Recently started running a D&D campaign set in the Lacer world (first time DMing too 💦) and it's been a neat lil excuse to redraw some of my really old ocs I haven't used in years
Meet Devi, Razulia's sister!
Hii, this is my first time doing this but is it alright if you write a short fluffy fanfic of Vergil taking care of sick!Reader? I am currently sick and I'm craving for fluff! You don't have to do this if you don't feel like it btw but if ever so, thank you!!! 🫶🫶
Hii 🫶
I hope you feel better soon, Anon!
Necessary Measures
Vergil x sick!Reader
Warnings: Fluff, hopefully cannon-accurate Vergil
Vergil notices the change in you before you say a word.
Your footsteps are slower. Your breathing shallow. The way you lean against the doorway tells him everything he needs to know.
“I'm fine,” you say.
“You are not,” he replies.
Vergil’s eyes narrow slightly. He crosses the room in three measured steps and his hand presses briefly to your forehead. Heat. Too much.
By the time you manage to crawl into bed, he is already in the kitchen. The clink of ceramic. The low hiss of a kettle. The precise cut of vegetables.
Vergil does not cook often, but when he does, it is done with the same methodical focus he applies to sharpening Yamato. Everything exact. Everything purposeful.
He carries the tray to your room with quiet steps. You are half asleep when he sets it beside you.
“Sit up,” he says.
You try. Your arms tremble and you fall gently back onto your soft pillows.
Vergil exhales. A small sound of annoyance. He sits beside you and slides an arm behind your back, lifting you until you rest against his chest.
He places the cup of tea to your lips.
“Drink.”
You obey, too tired to tease. The tea is bitter.
Next the water. Then the medicine.
Only when you have taken everything does he set the tray aside.
He lowers you gently back to the pillows and adjusts the blankets, tucking them around your shoulders with surprising care. Ensuring no cold air touches you.
“There,” he says. “Adequate.”
Your eyes flutter open just enough to look at him.
“…You’re staying?” you murmur.
Vergil regards you. For a moment, he says nothing.
You turn restlessly, barely awake, mumbling incoherent complaints. Your hand reaches out blindly, searching for something steady.
Vergil watches it.
For a moment, he hesitates.
Then he removes his coat, sets it aside, and slides under the blankets beside you.
He pulls you gently against his chest, one arm secure around your back, the other resting across your shoulders. Not crushing. Not loose. Just enough to keep you grounded.
“You are shaking,” he says quietly. “This will stabilize your temperature.”
You cling to him without thinking, face pressing into his shirt. His heartbeat is steady. Strong. Unwavering.
It calms you instantly.
Vergil does not move after that.
He remains still, a living fortress around you.
You drift in and out of sleep.
Each time you wake, you are still held. Still safe. Still warm.
Once, you whisper against his chest, barely audible.
Rahul Mishra Fall Winter 2026-2027 Haute Couture collection runway presented at Paris Couture Week FW27 (July 6, 2026)
Rahul Mishra launched his own brand in 2008 after graduating in fashion design from Istituto Marangoni in Milan. In 2020, he became the first Indian designer invited to Paris Couture, and since then he has never missed an appointment. This year, the collection titled Devi: The Eternal Muse drew inspiration from millenary history, art and architecture, finding a starting point in the reliefs of Southern Indian sculptures to create garments that transformed models into statues.
