#dante fluff

[hlimidoobee]

Just sayin , this is what netflix dmc fans are missing out

[ponderingmoonlight]

Oh, to be trapped with Dante

Pairing: Dante x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,3k

Synopsis: What's worse than getting trapped with Dante? Getting trapped with a stripping Dante.

Warnings: this is hilarious and fluffy at the same time, I'm still begging for Dante requests so get in my inbox if you have one, hope you like it @veijdana

You’re not sure what sets it off.

Maybe it’s the faulty lock. Maybe the door was always a little off its axes. Maybe the universe just has a sick sense of humour when it comes to you and that guy.

What you do know for sure is this: the door slams shut, there’s a sharp click, and no amount of jiggling the handle is getting you out of this storage room-slash-death trap. No windows, no signal, and the only light is from a flickering overhead bulb that looks like it could give up at any moment.

Perfect.

So much to being the greatest demon hunters of them all.

You turn slowly to Dante, who’s lounging against a metal shelf stacked with boxes labeled “Supplies” like this is nothing. Like he didn’t just help trap you both in a glorified closet with a single bottle of water and a half-eaten protein bar. Like he did something except for watching you struggle with that heavy ass door.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Problem?”

“The door’s locked.”

“I noticed,” he replies, utterly unbothered.

“Dante.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

You cross your arms in front of your chest, barely able to hold it together any longer.

“Please don’t call me that right now.”

“Noted,” he declares, in a tone that means absolutely not noted.

He strolls over, casually tests the door for himself, then shrugs.

“Yeah. We’re stuck.”

“No kidding.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait until someone finds us.”

“Which could be hours. Or days.”

He grins, shameless.

“Even better.”

You sit down hard the cold ground. It creaks threateningly, but you’re too irritated to care. He paces once, twice, then flops down across from you like this is a vacation, arms behind his head, one leg draped over the other ready to sunbathe.

Except this isn’t Miami beach but a mouse trap.

“Are you always this calm when you’re locked in small spaces with people you annoy for fun?” you question innocently.

“Only when it’s you.”

You narrow your eyes, gaze spitting thick venom at him.

“Do you actually enjoy pushing my buttons this much, or is it just some kind of defense mechanism?”

“Little column A, little column B,” he thinks out loud, flashing you a lazy smile.

“But if we’re being honest… you're kind of cute when you’re mad.”

You throw a balled-up wrapper at him. He ducks it easily, still smirking.

The minutes stretch. Then an hour. The silence tries to creep in, but Dante won’t let it. He talks. About nonsense. Old missions, weird dreams, things he overheard once that he probably wasn’t supposed to. You try not to laugh. You really try.

Eventually, you’re sitting on the floor with your back against the wall, legs stretched out, head tilted toward him without meaning to. He’s closer now, somehow. At some point. The distance between you shrunk while you weren’t paying attention.

“I think you like being trapped with me,” he mutters, voice quieter now.

Less teasing, if that’s somehow possible.

“You haven’t told me to shut up in, like, ten whole minutes.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no heat behind it.

“That’s because I’ve accepted my fate. Resistance is clearly useless. And somehow I get the feeling it turns you on even more.”

“Exactly. Might as well enjoy yourself.”

He bumps your knee with his. You don’t move away. No, somehow, this faint touch has a comfort to it, a warmth you haven’t felt for quite some time by now.

The silence now is different. Thicker. Weighted. Like you’re both suddenly aware of how still everything is. How alone. It’s just you and him. You and the walking sex symbol itself Dante.

Your voice comes out softer than you mean it to.

“This is the part where you make some dumb joke about body heat, isn’t it?”

He chuckles, low.

“Tempting. But no. Not yet.”

You glance at him.

“Yet?”

He shrugs.

“I’m giving you a few more hours before I wear down your defenses. I’m not a complete monster.”

You shake your head, lips twitching despite yourself.

Another stretch of silence. Then:

“You ever think about it?” he asks suddenly.

You blink, caught off guard by that strange and unexpected question.

“About what?”

“Us. Like - if this whole ridiculous situation wasn’t so ridiculous. If it was… different.”

Your stomach does something complicated. You turn your head to look at him, your palms starting to get sweaty. Why do you always feel like this when he’s around?

He’s watching you, eyes dark and serious for once. No smirk. No teasing.

“Yeah. Sometimes,” you admit quietly.

A beat.

“I like the idea,” he confesses.

You nod.

“Me too.”

He shifts closer, shoulder brushing yours now, solid and warm and real. When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Still not sharing my blanket, though.”

You snort.

“I’m not cold.”

“Yet.”

You laugh. And this time, you let your head rest against his shoulder. Just a little.

Just enough.

Bonus:

You're curled on one side of the room, using your jacket as a pillow. Dante's a few feet away, stretched out like he owns the floor, arms folded behind his head. The silence has gone companionable, easy. You almost forget where you are.

Until he moves.

You hear the rustle of fabric first. Then the unmistakable sound of a zipper.

You lift your head, every single alarm going off inside your head. No, he isn’t about to strip…Is he?

“What are you doing?”

“Getting ready to sleep,” he remarks like it’s obvious.

Which it isn’t.

At all.

Because his shirt is coming off, and now he’s unbuttoning his pants in the dim light of the room, clearly visible to your accustomed to dark gaze.

“Dante-”

“What?” he interrupts, glancing at you over his shoulder.

“I always sleep naked.”

You sit up straighter, just the thought of seeing him naked, let alone shirtless...

“You are not - you can’t just strip.”

He shrugs, already stepping out of his jeans like this is just another Tuesday with a pizza waiting on his desk for him.

“It helps with thermoregulation. Look it up.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter, turning away.

“You’re the worst.”

“You say that, but you’re not telling me to stop.”

You don’t. You don’t want to. Which is the worst part.

He stretches out again, now under the thin blanket you both agreed to not share (but he’s already claimed half of), bare chest barely hidden in the dark, a picture of shameless comfort.

You try not to look. You try.

He catches you anyway.

“See something you like?”

“See something I want to throw a box at.”

He laughs - low, satisfied, like he just won a game you didn’t know you were playing.

“Relax. It’s not like I’m gonna pounce on you.”

“You better not.”

“Unless you ask nicely.”

You grab your jacket and hurl it at his face. He catches it one-handed, grinning like he’s thriving on your outrage.

“Goodnight, Dante.”

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

You lie back, trying to will your pulse to settle. But you can still hear him breathing across the room, steady and slow, and you swear you feel the heat from him bleeding across the short distance between you.

The night settles heavy. And you're very aware you’re trapped with a half-naked Dante, no door, no escape, and a dangerous lack of personal space.

Sleep is going to be impossible.

And you think he knows it.

“I still feel you staring-“

“Shut the hell up, Dante.”

[halostarisdead]

in case anyone's having a long day here's a reminder from Dante!

[haloisntdead]

THEM WITH PHYSICAL TOUCH (DMC5 x GN! Reader)

WOOOO havent written these in a while, and with this new hyperfixation i HAD to come crawling back, please enjoy these scenarios of out beloved DMC men/woman

Characters: Dante, vergil, lady, trish and nero (DMC5)

word count: 1036

warnings: none! just fluffff! maybe a but suggestive in trish's part??

notes: i really reaallly wanted to add Kyrie but i didnt have the energy so sorry Kyrie simps!

DANTE

sparda’s are touch starved by default

He’s a biggg fan of physical touch, specifically on lazy days. A slow weekend with you two lying in bed until 1PM? The idea is enough to melt a man. If you didn't force him off the bed, that slob would stay all day on top of you

Dante does likes hand holding, but he prefers you grab onto his arm, he feels a lot stronger and he’ll use any excuse to show off his gains

Oh godddd he loves picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. No, your weight and height do not matter, you're like a feather to him

his favorite cuddling positions are spooning (hes the big spoon) and laying on top of you, although that one is less frequent since you can barely breath with how heavy he is 

Hair touching? god yes, he love to see you playing with his hair, rubbing his scalp and even tying his hair into a low ponytail. However, that hair is canonically GREASY, so you started to wash his hair every few days, he was hesitant at first but now the having you gently rub shampoo through his hair is one of the most satisfying things for him, especially after coming home covered in demon gore 

VERGIL

ohh…this is uhm..tricky

ok so at first..he wouldn't be too open about physical touch, not that he’d flat out reject you, just that he'd flinch away when you did something as simple as touching his hand

That all changed over time though, i mean you're still the one who always initiates the touching, and he sometimes pulls away if enough time has passed, but he's trying his best here

like i said previously, all sparda’s are touch starved, and he, as the oldest, has the worst case of this

He's been alone for so so long, make sure to give him all the hugs he missed out on!

Let's talk cuddle positions; he likes it when you're turned towards him, burying your face in his chest as he scoops you up in his arms, he wants to feel protective, keep you safe (honestly i'm like 80% sure he sleeps with the yamato so that’ll be awkward ) 

Does NOT like pda, he doesn't even enjoy public spaces so he's most comfortable to show vulnerability when he's laying in bed with you or while having you on his lap as he reads

He likes forehead kisses (which is good cuz he got a big ahh forehead lmao), they make him a bit bashful, but he really does like them

Lay your head on his shoulder while hes cleaning the yamato and watch him freeze up, although after a few seconds he’ll exhale and pull you closer silently

(i'm trying my best to not overdo it with the shyness but i do feel like he would be really bashful about touch)

LADY

She definitely likes being close to you, but i also don't see her as incredibly cuddly either. However she wants you near her after a long ass day, wether its you hugging her or just being in the room with her

I can see her as someone who always has her arm around her partners shoulder, just so everyone knows you're taken and you're hers (looking at you, dante) 

she also likes hand holding, especially at night time while you two are sleeping, her grip gets a bit tight sometimes tho

 In terms of cuddling, i feel like shes quite a switch between holding you and being held, she can enjoy being the little but loves being the bigger spoon too~

she likes picking you up and putting you over her shoulder like her Kalina Ann, don't underestimate her, the girl is strong

give her a butterfly kiss and watch her turn as red as demon blood~

(i take it back, all these character are touch starved even if they're not a sparda, PLEASE give them love they are traumatized)

TRISH

tbh this one was hard to write

Ok number one, hand kisses. Need i say more? receiving them or giving them, it doesn't matter, she loves them and they never fail to make her smile

loves styling your hair (nails if you don't have hair), also loves testing her makeup on you to check if it looks good (in reality she just wants to touch your pretty face). she also enjoys it when you style her hair too

ok so with cuddles i feel like she does most of the holding. She just enjoys having you feel warm in her embrace 

(between you and me i think she cuddles naked)

Loves playing with your ears, she strokes your earlobe softly and giggles as it reddens in color, how adorable she finds you~

Likes putting on lipstick and COVERING you in kiss marks, you can also do the same, i feel like she would love sharing her lipstick with you

NERO

Ahem, sparda equals…touch starved

but in all seriousness he LOVES physical affection

He enjoys its when you grab onto his arm (the good one please) and i feel like he also loves to show you off in public by side hugging you as you walk

despite his sometimes hot headed nature, he's very very soft spoken with you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear while you two cuddle

speaking of cuddles, he insists on being the big spoon most nights, but you know he secretly doesn't mind having you hold him every once in a while

lives having his head rubbed, which isn't a problem cause i imaging his hair (dmc 5) to be very soft yet rough to the touch

if you two are in the middle of cuddling, theres nothing thats gonna get in the way of that, no letting you go until he falls asleep or until you two have a mission, dont leave his arms just yet, stay with him (unless you have to go to the bathroom or need a glass of water, then by all means, go and come back as soon as possible, but he’ll be waiting for you with his arms crossed)

Thats all folks! hopefull i can make more things like this in the future

[angelltheninth]

I watched the new DMC show, I would love to hear your take on Dante, Lady and Virgil in a relationship for the first time?

I watched it too, I fully expected Dante and Virgil to be hot but I gotta say Lady took me by surprise, I love her so much.

Pairing: Dante, Mary "Lady" Arkham, Virgil x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, kissing, first relationship, co-workers, protectiveness, demon hunting, flirting

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: I hope to Sparda that there's a season 2 because I need to see more Virgil for sure, and definitely more Danlady shipping fuel.

DANTE

Flirts very shamessly and constantly once you get into a relationship with him. Will absolutely use any chance to show off in front of you, gotta get all those looks from you, looks that sent a shiver down his spine. On slower days he enjoys playing video games with you or cuddling on the couch and doing nothing, enjoying some peace and quiet. Has had quick and fleeting relationships before but never a long-term one so sometimes he gets nervous about it. But he doesn't want you to notice so he covers it up by flirting even harder.

LADY

Will try to hide your relationship at first, especially at work. There are many ways it could backfire and get you both in trouble, or become a weakness for others to exploit. But what's even more of a reason is that she wants to have you and your attention all to herself for as long as possible. Banter gets more flirty when you're on demon hunting missions and it's just the two of you. She wakes up earlier so the two of you can have some alone time to kiss and flirt while you get ready for work and only then be more professional.

VIRGIL

Is cold to you even when you start dating. Just because you're his beloved now doesn't mean he will treat you like he has to baby you. Protect yes, but he still expects you to pull your weight with everything you do together. He is very punctual and always remembers any important date, which does actually make you feel special, there aren't many people he would bother to remember in the first place. Not good with flirting or teasing and blushes easily when you're lovey-dovey with him.

[wh0reforoldmen]

Dante Headcannons

AN- I love Dante, and this fixation on DMC better not go any time soon, as I have ideas.

TW: Sexual Assault

Dante always comes to your place, not his. He’s not embarrassed by the fact that he can’t keep the lights on, but he doesn't want you being a subject to the filth he does live in, and a target for demons, so it’s to keep you safe. However, what he is embarrassed about is his lack of ability to cook. He could try and cook pasta, and he’ll burn it to a crisp, so he’ll just watch you do it with a hint of calm in his eyes. It’s the closest thing he’ll get to a normal, domestic life. 

If you ask to come round to his home, he’ll say that things need redoing and it isn’t safe for you and he’s terrible with money and so he hasn’t got round to fixing things. However, he isn’t terrible with money at all, he’s quite good with it actually, but it all goes to rebuilding buildings and covering damages he and demons have caused. Sure, it means having no lights, heating, or plumbing working properly, but he’s willing to take that over people not having a roof over their heads. He gives to people who are less fortunate than him and he loves it, the way that they look at him with so much glee and how many times that they say thank you for his humility, it gives him pride. 

Touch is his love language, he isn’t one for saying the L word, if he could give you gifts, he would shower you with them. He will always try and touch you, if it's either by holding hands, having his hands on your thigh, his arm around your waist, he doesn't care, he just needs that touch for a number of reasons:

He is touch deprived. Dante didn’t know it until you hugged him for a long period of time and he just felt the need for that 24/7. The feeling of warmth that you give, the calming presence of you in his arms is so addicting to him. 

Boobs. He is a boobs man and so if he's a big spoon, expect his hands to come up your shirt and to your breast and give it a little squeeze before keeping it there. He will obviously ask for consent first, because he is a man of consent. He needs it.

Talking about cuddling, he is one warm man. Sure, a lot of men are warm, but Dante? Dante is a walking lava pit. It does wonders in the winter, where you’re shivering and he slides into bed and this massive heat pad is behind you, warming you up. It’s heavenly. Summer, not so much. You wake up drenched in sweat and overheating, and if you’ve felt the British heat, well, you may as well be cooking like a BBQ. It doesn't affect Dante, or so he thought. One time, you put your cold feet on his legs and he was caught off guard with how cold they were, but also with how nice it felt to feel cool for once. It was divine. Now you have a system of if your feet are freezing, you’ll simply place them on Dante and the small chuckle comes out of him is to die for. 

If he’s out on a mission, he will talk off anyones ears about you. Depending on how long you’re dating, he may just start calling you his wife. He reached that level of trust in you and love for you, girlfriend doesn't cut it, he needs you to be his wife. Fuck the legalities to it. If you call him, he will answer no matter what. If he’s in the middle of a fight with a few demons or even a high ranking demon, or even Vergil, he’ll just answer it and fight the demon at the same time. He never misses a call.

Dante is a goofy person, we all know this and everyone has written to it to some extent, however, I rarely see people touch on his vulnerable moments because he does have his moments of vulnerability, however it depends if you’re close to him to express what he’s feeling. If you’re someone like a partner however, it depends how long you have dated and how long you have known him. If you're dating, it will take him months and months to open up to you about his past, not just about his mother and who he is, but his trauma with sex and how he was repeatedly assaulted when he was younger. It takes a lot out of him to talk about it, especially because he’s not told anyone about it, but because you’re his partner, you deserve to know as it will affect aspects of your relationship, like sex. He’s not one of those people who jokes about his trauma, he jokes about everything else but that, it opened old wounds that he doesn't want opening. (It also sucks that not a lot of people know about this. It’s in the novels)

Music is a lot for Dante. He loves it, and so if he finds a song, album or a singer/band, he’ll show you it with a wide smile and look at you to see each and every reaction you have to it. When you’re cooking, he’ll have songs playing in the background, if you’re sleeping, some sort of music is playing, and if you can’t sleep with background music, he has headphones.

[guilty-ff]

𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞

After walking out mid-argument, Dante ends up with Enzo, bad advice, and demon-grade alcohol. The goal? Forget everything. But what good is drinking your feelings away when your body won't even let the alcohol stick?

Pairing: Dante x Fem!Reader

Genre: Oneshot, romance, hurt comfort, mild Angst, Fluff!

Warnings: language, Emotional miscommunication, Mild alcohol use, Mentions of past trauma/abandonment issues

Authors comment: This idea hit me while rewatching the 2007 anime. Dante was drinking and I thought, if he can even get drunk with his regeneration?? Wouldn’t it be fun (and a kinda tragic) seeing Dante all frustrated, trying to get wasted but his demon healing just won’t let him?

It didn't start with a fight.

It started with quiet tension. A half-answer here. A missed call there. The kind of things that build in the background, until one day, something stupid stirring up the tension.

Tonight, it was the dishes.

Not the end of the world, right? Not even a big deal. Just a small, silent irritation. The sink was full. Again. You'd come home late to that same damn pile, untouched, like a monument of Dante's laziness.

"Seriously?" you asked, not even raising your voice at first. "You said you'd clean the kitchen."

Dante, lounging on the couch with his boots up and one arm slung behind his head, barely turned his head. "I will."

"When?"

He yawned. "Eventually."

You stood in the doorway to the kitchen, fists clenched at your sides. "You live here too."

"Yeah," he said, stretching, "and I kill demons for a living. One of us is clearly more exhausted."

That did it.

"Oh, you're exhausted? Try coming home after twelve hours of dealing with people who actually communicate, only to realize I'm dating a guy who thinks emotional labor is a side quest."

He sat up a little at that. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you don't show up, Dante. Not for the little stuff. Not when it matters."

He stood now, slowly, arms crossed, like you'd just challenged him to a duel instead of a conversation. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Physically? Sure. Emotionally? No. I have to dig to get anything out of you. You dodge every serious talk with a joke. You ghost me for hours after missions. You don't answer texts. You act like I should be grateful you're even around."

He narrowed his eyes, jaw tightening. "You think I don't care?"

"I think you're scared to."

Silence.

For a second, the world shrank. There was no sound, only tension in the air. His mouth opened. Then closed.

You took a breath. "You treat this like it's temporary. Like you're just waiting for me to leave. You act like I'm disposable, like everyone else who's hurt you. That's not love, that's defense"

His voice was too quiet when it came. "Everyone leaves."

"And that gives you permission to push me away first?" you snapped. "To be cold and dismissive and act like you don't need anyone?"

His eyes flashed. "I never said I didn't need you."

"Then act like it, Dante!"

He flinched. Not visibly. Not in a way most people would notice. But you knew him. You saw it, in the small drop of his shoulders, in the tight line of his mouth.

He looked at you like you'd touched a bruise he didn't know was still sore.

Then, without a word, he turned and grabbed his coat.

“Don’t,” you said quickly, your anger slipping away. “Don’t walk away. Not again.”

But he was already at the door, and then gone.

He didn’t take his phone, didn’t say a word, didn’t shout, just the soft click of the door as it closed behind him.

And then, silence.

You paced the apartment, every minute ticking louder than the last. You called once. Twice. Ten times. Nothing.

And when he finally walked back through the door two hours later?

He was dragging a crate of alcohol like it was his soul in a box.

Earlier...

Dante sat in Enzo's crusty kitchen, arms crossed, sulking like a kid who'd lost his lunch money.

"I dunno, man," he muttered. "She said I treat her like she's disposable."

Enzo was already halfway through a beer and nodding slowly. "Well, do ya?"

Dante squinted. "No."

"Then it's simple: she's wrong."

"She's not wrong," Dante admitted.

"Oh."

There was a pause.

"Okay," Enzo tried again, rubbing his stubbled chin. "Maybe she's just being... emotional. Women, y'know. Feelings and all."

Dante stared blankly. "You've been divorced three times."

"Exactly. I know things."

Dante dragged a hand down his face. "I shut down. That's the problem. I don't know how to talk about any of it: The nightmares, the constant fear that everything's gonna go to hell again, so I don't."

Enzo blinked.

"Jesus Christ."

Dante laughed bitterly. "I never learned how to let people stay. Mother died. Vergil left. Everyone I ever cared about either died or disappeared. She gets close and it's like... my brain starts screaming. Like she'll vanish if I breathe wrong."

"Alright, alright," Enzo said, waving his beer. "Enough of that. You're spiralin'. That's girl therapy talk."

"It's called trauma, Enzo."

"Whatever. You don't need therapy. You need alcohol."

Dante looked up slowly. "What?"

"Alcohol! Fixes everything. You drink, you talk, or maybe you don't, and then she feels bad for you and bam, makeup sex."

"That's... not how people work."

"Worked for my second wife. For a week."

"You're an emotional hypocrite," Dante muttered.

“Exactly. Look,” Enzo said, searching through his stash like it was some kind of treasure chest. “I’ve got the good stuff. Demon-proof, Hellfire brand. This stuff would probably knock Cerberus out cold.”

Dante barely registered the words. His mind kept going back to the mission, the one he screwed up. He took down Cerberus, got paid, and then… nothing. No text, no call, no follow-up. He promised he wouldn’t do this again, but here he was, pulling the same bullshit.

Enzo, oblivious to the storm rising in Dante’s head, kept on his monologue. “You know what’s crazy? You take down Cerberus like it’s a walk in the park, get a fat paycheck, and still can’t pick up the damn phone? What happened, Dante? You don’t even have the decency to say ‘Hey, I didn’t die fighting a three-headed mutt. I’m fine.’” Enzo scoffed.

Dante’s frustration bubbled over. “I—”

“I know, I know,” Enzo interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s tough, man. That damn Cerberus battle really took it out of you. Big, bad demon, yada yada… but here’s the thing, you still can’t handle texting her? You get all emotional, come back looking like a damn mess, and then ghost her? That’s cold, bro.”

Dante felt a knot tighten in his chest. He wasn’t just mad at Enzo for talking about it like it was some kind of joke. He was mad at himself. He promised his lover, he really did, but once again, he failed. He couldn’t get out of his own way.

Enzo kept going, still not realizing how much he was digging in deeper. “Look, you’re so good at demon slaying, but when it comes to basic human interaction? You’re trash. And I don’t even mean like ‘rookie-level’ trash, I mean pro-level trash. You can take down an ancient demon, but you can’t pick up the phone? Dude, even I managed not to screw things up like this in my old relationships, and I’m a disaster. Like, seriously, I’m the disaster.”

Dante slammed his head against the counter. The guilt was suffocating.

Enzo, not noticing a thing, just kept yapping. “It’s not that hard. You show up at her place, look tragic, say nothing, drink dramatically. That’s the secret. Women love that tortured crap. Hell, I love it, and I’ve been through some shit.” He smirked, clearly thinking he was dropping wisdom. “Why do you think I’m always pulling in these tragic, mysterious vibes? I sell it, man. If I can do it, you can do it.”

Dante groaned, rubbing his face. “This is not helping. That sounds manipulative."”

Enzo didn’t even notice. “You’re telling me it’s manipulative? No, no, no. It’s drama. It’s called drama, son. We’re in the business of devil hunting and trauma bonding. You think any of the girls I’ve been with cared about me picking up the phone? Nah. It’s all about the act.”

Dante looked at the Hellfire bottle in Enzo’s hand, then back at Enzo’s grinning face, and sighed heavily. “I can’t get drunk anymore.”

Enzo raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed by Dante’s crisis. “Not with that attitude."

Dante raised a brow.

"Look," Enzo said, now dragging a wooden crate out like it was treasure. "You show up at her place, looking tragic, say nothing, drink dramatically."

Dante looked at the crate, then at Enzo, then sighed like the broken man he was.

"You're a disaster."

"And you're takin' the box as the next paycheck, so shut up."

Back in the apartment, Dante wordlessly slammed the box on the counter and uncorked a bottle like it owed him money.

You stood at the edge of the living room, arms crossed, watching this demon-slaying idiot fumble with the strongest liquor in the realm.

"Are you... drinking?"

He didn't look up. "Enzo said it would help."

"Oh no."

You stepped closer. "Dante. Tell me you didn't just trauma-dump on Enzo."

He swallowed a third of the bottle and winced. "Kinda."

"You told the greasiest man alive that you're emotionally shut down?"

"Yep."

"And he said drink through it?"

Dante slammed the bottle down. "He said it would either make me cry or pass out. So far it's just making me thirsty."

You deadpan blinked. "You're half-demon. Your liver literally regenerates."

"I KNOW."

You sat down at the table, chin in your hand. "You thought you could drink away emotional repression?"

He gestured at the second bottle like a broken man. "This one has a skull on it. Maybe it'll work."

"You're pathetic."

"I'm trying," he muttered.

"By what? Hiding from the consequences of emotional negligence?"

"I don't know how to do this," he said, shoulders slumped. "I know how to kill and destroy things. But I don't know how to stay."

Silence. Just the ticking clock. His hand tightened on the glass.

"I figured... maybe if I just felt something strong enough, I could finally say it."

You blinked at him.

"...So your genius plan was to outdrink your own trauma?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "It made sense at the time."

"You're a disaster," you said flatly, but your voice cracked at the edges, not from anger now, but from relief.

He finally looked at you, eyes tired, haunted, and young in a way that made your chest hurt.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he said, quieter. "I wasn't trying to disappear, I just... I don't know how to do this. When you got mad, it felt like- like it was already over. So I figured if I could just feel something... anything loud enough, maybe the words would follow."

You stared at him, then exhaled a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding.

"That's the dumbest emotional strategy I've ever heard."

He opened his mouth to argue, but you cut him off by stepping in and kissing him. Fast, warm, and full of everything you were still too exhausted to say.

He froze, then breathed out through his nose, leaning into it like something in him had just... let go.

When you pulled back, you raised an eyebrow.

"You still owe me a full conversation, idiot."

He gave a half-smile. "Can I be drunk for it?"

"You are very sober."

"Unfortunately."

He gave the ghost of a grin.

"Honestly? When you started yelling, I flashed back to the one time my old man raised his voice at me."

You narrowed your eyes. "Sparda yelled at you?"

"Once. Real quiet. Real disappointed. Genuinely horrifying." He held up a finger. "But you? You're way scarier. Banshee-level scary."

You tried not to smile. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Wasn't meant to be," he muttered.

"Also," you added, grabbing the bottle and inspecting the label, "this says 'Do Not Consume If Mortal.'"

He groaned. "Enzo's gonna kill me."

"No," you said, placing the bottle on the counter. "I'm gonna kill the both of you."

Later, as he lay half-curled on the couch, shirt half-off, a bottle abandoned at his side, he mumbled just loud enough to betray himself:

"Damn it... Enzo's advice almost worked. Makeup sex counts for emotional healing, right?"

You, brushing your teeth in the next room, spit into the sink and yelled,

"You really are allergic to accountability."

Next morning:

It took exactly one full day before you marched Dante back into Enzo's trashfire excuse for an office.

You didn't knock.

The door flew open hard enough to rattle the coat rack and knock over a stack of demon-hunting magazines from 1998.

Enzo, chewing a meatball like it was his final meal, froze with sauce halfway to his chin.

"Well, well, if it ain't my two favorite lovebirds-"

"You gave him poison in a bottle!" you snapped.

"Technically it's concentrated hellbrew-"

"HE TRIED TO DRINK THROUGH HIS FEELINGS."

Enzo raised his hands in mock innocence. "Whoa, whoa. I didn't tell him to turn into a drunk cowboy in your kitchen. I offered an alternative path to emotional growth. Through liquor."

Dante stood awkwardly behind you, very much regretting his life.

"You," you pointed, turning to him. "You listened to him."

"In my defense," Dante muttered, "he said it was demon-proof and emotionally numbing. I panicked."

You folded your arms. "So your brain went: 'Hmm. I have unresolved abandonment issues... Better drown them in demonic Everclear and hope for the best.'"

He gave a sheepish shrug.

"And it almost worked," he added.

You slapped his arm. "It didn't."

"Okay, but technically we-"

"It didn't."

Enzo was now watching with the same face he made when demon entrails exploded in his car: morbid curiosity and suppressed laughter.

"Look, sweetheart," Enzo said, "not everyone's good at feelings. The kid's got a sword twice his body weight and the emotional range of a wet sponge."

"Hey-!" Dante frowned. "I tried to talk about my issues."

"You tried to mainline whiskey and stare into a mirror."

"Same thing!"

You glared at both of them. "You're not off the hook either," you snapped at Enzo. "He doesn't need alcohol, he needs a therapist."

Enzo scoffed. "I've been a therapist for years."

"You once told Dante to 'punch grief in the face.'"

"And he did! It was very liberating."

You sighed, hard enough to summon storms.

Dante reached up behind his head and mumbled, "Okay, okay. Maybe I'm bad at this."

"No," you said. "You're terrible at this."

"...But I still wanna try."

Your anger melted just a little.

He stepped closer, rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know how to fix everything in here," he said, tapping his chest. "But I don't wanna lose you just because I never learned how to talk."

You held his gaze.

"You're lucky you're hot," you muttered.

He smirked. "Jackpot."

You groaned.

Enzo stood up, wiping his hands on a suspiciously oil-stained towel. "Alright, lovebirds. Get outta my office before you start trauma-bonding on my furniture."

Dante turned to leave, and Enzo pulled him aside at the last second.

"Hey," Enzo whispered, voice oddly serious. "Next time she yells, listen. And don't try to drown it out. You'll screw it up worse."

Dante nodded.

"Also..." Enzo handed him a sealed bottle with a wink. "Save this one for after you make up. You'll thank me."

You grabbed it and dropped it in the nearest trash bin.

"No, he won't."

As the bottle clattered into the trash, Dante groaned into his hands.

“She’s gonna kill me."

[for-ests]

Love Songs on the Radio Dante Sparda x Reader

wc: 1.7k pure fluff. dante comes home from a mission and you make him feel so loved. it’s lowkey criminal with how little dante fics there are!! nero and kyrie appearance at the end<3

The favorite part of Dante’s day was coming home to watch you wander around your shared kitchen. 

He often snuck in without your knowledge, just so he could admire you in your element. Your sweet and soft nature filled the space, which was undoubtedly reflected in your food. Without you, he would still be eating cold pizza every single night. 

Dante was a tough nut to crack, but you were patient. Throughout the months, it had become increasingly difficult to resist your gifts after a long day of patrolling the streets. Devils could eat for days, after all, and you were persistent in making sure he had something to eat.

Some may call the two of you opposites, but you often claimed to be two sides of the same coin, incomplete without the other half. 

Dante liked heavy metal and rock music, while you appreciated jazz and soft, encouraging songs that played on the radio. His jukebox always hummed a peaceful tune when it was just you in the house. 

“It helps me focus, silly.” You would chuckle. “Baking isn’t exactly the same as fighting devils.” 

The playful yet reserved banter between the two of you quickly turned into something more, until it was common to be tangled up in the sheets together.

And soon, it was common for him to expect your presence, to find comfort in your quirks.

The way your hips swayed and the gentle hum that vibrated in your throat complemented the space you now shared with him. But of course, you were the decorator, the planner, and the boss. In those aspects, he was just along for the ride.

And Dante wouldn’t have it any other way. Not when he was blessed to come home to you. A beautiful, strong, and talented woman. 

A woman who had saved him all those years ago. When everyone else turned and ran away in fear, you mustered up the courage to race through the blood-soaked street to pull his injured self into an abandoned building. 

Just because you were soft did not mean you were weak. Putting up with Dante was a challenge in itself, a man who’d grown used to being alone, to relying on nobody but himself. To the Son of Sparda, you were everything and more. A breath of fresh air, the smell of fresh flowers, a caress of heaven.

“Hey baby,” he finally greeted, inhaling your scent with a sigh of approval as his arms snaked around your waist. “What you making?” 

“Nero requested Lasanga,” you replied, glancing over your shoulder warmly. The reminder made you chuckle. “Cracked out mom’s recipe. I invited him and Kyrie over for dinner.” 

For a moment, you paused and relished in Dante’s presence. Every moment you could spend with him felt like a blessing, few and far between.

“I hope that’s okay. I wasn’t sure when you’d be back.” 

“I don’t mind,” Dante said as his hands dipped underneath your apron. 

Giggling in response, you melted into him. The two of you stayed like that momentarily, your hands lazily washing soap circles across an almost clean skillet, as his thumbs mimicked those movements across your hips.

Once you were done, you dried your hands off and turned around to face him. “I missed you,” you finally muttered loud enough for him to hear above the running dishwasher and the hymn of the jukebox. 

“I missed you more.” 

Your hands reached up and cupped under his jawline. Innocently, lovingly. “Not possible,” you whispered. “You’re the one who leaves me here all by myself.” 

There was a tease in your tone. You knew you could go on further, but decided to relent, knowing that Dante was tired. It was in how he gripped you, how desperate he was just to relax in your presence. 

“Babeee,” Dante grumbled, nipping at your earlobe to allure you further. “If it were up to me…”

He didn’t have to finish. You understood. It didn’t matter if anyone else did. The two of you just made it work, even if others would consider it unconventional.

“Get off me and let me finish cooking,” you chided, shrugging against him but not harshly; it was playful. 

Strangers would call this place dingy, but to you, it was comfortable, used, and appreciated. It was a place where everyone you knew could relax and seek solace. Multitudes of people came and went, human and demon alike. But all of them claimed to feel safe. And it wasn’t just from your welcoming nature; Dante’s protection backed it up. A perfect balance, overseen equally by you both. 

“So bossy,” he sighed. 

Yes, you were the master chef, but Dante couldn’t depart without a bit of swagger. Just hearing you laugh one more time would always be his goal. And that was precisely what he did as he grasped your hand and twirled you around. Before you could blink, he’d snatched the spatula from your grasp and hip-bumped you away from the stove. 

“Dante!” you scolded, trying to reach for it as he moved farther away, shooing you back.

“Let me do something, sweetness,” he replied softly, and you couldn’t refuse. Not with that tone, not with that glisten of fondness in his eyes.

Arms folded, you gave in. “Fine.” A huff left your lips. Yet you trusted him, letting him oversee as you took a moment to gather yourself.

A minute passed as he saturated the meat. The aroma wafted throughout the apartment. You watched him, admittedly closely, just in case. But even if he did mess it up, it didn’t matter; he was there, and he was yours.

You appreciated that Dante let you lead and thrive the way you were meant to, not only for his benefit but also for yours. He was out there constantly protecting you and your peace. The least you could do for him was offer a warm meal and bed. 

Once more comfortable, you mimicked his previous actions and let your hands slide around his waist, humming in relief that his jacket had been shrugged off. You could feel his muscles beneath his shirt, and he responded desperately to your gentle massage.

Dante knew that you were inadvertently waiting for your command back. He wanted to assist you as best he could, and waited until he felt that familiar tug on his clothing before he relented.

“Work your magic,” he chuckled, returning the spatula to your grasp. There was no way he could replicate such a divine recipe. 

Little did he know that his presence motivated you to create something better. 

The night drew later, and you finally shoved the lasagna into the oven as you let your husband spin you around in circles to love songs on the radio. You sang them confidently to him, letting his hands grip your waist and pull off your apron. 

Sweet nothings into the night, with promises that you would cherish forever. 

“Smells amazing,” Dante whispered, still tugging at your hips, but not too much, waiting until the hot dish was safely placed back onto the stove to cool. And once your mittens came off, he spun you back around into another circle. 

An angel, you were. Not just your looks, but your personality, which shone through the darkness that was your reality. A lighthouse, a beacon to a sailor with no more hope of reaching land. A starving man who had finally been granted a bite to eat. A lifelong devotion. 

And Dante was your protector, a savior to many. The only man who could make your heart sing with uncontrollable laughter, while also sending you into an unmatchable bliss once the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. A brave soldier who sacrificed his own well-being just to make sure you were safe. From his gaze alone, you often felt like a princess fawning over her knight with a shining sword.

The two of you often got lost in your own little world. Which was exactly what Nero could see happening as he pushed the front door open. Neither of you noticed his arrival.

In the past, he had often wondered what it was that you saw in Dante. But in moments like this, it was clear. He treated you so delicately despite his power, like you were the only thing that mattered to him. 

You gave him purpose. You made him feel more human.

It was similar to how Nero viewed Kyrie. Both of you seemed like a dream far above the worthiness of what a half-breed could provide. But neither you nor Kyrie cared. To Nero, it was encouraging to see another woman unafraid and unbashfully in love with his uncle. If the two of you could make it, there was hope for him and his lover, too.

Your head rested comfortably on Dante’s shoulder, while his fingers lazily twirled through your locks. Swaying to a jazz song he couldn’t comprehend, it was so peaceful he was almost mesmerized. And for once, Nero couldn’t help but smile. 

Would Kyrie appreciate a moment like this? She often cooked for him too…

“Dante!” you exclaimed with a chuckle, as you often did. The way you said his name was unlike any other, filled with such enthusiasm and admiration. It echoed throughout time and space. Not just in that moment, but the entirety. 

It was so sweet, as if you were the angel to his devil. A feeling that resonated deep within Nero.

“Why are you waiting here, Nero? Is the door locked?” Kyrie whispered, resting her hand on his shoulder, trying to peek inside.

He moved slightly so she could see. “Didn’t want to interrupt them just yet.”

She gasped, bringing one hand to her mouth to stifle the noise. “How cute,” Kyrie cooed.

“It’s whatever,” he sighed, refraining from rolling his eyes. One of the things he loved about Kyrie was her romantic nature.

She poked him. “I know you’re a softie at heart.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nero shrugged, feeling himself beginning to blush before he cleared his throat. “We’re here, you two!” he called, watching you and Dante turn to him as he led Kyrie into the kitchen, intertwining his hand with hers.  

You swooned immediately. “Welcome, Lovebirds!” 

And maybe… Nero could admit it was the best lasagna he’d ever had. And maybe, just maybe, he could eventually realize that you and Dante were just as much in love as he and Kyrie were.

This was something special, something earned. 

If anyone had the pleasure of actually knowing Dante, they would realize that you were the final breeze of his sails in his search for belonging.