helloooo ^^ I've been kinda sick the last few days with a bit of a head cold and was wondering if I could maybe request something with Dante, Vergil, or even Nero taking care of a sick reader? it can be just sweet or can be frisky cuz uhh fun fact your body overproduces white blood cells when sick and yknow what else is made of filtered blood cells? slick (/ v \) absurd but true. whether u answer or not have a lovely day your writing is wonderful~
Pairing: Nero/Reader.
Content/Warnings: Sick!Reader.
Word Count: 1,435.
A/N: thank you for the request! picked nero this time around to be flexible and i actually had a lot of fun writing this, so thank you and i hope you enjoy!
Devil May Cry Masterlist
Putting it mildly… you felt like straight shit.
Firstly, your head continued to pound, pound, pound, so much to the point that any type of light in your face made you groan and whine as you could only shove your face into a pillow to relieve it. Secondly, your nose was so runny and raw where you’d kept it shoved into (lying!) soft tissues, it even hurt to wiggle it an inch as you were forced to breathe through your mouth for the time being while your lips cracked and lungs suffered from all the build-up. And finally, your throat was so rough and aching from your coughing, you felt like you’d already spit up all your lungs somewhere on your bed – which also made your head hurt even worse when you combined it with the rampant sneezing you’d do every six hours that made your throat throb from… God, it had been nothing but sneezing, coughing, and groaning for a good forty-eight hours, as it practically felt like you were all but on your damn death bed.
So yeah, it was suffice to say you were pretty fucking sick, and, even then, it just felt like some measly head cold amped up to eleven. So measly you were all but cocooned into your many covers (courtesy of your boyfriend’s Mother Hen attitude the moment you started to cough), stacking up empty tissue boxes next to your bed as you continued to use them one by one, and then quite a few cold medicine bottles began to overtake your nightstand as the two days progressed as you all but confined to your bedroom in, ‘Maximum Quarantine’ (or whatever the Hell Nero was calling it) and stuck watching shows that your head hurt too much to even focus on. And even thinking about it made you groan, turning over onto your back as you stared upwards to the ceiling in hopes your ‘gallant hero’ came bursting through the door with the remedy…
And the remedy being –
“Hey, I got your soup – Chicken Noodle, just like you asked.”
A hum vibrated your throat at the familiar voice, watching Nero slide through the bedroom door with a sigh as he removed his hood from his head and shook his silver hair free of rainwater – away from you at least too. Drowsily you watched as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to you, placing the bowl down on your nightstand as he sighed and scratched the back of his head, “Started raining like Hell and I had to fly here to make sure it stayed warm…”
Warmth spread throughout your chest at the words, and when you smiled up at him you wished you could’ve laughed as his ears tinged red and he looked away in embarrassment. “You’re the best.” And you meant that.
Nero’s eyelashes fluttered at the praise, then you watched him slightly grin as he rose one eyebrow at you before pointing at the bowl, “Need me to feed you?”
“Absolutely not.” If rolling your eyes didn’t hurt your head so bad, you would’ve done it at the tease.
He laughed before he raised his hands in surrender, “Alright, alright,” he moved to slip his hands underneath your back, helping you sit up as he propped one of the pillows up behind you so that you didn’t slink back into the mattress. Once you were situated he handed you the bowl with a towel placed underneath to not burn your hands, then tapped your forehead affectionately with the same grin, “But I’m gonna run you that bath still. You kinda need it.”
Yeah, there was no secret to how ragged and nasty you might’ve looked, but he didn’t have to rub it in. You picked up the spoon as you blew on soup within it before you sighed, “Gee thanks.”
“Anytime.” A wink was thrown towards you before he moved to your ensuite bathroom, the sound of the bathtub’s faucet running making your ankles roll as you decided to eat as quickly as you could if it meant getting Nero back to your side.
You’d been freezing since he left for your soup, Nero’s body heat something you cherished in the chill of the Winter and Summer since he liked to blast the air conditioning at sixty-five due to his unnatural body temperature, and the thought of a hot bath sent chills down your body. It’d been since you’d gotten sick since you’d taken one or a shower as well, not having any motivation or strength in your body to so as you were practically confined to the bed, and if Nero was willing to drop you into one… Well, you weren’t complaining.
“Done already?” Nero’s voice made you refocus as you zoned out on the T.V. again, your soup gone as he took it from you and readied his arms to pick you up.
“Mm,” you hummed your confirmation, sighing as he lifted you without any restraint into his arms as if you were a bride, and letting you rest your throbbing head onto his chest as your clogged nostrils were able to pick up the scent of your laundry detergent on his shirt. Nero also smelled faintly of rain and oakmoss, a sign he’d been outside but all the more soothing for your head, and you nuzzled your cheek into his chest as he carried you to the bathroom, “You don’t have to take care of me like this, y’know.”
A rumble in his chest met your ear, and he tightened his hold on you, “Isn’t that part of the job as a boyfriend? ‘In Sickness and In Health’?”
A wet scoff left you, your face burning from more than your illness as you pinched his shirt lightly, “That’s Marriage Vows, Nero.”
Nero snorted before his lips skimmed over the top of your head, “Whatever, I didn’t listen much during Sunday Service.” Nothing else was said as he sat you onto the sink’s counter, helping you peel off your pajamas until you were nude and in his arms again as he let you dip your toes into the bathwater to make sure the temperature was hot enough to suit your needs. You nodded to him your consent, then so gently and so slowly Nero lowered you down into the tub until you were submerged up to your shoulders, watching you sigh as you scooted lower into the scalding water. “You good?” he asked after a moment, crossing his arms atop the rim of the tub as he lowered his chin to set there.
You couldn’t but sigh again, warm and cozy in the water as you watched Nero dip a finger in experimentally, “Mhm.”
“Need a sponge bath?”
Flicking water at him, a laugh mixed with a wet cough left you as he ducked out of the way and jogged towards the door to give you your privacy, his own smile on his lips. “Get out before I sneeze on you again!”
Some time later he was back (and not his first time either… he’d been periodically checking in on you as you bathed), and then you were wrapped up in a big, fluffy towel as he carried you back to the bedroom – to which he had cleaned while you bathed. He left you to it as you had enough energy to dress yourself, snatching one of his shirts and your own pajama pants before you crawled back into bed (with clean sheets and covers!) and waited on Nero to finish his shower. Thankfully he wasn’t long for your freezing and longing body, crawling in next to you as you immediately rolled over to stick your face into his neck free of worrying he’d get your illness as well – a perk to dating a quarter-demon since he couldn’t get sick like you could. Nero sighed as his arm curled around you, his hold tightening on you before a hand skimmed over the side of your cheek.
“You look better already…” he mused, tucking a forefinger under your chin before teasingly squeezing your cheeks together. You mumbled your whine, fingers fisting in his shirt as your cheeks burned from his closeness, and then you knew he was leaning down for a kiss. A kiss you really wanted after two days of sickness, but you could feel it coming on before you could even warn him.
“Wait, Nero, I have to – Achoo!”
The six hours were up, and you sneezed a few more times afterwards.
“…”
“...Nero, I’m sorry.”
“No, because we’re both about to get right back in the bathtub.”
Thinking about Vergil and his decision to wear a cloak with the hood pulled all the way up to hide himself...
And how this is likely a comfort mechanism because baby Vergil wasn't wearing a cloak when he was attacked-- that's purely a manifestation of his subconscious that he willingly summons when he first meets V (and is scared of him) and then wills away when V starts talking about Dante protecting him.
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