’t want you to worry about me, Dante, I’ll be fine –“
“But I do worry ‘bout you.” He wasn’t one to interrupt you while you spoke – in a matter of fact, Dante never interrupted you. But, this time, he felt like he needed to; and you needed to listen.
“I know.” You opened your eyes again, gazing back at Dante. The more you did, though, the more the lump in your throat seemed to grow; and that turmoil stirring inside your chest started building up, almost like knowing Dante could weather the storm, whatever it was. You didn’t want him to weather that storm, though: it was yours to carry and he already had too much inside of himself to endure. “But I don’t want you to. It’s… It’s probably going to wear off in a while, I just need to wind down a little, I…” You sighed again, that frown taking over your face – your mask cracking ever so slightly. “I’m just tired. Our job is tiring and my full human body needs its time to recover. I’ve been pushing myself, I think I just need some rest. You can stop worrying.”
“Well, ok, y/n…” Dante shook his head and you knew he didn’t buy it – but, if there was something you were thankful for your red devil, was that he never pushed too much when you weren’t ready for something. Even if everyone believed otherwise, Dante was quite patient – especially with your time regarding your own feelings. “Like I said, I’m gonna be ‘round. If you need me, gimme a shout, ok…?
“Ok.” You now had a sincere slight smile on your lips – and that made Dante’s heart light up a little bit. “Thank you, Dante.”
“No need to thank me, y/n.” His answer wasn’t loud and spirited as always, but low and calm; almost like a murmur, as Dante approached and placed a kiss on your forehead.
As he moved to the bed, sitting on the edge and taking off his worn boots, you followed to the bathroom – leaving the door slightly open, as you both always did when you were in the shower. That way, you kept your privacy, but if any of you needed the other, you could always talk and easily enter without having to worry.
The warm water of the shower certainly felt like a blessing – something that could, indeed, help your tense shoulders relax a little bit. You had to admit, it wasn’t as effective as Dante’s hands: with years of devil hunting, he was quite proficient in massages to relax the muscles. As he said, those hands did do more than just killing, and you never passed the chance to have him help your tension wash away…
But you were avoiding staying near him, and you didn’t really know why. Your heart was strange, your chest feeling void and light. You didn’t expect a job to affect you that much, but it did – and you didn’t want to admit it.
You, Lady and Trish had been tracking down what seemed to be a bunch of demons that kept moving from town to town, always covering their tracks. Dante did find that job interesting, since that type of behavior indicated higher-ranking demons – the ones that weren’t moved only by their thirst of blood, but that could actually think of intricate plans and tried to stay one step ahead of hunters.
They weren’t the most common of types, but they did exist. Dante would have joined you and the ladies to track them down, but Nero had a job lined up that ended up needing more than one hunter. Since you and the ladies were more than capable to handle things, Dante decided to help the kid – if you needed a hand, he would always answer your call.
As you kept on investigating, you started picking up leads that changed your suspicions regarding those demons – but you decided to keep that to yourself. As the week went by and Trish finally found their hiding location, you were more and more certain of what your intuition was telling you – and you didn’t want to be. You hoped to be wrong.
It wore you down, though. Every time you were out working, it seemed like you were wasting double the energy you would usually waste, and it took a toll on you. Deciding to carry everything silently, you didn’t want to worry Dante with something you didn’t even know if it was true.
But it was. And that day, the job took so long because your intuition was right. And you hated it.
You could easily understand Dante when his eyes were opaque and his heart seemed to have vanished from his chest – those days when he sat on his desk, no magazine in hand, just staring at some empty spot or at the portrait of his mother. The days when his soul seemed to be gone, and all that energy he always carried around was nowhere to be seen. He needed to recharge: he needed comfort, love and gentleness; though everything he always got was blood, hatred and harshness.
It felt like your heart weighed inside your chest, and you could barely bring yourself to finish your shower. You didn’t know exactly what you were feeling, you just knew it wasn’t good. That lump in your throat reappeared and almost felt like choking – and you had to wonder if that was the same thing Dante felt in those days, when all his light was out.
He spent a lifetime without anyone to help him deal with those ghosts, and you did as well – until you found him. You always did your best to bring Dante the gentleness he always desperately needed in his life and never got to have, and you noticed he did the very same, in his own way… Not to repay your actions, but out of the genuine love and care he had in his heart for you.
Because after everything Dante had lived through, after all the fire and blood, his heart always remained loving and good.
Your eyes suddenly filled with a flood that, even if you tried to hold back, couldn’t be contained. He had always been there. During your hardest days, your bleakest of moments, Dante was always there by your side – quietly, gently, unmoving. He was always loud and lacking seriousness, but when you needed a safe place to fall and comfort, Dante was the most sincere, silent and steadfast presence you ever had in your life. He always knew how to read what you needed, and you got to experience a whole side of his personality he didn’t really show others.
You weren’t really finished with your shower. You stepped out, wrapping yourself on the fluffy towels you insisted to spend money on, and walked to the bedroom, wondering if you would find him.
And of course you did: Dante said he would be there if you needed anything, so he would be there. Standing near the chair where you two left your daily clothes and pajamas, changing his shirt for the one he wore to sleep – you caught a glimpse of his back, littered with new and old scars.
“Hey…!” His voice was a little more casual, lighthearted as always; but as he turned around – you were sure Dante had sensed you walking out of the bathroom as soon as you stepped through the door – he found your eyes marinated with tears, while you approached with hair still wet and wrapped around your towel. His demeanor changed in the blink of an eye, and there he was: quiet, serious Dante; ready to hold you whenever you needed him to. “Hey. What’s wrong, y/n?”
You didn’t answer – at least, not with words. You just closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his chest. Dante had to admit he was shocked, but that feeling lasted for a fraction of a second; soon his arms were tightly holding you, one of his steady hands resting on your head.
You took a deep breath, still trying not to cry. It always felt so warm, though, the way Dante held you: he knew the extent of his strength, and he always knew how to wrap his arms around you in a way that didn’t suffocate, but was enough to make you feel safe.
“Today sucked, big guy…” Your voice was slightly muffled by how you kept your head almost hidden in his chest, sulking in a way it seemed you would melt away on the floor. Dante couldn’t stop the slight, peaceful smile that graced his lips: the mask broke, and you were finally there. That was all he ever wanted, you; no matter the mood.
“I’ve a feelin’ it wasn’t just today…” He had that voice on. That quiet tone, the one that he always wore when things were serious and your hearts were the ones speaking. It gave you the confidence to talk about it, always did.
Dante had an expertise in dealing with emotionally hindered people, after all.
“This whole job… It was bad.” You sighed, still hiding your face in his chest. Dante kept his hand on your hair, slightly caressing you – he had to point out to himself, how precious you looked when you decided to let your guard down and trust him with your heart. “I… I don’t even know what I’m feeling, but… I’m… Empty. Like it drained me of everything good I have inside, and there’s nothing left.”
“Hey…” Now it was Dante’s turn to frown: you were both used to seeing the worst the world had to offer, so he had to wonder what the hell was that job about. As he called, you finally risked a look up, meeting his sky-blue eyes: indeed, yours were empty, even if a few tears rolled down your face. Almost as if your body was involuntarily weeping, since no emotion could be read in your expression. “Hell would need its absolute worse to take the good out of ya. And even then, I’ll be here, so that’s somethin’ that’ll never happen, pretty eyes.”
You furrowed your brows slightly, with a small smile appearing on your lips – your feelings scattered everywhere, you didn’t know if you wanted to cry, argue, smile or hug him even tighter. Dante’s hand that caressed your hair went down, his fingers wiping away the few tears on your face.
And you had to close your eyes, almost as if it hurt. All that kindness, the soft touch from his rough, calloused hands… You were not used to that, as much as he wasn’t used to receiving it – but Dante experienced it with you. And now, he was making sure you would have that as well.
It did hurt. In the best of ways.
“Wanna talk about it…?”
“It wasn’t demons this time.” Your answer was a whisper, your eyes still closed. Once again, you rested your head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart – somehow, that always seemed to calm you down and ground you; opening your eyes again, you wrapped your arms tighter around him. “There were demons involved, but they were just pawns… We split so Lady and Trish could find the missing children and teens, I told them I could take the demons responsible for the kidnappings and killings. ‘Cause I knew they wouldn’t be demons.”
It finally downed on Dante what you were talking about – and that’s why he held you a little tighter against his chest. Humans could be as evil as demons, and he had killed plenty of those who filled those shoes: Dante would spare goodhearted demons, but he would kill evil spirited, rotten humans, who were nothing more than a low-tier demon in his view.
But he also knew that kind of thing was easier to talk about than to do. Killing demons was one thing, killing humans was completely different. It helped to see them as he saw: low-tier demons, keeping a weak, human form because they were so pathetic they couldn’t even be born in a more powerful vessel. Just a sniveling little creature, whining about becoming more powerful and corrupting everything good in their way – a little weed, needing to be cut off. And that’s what he usually did.
The first time he did so, though, it wasn’t that easy. His mindset came with the years, and it helped him to do his job and uphold his morals. With time, Dante’s heart grew colder and harsher towards those who had everything and still chose to follow a path of absolute rot and filth – maybe the one who started that was Arkham, but Dante never really gave that pathetic man too much thought. He didn’t deserve it.
“I didn’t want it to be humans, calling the shots on something so horrific. I had my suspicions, but I wanted to be wrong.” You closed your eyes again, taking a deep breath. “We’d probably have a discussion if it’d be better to turn them over to Lady’s contacts in the police office, so I didn’t tell the ladies. I found them, and they’re all dead. It’s over. They…”
You stopped yourself for a while, the words caught up at the tip of your tongue. Luckily, Dante could always meet you halfway.
“They were demons.”
And, somehow, hearing him say that cleared a thorn that seemed to be lodged deep inside your heart ever since you left the Devil May Cry that morning.
“They were demons.” You whispered back, almost as if finally accepting those words. “I… Don’t know what to feel. I should be horrified, and I don’t want to become a monster, but… They deserved it. All of them. Deserved it. And…” You frowned once again, now a little more confident to voluntarily look up at him – meeting Dante’s gentle gaze for such a harrowing subject. “Maybe all my feelings are so contradictory they are canceling each other and I’m feeling nothing but extreme exhaustion.”
“Ya know, this job… It doesn’t get just your body tired, but sometimes your soul. You gotta find yours again.” Dante once more caressed your face, only to turn his fingers back to some rogue strands of wet hair on your head. “Kinda like those things sucked out your energy, and you need to get it back. You’re not a monster, y/n. You’re human. And humans get their souls exhausted too.”
“Part of me wished I hadn’t seen any of that…” You let out a tired sigh, now resting your forehead on his chest. “The other part of me is glad it was me to be there. That I got to be the one to do this job.”
“Yeah… I know what you mean.”
For a moment, you both just stayed quiet: Dante still caressing your wet hair, and you grounding with the rhythm of his heartbeat. You couldn’t really tell how much time had passed – maybe it was a few minutes, maybe it was a few hours – the only thing you were sure was that you didn’t want him to let go. You wanted to stay in his arms forever, quietly recharging from all… That.
It felt like you would never have the energy to fight and go by your usual daily activities again – and something in your heart pointed you to a belief that Dante knew exactly how that felt like.
“Tell you what…” And, as much as he wanted to embrace you forever, Dante also knew you would soon catch a cold from standing in the middle of the room like that – no matter how warm he was, he still couldn’t work miracles. “You finish that shower of yours, put on some warm clothes, then meet me in the kitchen, ‘k?”
“In the kitchen…?” You had to raise one brow as you distanced from him – something your heart was strongly opposing to. “You’re not gonna set anything on fire, are you…?”
“Eh, ye of little faith…!” Dante’s heart also opposed to letting you go, but if he didn’t, you two wouldn’t move for a long time – and you deserved to be taken care of, after taking care so much of him throughout the years. “I’ll have you know, I didn’t survive all this time only on pizza.”
“Instant noodles don’t count, big guy.”
And there it was: Dante’s ability to make you laugh even if you were absolutely miserable. With one hand over his chest, he looked at you as if he was thoroughly offended by your words – and you couldn’t help but laugh, even if softly.
“I happen to know how to cook pasta. Will do it for ya someday.” With those words, Dante placed another kiss on your forehead – lingering for a few seconds, not needing to use his words to make it clear how much he cared for you. “Take your time, I’ll be waitin’ for ya. No fire in the kitchen, promise.”
You shook your head slightly. How could you ever say no to that?
*
The smell at the main floor of the shop was sweet, as you finally went downstairs wearing your cozy pajamas and warm, fluffy socks. You could see the moon high in the sky through the windows, heading to the back – where you found Dante patiently stirring something on the stove of the small kitchen.
As soon as you got there, your nose picked up the scent: hot chocolate. That was something Dante didn’t know how to do – he and Nero famously tried to do it once during a particularly cold winter to try to impress you and Kyrie, but it ended with you and her cleaning the stove and trying to salvage the completely charred milk pitcher. The kitchen smelled of burnt chocolate for weeks.
This time, though, it wasn’t like that. Dante seemed very concentrated on his mission of stirring the content in the pitcher, controlling the low heat on the stove so it wouldn’t boil and overflow, but still warm up nicely.
You had to wonder, when did he learn that.
“Now that’s new.” You leaned by the door, resting your head on the door stop while observing him – if Dante turned around, he would be able to see the adoration in your eyes.
“What…?” And his low, quiet voice was back – although laced by the serenity you needed to have your heart calm down a bit. “I’m pretty good at learnin' from observation, ya know.”
Even if Dante’s voice had that edge of softness you needed at the moment, that comment finally made it down on you how much he observed you on a daily basis.
You weren’t really aware of it, but he would always be there, watching as you did the most mundane of things – and not in a controlling way, but with the adoration in those sky-blue eyes of someone who never had that; who thought he would never get to live that. Dante could find beauty in all things that you did: be it organizing the shop, training to refine your fighting skills… Or just preparing some hot chocolate.
He had observed with enough care to learn how you did it, without needing you to explain.
“Why don’t you do it more often, then…?” You tried to keep your voice steady, always avoiding making it clear how much your heart was affected by Dante just being… Dante.
“I like the way you do it, babe.” And meeting you halfway as always, Dante wouldn’t tell how much he enjoyed the way your hand gently stirred the chocolate, how you always seemed to hum a little song while waiting, how your foot mindlessly scratched the back of your ankle so you wouldn’t take your eyes away from the task at hand. How he loved when you did it all for him – just like now he was doing for you.
For a moment, you understood: watching as he mindlessly brushed his hair away from his eyes with his free hand, as he slowly stirred the chocolate, as he quietly waited with a patience that only seemed to be reserved to your eyes. There was a silent beauty in that; of a little moment, that you were certain would be caught in time, forever in your mind.
Maybe that was what eternity was about.
Quietly, you approached your red devil – who noticed you coming, but still kept to his task, as you would always do with him. What he didn’t expect, was for you to wrap your arms around his torso once again, now with your head resting on his back.
Dante couldn’t hold back the smile spreading through his lips, as he held your hands with his free hand – keeping at his mission of preparing you a nice cup of warm hot chocolate.
“Thank you.” Your voice was a whisper, as you closed your eyes and kept listening to his heartbeat. Such a human heartbeat.
“For what, babe? Chocolate isn’t done yet.”
“For always being my home, Dante.”
As you started to softly hum a song both of you knew quite well, Dante squeezed your hands slightly tighter; sky-blue eyes with a forecast of rain.
This time, it didn’t bother him to hear his name from your lips.
Question: Which love language would you say matches your partner's preferred way to show their love?
Kyrie: Acts of Service
Dante's s/o: Quality Time/Physical Touch
Vergil's s/o: Aggression (quality time)
Dante's got two thumbs up for Vergil's s/o answer
*
I'm writing Nemesis and I gotta say, something happens with Vergil and reader sparring/fighting. It's that Vergil and his s/o training together one, this man's love language is fighting. He needs an s/o that matches his freak hahaha
I won't elaborate on all of them or I'll be here a while (and I do know the Love Language thing is mostly pseudoscience, but this thought occurred to me in the shower and I won't laugh like a dumbass alone 🖤)
Summary: The Abyss opening is a rare occurrence. In his youth, Vergil wanted to harness its power, but never thought he would meet his greatest adversary along the way. Years later, the Abyss is once again open and that might call for some rather unlikely alliances.
Age restriction: 18+ - there’s a lot of blood, violence, cursing and all those things people want to forbid younger audiences of seeing. Also, cosmic horror is a thing here. Procceed with caution
Author’s notes: *sighs* we are so back 🖤 I got more chapters ready and I'll keep them coming this time. I'm so happy hahaha anyway, time to meet the rest of the crew here on Nemesis. And Nero's about to gain an honorary guardian angel "parent" ;)
Chapter 9
In that darkness, you could only feel the cold water against your feet and the icy air wrapping around your arms.
You had learned to control those, well, you didn’t really know what they were. Visions? Nightmares? Inner turmoils? All that you really knew about them was: you would always find the broken, hopeless version of yourself – now apathetic, unable even to shed tears, with that hole still in your chest and the glass heart still unable to mend on the floor – and you would always find him – also broken, maimed, chained and with his heart violently torn from his chest, laying in shards near his knees.
Even with that certainty, you still didn’t know what that meant. Were you connected, somehow…? Or did he really affect you that deeply, to appear in hushed conversations between those versions of yourselves, muttering words of survival? Of remaining and not giving up…?
That thought made your blood boil. To think you needed him of all creatures to teach you something about not giving up. You were the one to drag yourself out of your broken city, as he beat you up in combat and left you to die. If it wasn’t for your will, your guardian angel would have never found you and given you a chance to live. And, waking up days after all that, remaining, finding some sense in your life again after all that violence…
That was you. All you. It wasn’t him. It was your will to survive, to drag your dying body somewhere only fate knew where. That was your strength, not his.
It was probably the fact that, even when you trained to be part of the Guard, you had never found someone as good – and as proud – as you. Watching him following through with his way, talking to you as if you were just a piece of annoyance in his route towards his inevitable objective, with complete control and faith in his own skills to defeat anything and everything that came in his way… It was like looking in the mirror.
And you hated it.
That was the most likely reason why he always appeared whenever you had those nightmares. If you were looking at yourself, the version you tried to keep deep down and protected from everyone else you ever met, then he was the mirror you tried to ignore: all the things in your personality you didn’t like – and that you constantly tried to keep on a leash.
It didn’t explain his broken heart and the void in his own chest. Still, it was the best explanation you had, even after all that time.
As you followed the path you knew quite well, you did your best to ignore what was going on to quickly find an exit and wake up, finally away from that awful place.
You halted your feet, though, when you saw the man on the floor: his body crumbling away, as if he was just a distant piece of memory fading from your mind, shackles nowhere to be seen; his face on the water as his eyes remained closed – hands almost like claws, trying to get himself up, but failing miserably from the lack of strength in his now strangely skinnier arms.
You couldn’t help but to stare in shock.
“I… Can’t.” His voice was but a whisper, trembling against the water, body now stopping the fight: he let go, and it seemed like he was going to fade away at any moment; almost as if the crumbling pieces of his body were slowly disappearing into the water, taken by the darkness, to be forgotten by time and eternity.
“You have to.” The apathetic version of yourself suddenly lifted those empty eyes – almost as if outraged by his action. “I got up. You have to.”
“I’m… Not you.” His voice carried a bit of anger in it, something you knew so well, but seemed to lack resolve in the end... Almost like he was letting go of the grudge you held against each other.
That wasn’t right.
That wasn’t right.
He was meant to have a dignified end. In your hands or in a fight with an enemy as brutal as him but not… Like that. Not… Humiliated, fading away in forgetfulness.
“No. You are a demon.” Your other version now had a fire in their voice you hadn’t heard in years. “If I, a human, got up after you beat me… Over, and over, and over again… You have to get up. You have to fight. You were supposed to be stronger, weren’t you….?”
That seemingly struck something inside of him, making the man immediately open his silver eyes – clawed hands back on the cold, dark water, ready to try one more time. With his arms trembling violently, he put an unfathomable effort to raise himself – and with that, you could now see how his body looked like.
His physique paled in comparison to when you met – not that you could see much underneath his layers and layers of carefully kept clothes when you first saw him, but you could see he was so much skinnier than before. To most people, he would probably look normal, but for a trained fighter like he was… You could clearly see he dropped a lot of his previous weight.
But that wasn’t what shocked you the most as his wobbly arms raised him from the floor, while he bared his teeth from the effort – and kept his eyes closed… Almost as if on the verge of tears, something you couldn’t believe he had in him. As he revealed more and more of his body, you saw it: how much he was marked. Covered in scars – scratches, cuts, fang marks, deep bruises from impact – littered with contusions, crying blood from so many wounds, as the very matter of his body crumbled apart; staining the dark water, threatening to wash him away.
You immediately furrowed your brows, holding back a first reaction of covering your mouth with one of your hands. You didn’t understand the nature of those dreams, and you always thought it was more of the Abyss playing with the shadow inside of you – constantly mocking your resolve, baring the weaknesses you tried so hard to cover up and protect – but it did occur to you if there were any parallels with where he was right now, after disappearing for so many years…?
If there was any glimmer of truth in those nightmares you constantly had… What manner of torture had that demon gone through, shackled away from the world during all that time?!
You thought, maybe, he was dead. Maybe he found a match even better than you – which, though deeply stinging your pride, was a reality you could learn to live with.
But… Torture? That much torture…? Enough to break, both physically and mentally, the creature with the strongest will and power you had ever met?
A shiver went down your spine like a finger of ice. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what he went through – and you didn’t know if the hollowness inside your chest was regret, sorrow or anger.
“You fight.” Your now not-so-apathetic version still stared at him with a certain spark in your eyes – and you could see that same fire mirrored in his silvery ice stare, now that he managed to raise himself to his knees. “Whatever it takes. You fight.”
“Whatever… It takes.” He muttered in a growl, now trying to get himself to his feet.
Suddenly, you were being pulled forward, all the air punched out of your lungs as a vortex took you through time and reality – and you found yourself tossed in your bed, at the Hospital, barely able to breathe.
It had been so long. The city was quiet outside and the Abyss hadn’t opened in a couple of years, but there was something. You couldn’t quite tell what it was, but something was different. Somehow, you knew it would only unravel itself to you on the next day – and the only thing you could do now was to sleep.
You only wished you had your blue shawl to calm you down that night – but it still remained at that Library, where you made an offering so many years ago to access the knowledge you needed to write your Codex Abyssae.
Apparently, it was going to be the work of a lifetime.
*
As you drove your motorcycle to the Devil May Cry shop, you kept thinking about that dream. That was the last time you saw that devil: after that, you got a call from Lady letting you know she was on her way to Red Grave City alongside Trish and Dante – they figured they’d be able to get the job done, but Nero… Well, Nero had his arm torn off by a random demon who invaded his garage and now was out for blood. And that’s where you stepped in: maybe you could hop on Nico’s van and make sure the kid didn’t do anything stupid…?
Hop on you did, Nero knowing quite well Dante had called you to keep an eye on him. The kid was fuming, and you wouldn’t blame him for it.
“What does that old guy think? I can’t handle a fuckin’ job on my own?!”
Nico just stared back at you through the rear-view mirror, since you were on your feet, between her and Nero, expertly keeping yourself stable by holding on the back of their seats.
It was a rather impressing feat, she’d have to give you that. After all… Hell on wheels was even more hellish that day: Nero was in a notoriously bad mood and, well, it looked like the whole world was falling apart around you.
“Ei, I’m here to help, Nero.” You, though, decided to keep a little calmer. Not that you were calm inside, but Nero was the gasoline at the moment, and he just needed a spark. “Dante will probably have handled everything by the time we get there, I think Lady just called me for… I don’t really know. She does that from time to time, you know.”
“Insurance, maybe….?” V practically appeared by your side like a lurking shadow: you had nothing against the guy, but he could be a little less… Ominous. His sudden appearances had made you jump out of your own skin a couple of times already – probably because he was so quiet, you forgot he was in the back seat. “Apologies.”
His answer was almost a whisper to you, a little too close than you were used to. Then again, you weren’t too used to people being close – and Nico’s van wasn’t exactly the most spacious of places.
“Lady callin’ insurance for a job of hers…?! Ha! That’s cute!” Griffon, on the other hand, was all the noise V didn’t do.
“Eh. Hunters. I think they do get lonely from time to time.” You shrugged, turning to Nero and placing a hand on one of his shoulders. He immediately furrowed his brows, and tried to keep looking cool – you were caring, just like Kyrie was. And that was so… Strange. “I get it, kid. I’d be fuming if Dante sent Trish or Lady, or even you, along my way ‘cause he’s worried I wouldn’t be able to handle a job on my own. Next time I saw him, I’d make sure to punch that pretty little face of his. But everyone has a different way of showing they care.”
“Pretty little face…?” Nero side-eyed you, finding a little smile playing on your ever so mysterious lips as you took your comforting hand off his shoulder. That raging fire he had inside him subsided… Just a little.
“What can I say? Dante’s a handsome bastard.” You crossed your arms, laughing alongside Nico as Nero wrinkled his nose and kept his eyes on the road.
“I wonder if you’d think the same of his brother.” V now had a smart look in his sea-green eyes, sporting an enigmatic smile on his lips. You furrowed your brows.
“As far as I know, they are twins, can’t have fallen too far apart from the tree.” You shrugged. “But you know, all beauty in the world can’t save a rotten heart. From what I heard of Vergil, it wouldn’t be able to change the fact he has a corrupted soul. Almost like Sauron and Melkor, you know…?
“Sauron I know, but who the hell is Melkor…?”
“Silmarillion, Nero.” V answered before you ever could, now avoiding looking at you. Almost as if his eyes couldn’t face yours again. “Sauron’s ‘mentor’. Both beautiful like the stars in the sky, but inside…”
“Their hearts were corrupted like the venomous fangs of Ungoliant.” You completed in a knowledgeable manner, having Nero and Nico exchange looks.
“Who the fuck is Ungoliant?!” As the two asked in unison, you were all about to explode in laughter and bantering – since you and V were the two bookworms and Nico and Nero only knew the superficial stuff – but the virtuosa immediately stopped the van in the middle of the road.
The street was blocked by so many demons, you couldn’t even count. The barrier in the distance, presumably where Dante and the ladies were fighting the ever so mysterious Urizen, could only be reached through that path.
“Can you run them over…?” You lowered your head next to Nico’s, while the gunsmith nervously put another cigarette on her lips.
“I can try, but that’d be a baaaaaaad idea…” She huffed a cloud of smoke, making Nero immediately start coughing. “Van probably wouldn’t handle it. Not that amount of demons.”
“Hmmm. We don’t have time for ‘trying’.”
“Hey…!” Nero got up from his seat as soon as you held your silver sword and opened the van’s door. “What are you doin’…?”
“You get to that thing, I’m gonna open a path for you.” Looking back at him, you winked, having a small smile on your lips. “Don’t worry, Nero. I still wanna punch Dante’s pretty little face. It’ll take me some time, but I’ll meet you there…” You pointed at the barrier covering the skies ahead. “Whatever there is.”
“Be careful.”
It was the last thing you heard from V before jumping off the van that night.
And you did your job well: killed all those damn demons blocking the road so Nico could speed through, taking Nero exactly where he needed to be.
When you found them again, they told you the news: Urizen had Lady and Trish, Dante was punched into oblivion, and, for the first time, the crew was defeated.
To say you and Nero were furious was an understatement: if it wasn’t for V to keep you calm and remind you the best course of action was to regain your strength to defeat Urizen, you probably would have marched in to kick his ass and be transformed into an unthinking servant of the demonic soon to be king just like the ladies.
Frustration was the mildest of feelings stirring in your heart – and you understood the kid, furiously throwing things around and cursing at the very sight of anything and everything that vexed him, just like you did when you were on your training to be part of your city’s Guard.
And when the time came to face Urizen again… The Abyss.
It was your turn to finally lose your cool – and for Nero to step in and be the voice of reason.
“Of ALL the times that gate to the pit could’ve opened…!”
In a matter of fact, it was the very first time Nero saw you fuming. He had seen you angry, yes, but not like that.
“This cannot be a coincidence!” You turned around, pointing at Nero in the garage, eyes burning with pure fire. You indeed looked the part of someone who believed in all the craziest conspiracy theories and was now watching them unfold right before your very eyes. “The dream! It was exactly on the day Urizen kicked our asses! And now the Abyss opening right when we’re ready to take the fight back to him…! It can’t be a coincidence!”
“Dream? What dream…?” You lost Nero on your furious blabbering – and you refused to elaborate.
After all, your dreams were your own.
“It’s been a month, Nero. A month! The Abyss could’ve opened again all this time, but it didn’t!”
“Hey, I know, but yellin’ around ‘bout it doesn’t help!” Nero was shaking his head now, trying to get near you and stop your infuriated pacing around the garage. He wasn’t very successful, though. “How does that thing open anyway? Is it like, one of the Gates of Hell?”
“I don’t know! No one knows!” Now you just threw your arms upwards and let them rest on your waist, staring at Nero as if he wasn’t making any sense. Well, you weren’t making any sense to him. “That thing doesn’t follow any of the rules we know, of Hell, of demons, of anything!”
“You’ve been researchin’ it your whole life, how come you don’t know?”
Nero almost regretted his question when you stared at him as if he was Urizen himself.
He considered stepping back a bit, just to be sure you wouldn’t try to hit him with something.
“I’ve been researching that shit my whole life precisely because no one did it before! There’s so little information, scattered around everywhere, and most of it is in demonic texts and literature you’d only find in Hell.” You barely noticed how you stepped in his direction and Nero stepped back again, ready to find a blanket in the van and throw it over you to calm you down like a vicious wild animal if he had to.
He would never lay a finger on you: Nero was very aware of the fact that he had demonic blood in his veins and, even if you were one of the strongest humans he knew, he could seriously harm you – no matter how good his intentions were.
“I don’t know about you, but I’ve never been in Hell and I don’t intend to go there. I still haven’t concluded if the Abyss is a deeper layer of Hell or another thing in itself, and it showing up doesn’t have a pattern at all – or I’d have picked it up already!” You huffed, stopping your advance and making Nero stop as well. “It destroyed my city, much like Red Grave, and I’m not keen on letting Urizen walk away with that shit! But the Abyss had to give signs of re-opening now, of all times?! And on a neighboring city, even?! What are the odds of that being just an unfortunate coincidence?!”
“Hey, I know a thing or two ‘bout havin’ your city destroyed by power-hungry demons, ‘k? I’m not too keen on lettin’ that bitch walk away either!” As Nero yelled back, it seemed like his words were the blanket both of you needed to calm down and really listen to each other. It finally downed on you that, even if divided by years, your experiences hadn’t been that far apart from each other. “I know you’re angry, alright? I am too! Bitch ripped my arm off and used the Yamato to destroy and kill a whole fuckin’ city, just so he can sit there, bored, killin’ anything that tries to take his sorry ass from that throne! And Dante… He’s gone! I thought that could never happen, but he’s gone! He…”
With that, it was Nero’s turn to huff and rest his hands on his waist, turning away from you – he was too tough to cry, or at least that’s what he wanted you to think. He wasn’t a kid, he was a devil hunter, and he could get that job done. You had to trust him to do that, and he wouldn’t be able to conquer anyone’s respect by crying.
“You’ve known him longer than I have. I’m feelin’ the missin’ spot he left behind, you gotta be feelin’ it too. But if Dante was here, he’d tell you to do your thing and contain the Abyss, and leave Urizen to him.” Nero turned his aquamarine eyes back to you, still glistening a little bit, but now hard with resolve. “You’re the only one in the crew that knows more ‘bout that thing, you’re the one who’s gotta do it. You can leave Urizen to me. I can do it.”
Furrowing your brows, you looked down to your feet, not wanting to keep staring into Nero’s eyes for too long. Something about that stare made you uncomfortable – it reminded you of the moment your city fell, of that silvery gaze that had no mercy, but also held so much resolve… Nero had that same kind of resolve. Differently than Dante’s, that burnt like fire, Nero’s was cold, stark, sharp like a blade.
“I know you can, Nero. I’m not doubting you.” You finally sighed, raising your head again and looking back at the kid – now with his head a little tilted, almost like a confused puppy. That almost made you laugh: Nero had a ruthless sharpness inside of him, but that was almost always immediately balanced by how much of a human heart he also had. “You don’t need me to help you, I know that. I just… I thought Dante didn’t need it too. Lady. Trish. And now, all the crew is gone, and there’s only you. I… I don’t think I can protect you, or that you aren’t strong enough to pull off this job, it’s… I… I don’t want to lose you too, kid. That’s all.” You sighed, now being your turn to look somewhere else instead of Nero’s surprised eyes.
None of you expected so much honesty from your side, but there you were.
“I just have this feeling that, if I’m there, things will go better and you’ll be safe. And what happened to Dante won’t happen to you too, ‘cause I can handle things. I can fight, I can save people. And… Dante isn’t here to judge me, so I can say it: I’d choose to keep fighting by your side and leave a whole city to the Abyss, ‘cause you’re Nero and I know you. And I want to make sure you will be ok.”
For a moment, Nero finally didn’t have words to answer you. He just kept staring, with those aquamarine eyes having waves and waves of different emotions – anger, confusion, love, comfort, joy, sadness, safety. He didn’t know what he was feeling, he just knew it was different, from everything he had ever felt. With Kyrie, he knew love and kindness, but it was a different kind of love. She was his soul, his heart, the light that made him know the right path to follow.
But you…? Ever since he met Dante, he felt supported for the first time, but you seemed like an ever present protector, ready to catch him when he fell, making sure he’d be able to keep on that path his heart lit up for him. He knew he could call and you would listen, you would say the right words for him to steel his heart and his resolve, conquering every challenge along the way.
You were his guardian angel.
“I’m, I…” And, apparently, Nero turned into a blabbering mess whenever his heart was too aware of that. He had to take a deep breath and remind himself to keep his cool – after all, you deserved to be the guardian angel of a badass punk. “I’ll be ok, y/n. The Abyss… It’s like you said, it can’t be a coincidence. This is your life’s work, and there’ll be somethin’ for you there, somethin’ only you can do. I don’t wanna be the one holdin’ you back after all this time.”
“You’re never holding me back, kid.” You had a half smile on your lips, knowing quite well how Dante calling him a dead-weight had affected him.
You were sure Nero would stride inside Hell itself to find Dante, grab him by his shirt and scream ‘WHO’S THE DEAD-WEIGHT NOW?!’ before dragging the man out of there. It’d be poetical, even, but also stupidly dangerous.
“I, hmmm… I can handle Urizen. You should go to the Abyss emergency. Me and Nico… We’ll be fine.”
“You promise?” You had somewhat of a parental look in your eyes, making him almost feel like you were asking him to call you from a friend’s house to let you know he arrived safely.
“Yeah. Promise.” Now Nero had a genuine smile on his lips, some care sprinkled in his soft eyes. “You promise me you gon’ be fine...?”
“Promise, kid. You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.” As you did with all the things you were serious about, you bowed slightly with your head, as if promising over your own heart. “If you need anything…”
“I’ll call, I know, I know… Stop worryin’ a bit!” And now he sounded like a teen who was already tired of hearing their parent asking them to call for the hundredth time, rolling his eyes as he started following you around to gear up.
And that was how he and Nico headed to Red Grave, as you took your motorcycle and rode to the opposite road, ready to stop whatever was going on with the Abyss that time.
And stop it you did. It wasn’t an easy fight, since another Hell Puppeteer came out and, this time, you had to kill it on your own. Once again, there was nothing that denoted the presence of the blue coated demon – as if he had just disappeared into thin air.
You took your time in the city, after the Abyss closed, thinking about that dream you had… The last one you saw him. How broken, completely falling apart he was. Barely able to put himself on his own two feet. Bleeding, scared, with flaky skin drifting into the water – as he was nothing but a memory that would soon fade, remembered only by yourself.
It made a crumbling sting rumble through your heart. He was a demon, yes, but he deserved better. He was an honored adversary, knowledgeable, powerful, strong and cunning… He didn’t deserve to die like that. Crumbling in humiliation and forgotten by time. You felt not only sorrow, but anger… Towards whatever it was that treated him that way.
Not encountering him at the Abyss and fighting to keep him away from it was rather… Empty.
But Nero wasn’t wrong when he said you were the only one that should be there when the Abyss manifested that day: you found, nearby what was once one of the edges of the opening, shards of a broken blade… And what seemed to be a golden fabric.
That fabric, you knew too well, though: it was part of the garments of the Officials of the Guard in your city, especially the High Guard. What that thing was doing there, so many years after your city disappeared from the map, after everything was lost in forgetfulness… You did not know. You kept the broken blades and the fabric; but even now, almost two years after the Qliphoth incident, you didn’t know their source.
And the dreams? They subsided.
The only ones you had were with Urizen, during the month you and Nero kept training to get back to Red Grave. The demon king was always quiet, observing… Bored. As he always was. But the Qliphoth roots would attack, his energy would shoot you like beams and arrows, almost as if heeding you to stay away. Whenever you got too close, it felt like a pair of hands pulled you back, almost as if kicking you out of your own dream.
You deemed it strange – after all, out of everyone in the crew, you were the only one who hadn’t had the chance to fight Urizen; so how could you even know how he looked like? You concluded it was probably something made up by your own mind, from hearing Nero describe the demon during your training.
The only other strange dream you had, differently from the Urizen ones, was with V, out of all people. And that was the very first time you had one of those dreams with someone you actually knew – you didn’t have that sort of connection even with Dante.
“You helped me up once.” You heard his voice in the dark, furrowing your brows as soon as you realized who was speaking. V, the mysterious guy who followed you and Nero around the day Urizen defeated you, was quietly speaking in that cold darkness – icy water under your feet, nothing but void and shadow all around you. “It’s only fair I help you too.”
“You don’t have to.” Your words were cold, still hurt and bitter, almost like a whisper.
“I want to.” And his were warm. Soft, even.
When you finally found yourself, that vision you always wanted to avoid looking at, you had to stop in your tracks for the very first time and figure out the waves of emotions crossing your troubled heart.
You were sitting on the cold floor, a little more comfortably, still staring at the dark water – but, this time, V was sitting next to you: one hand resting on your back, while you were covered by his long leather vest, sheltering you at least a little bit from the biting cold. His sea-green eyes were as soft as his voice and his cane was forgotten far away from him – almost as if he unconsciously let go as he ran towards that image of you.
V…? Out of all people…?
You barely knew him.
As you were washed over by waves of shock and confusion, there was also… Comfort. Warmth. Something that made your chest fill so much, all that water wanted to collapse from your eyes in a sob you didn’t know when you would be able to stop.
What was that about…?
Maybe it was the warmth of his words. Or the care of his touch on your back. Or the kindness in his eyes. It was too much, and your body wasn’t used to that. It was used to pain, cold, harshness and discipline.
But that… Made your heart weep.
“May I…?” His words were quiet, as his free hand reached for the shards on the floor – as the years went by, you were trying to put it together, and it was almost looking like a glass heart again; now in bigger parts, needing to be glued together into a whole and back into your chest… But it felt safer to keep it like that: half-broken and outside; not full and on the inside, as it should be.
It was cold and lonely, an emptiness that could never be fully filled, no matter how much warmth was extended to you… But it was safer. Anything other than that… The thought made you shiver in fear. At least you knew what that felt like – you wouldn’t know how it would be with a mended heart inside a broken chest.
As soon as his hand was close to touching the nearest big shard, your eyes shot up to him – both yours and those of your image; their eyes a lot more scared and vulnerable than you would ever let come through. V’s eyes met your vulnerable ones, still with that disarming softness in them.
“You have to fight. You taught me that.” He now had a kind smile on his lips, extending to his sea-green eyes. “No matter how painful, no matter how harrowing. But…” And he looked down to those half-assembled shards, waiting for your bony hands to get them together again. “You can’t fight without this. There’s so much power in the heart, and only a foolish demon would think otherwise.”
You looked back at your own vulnerable self. You were expecting them to whisk V’s hand away, to bark like a wounded dog and protect that only thing you had left; make him go away without hurting you one more time.
But you did nothing.
You just closed your eyes, quietly allowing him to do something you would never allow anyone to do in a sane mind.
His fingers were so careful, almost as if holding the most precious of jewels. He didn’t treat those shards as fragile, but as a sacred object to be treasured and treated with respect and reverence – and that took all the air out of your chest, as your eyes started to overflow. You looked at yourself in shock, finding the same reaction you were having at the moment – and, at the same time you wanted to yell at him to stop, you didn’t.
The shards came together as a puzzle, gently cradled by his careful hands – and softly placed into your bony, cold fingers when he was done.
“A heart is indeed a heavy burden.” V had a kind smile as he looked back into your eyes with that comforting warmth that was both welcoming and frightening for someone like you. “And you don’t have to carry it in your chest right now – I don’t. And I’m afraid… It is going to take me a long time to learn to carry it. But…” And he placed his warm hand over your cold ones, making you flinch with the touch. That, though, made him smile – even if his eyes carried a certain note of melancholy. “It is never too late to learn. We are strong enough for it. We can fight.”
“Who are you…?” You had your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, while your voice had a hint of offense in it – after all, you met him only once. Who did he think he was to say those words… And to treat you with such kindness? The other version of yourself kept looking down at the mended glass heart and his warm hands in yours, as you whispered those words in the dark.
And, for the first time, he listened.
V immediately turned his head towards you – and you widened your eyes as he did that. The demon you always saw was never able to see you, only the other version of you, and same with Urizen – being the broken one who kept fighting him and getting up, over and over and over again. They never saw you, but V… He heard you. And he looked at you.
Caught like a deer in headlights, it was almost as if you yourself rejected it and didn’t want to be seen – once again kicked from your own dream, waking up in your bed completely breathless.
It was the last time you saw V. Since you were dealing with the Abyss when Nero headed towards Red Grave, you only heard through him, Nico and the ladies what happened - V reunited with Urizen and formed the whole: Vergil, Dante’s notorious twin.
And, to undo what Vergil’s demonic half stupidly did with the Qliphoth, they were now stuck in Hell.
Almost two years after, and you were heading to the shop. Still no sight of Dante – and you would never stop blaming yourself for going to the Abyss instead of helping Nero that day; at least, you would’ve been able to see Dante one last time.
If you never saw him again, if he never came back from Hell… The last job you did together, now years ago, would be the last memory you had of him.
And that bothered your half-mended heart more than you could put into words. Perhaps it would’ve been better if V had left if broken, so you wouldn’t miss Dante that much – or, at least, you would know how to suppress it better.
With a sigh, though, you arrived at the Devil May Cry. The crew was already waiting inside, and you had no idea what they had in store for you.
I just have a thing for these two swapping swords 🖤
It was supposed to be a simple sketch, but as soon as I added the cold blue light, it turned into something else. I really like how it turned out!
I'm replaying all the games and trying to go through all Bloody Palaces, so there will probably be more than enough inspiration to work on more illusts/sketches from the Sparda twins ;)
took almost 3h to beat mission 20 Vergil on DMC 3 recently but haven't lost my sanity yet
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