#dmc imagines

[simple-dorito]

Vergil shows off his power and skills to you on hunts because it’s a mating ritual for demons, only the strongest get the favour of the mate. Send tweet.

[simple-dorito]

Quickly popping out of hiatus to bring about an important thing: Demon head nudges.

Dante -in devil trigger- nudges you with his horned head when he’s needy and wants your attention. Growling when he doesn’t get it, which ends up with him pawing at you.

Vergil nudges you when he senses danger, he wants you out of the way, it’s a protective thing for him and he doesn’t want you getting in the cross fires. He’s strong enough to protect you but trauma is trauma. He’d growl low when you don’t heed his warning, so he pushes you away with his wing or picks you up by his tail and moves you elsewhere. Please listen to the big blue demon he’s trying to keep you alive. Thanks.

Nero nudges you when he worries that you overwhelm yourself with worrying about him, so he nudges you to let you know he okay, that he’s fine and not nearly as hurt as your brain makes it out to be. He purrs against your chest in reassurance, his wings rub against your back soothingly and he’s holding your hand by the pinky.

[simple-dorito]

Can I ask for a DMC5 request where Reader is finding elaborate hiding spots for their favorite snacks trying to hide them from Dante and Vergil only for it to fail every time I crave the goofiness and complete shenanigans that could happen in this scenario

'uh,' Nero steadies the ladder, looking up at you as you shove a bag of chocolates, brownies and blue gummy sharks onto the highest shelf within the makeshift library made for Vergil. 'You sure this will work? my dad and uncle have heightend sense of smell, they'll sniff it out like bloodhounds, even i can smell it from here.' you glare down at him as you descended the ladder, causing him to back away as you lean in towards him until you were a breaths width away.

'your uncle and father have made it very personal, getting in between me and my sweet treats.' you tell Nero, feeling very territorial over your secret stash, sick and tired of finding it empty whenever you were in need of some sugar without feeling guilty afterwards, and even then those days were rare in and of themselves. 'this is war Nero, war, now are on their side or mine?' Nero blinks at you before sighing upon seeing how serious you were being over a couple bars of chocolates, brownies and gummies. he could easily replace whatever his father and uncle had eaten but you were rather perculiar of what should be allowed in your snack stash, so he leaves it to you to replenish it instead.

'yours if it means you stop dragging me from room to room, asking me where it was most likely for Dante and Vergil to be given easy access to your stash.' he grumbles as he backs away from you, watching as you eyed the shelf through furrowed brows before making a acceptable noise, most likely not listening to him...again. 'i'd like to see those demonic sons of bitches try.' you muttered, proud as a peacock as you left the room, Nero trailing off after you, knowing just how this is bound to go.

'ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! you screeched not even ten mintues later to check on your stash, only to see Vergil using his devil trigger to fly up to the high shelf, move aside some books and grab the stash of treats, though not before sneaking a gummy or two into his mouth as he notcied your presense as though intentionally pissing you off. 'I HIDE THEM FROM YOU FUCKS FOR THIS EXACT REASON!' you bellowed yet Vergil remained unphased.

'hiding them exactly where i seek solace from Dante isn't your brightest idea.' he tells you point blank, putting another gummy into his mouth, lips turning into a missable smirk, pissing you off even more in the process as you flip him off as you walked out of the room, muttering under your breath about how petty he was to use his devil trigger just to grab a bag of snacks. 'you made it petty when you stole Yamato and Rebellion the first time we stole your stash.' Vergil replied, his eyes flashing playfully as you groan.

'made it petty my ass.' you say to yourself as you locked the metal box Nico made you for your snack stash, punching in the code you made up on the spot before shoving the box into the back of a teddy bear before sloppily stiching the back up, setting the bear onto your bed as you stood up. Nero didn't know why he being dragged again into this, nor understood why Nico made a metal box with a code lock, he just wanted to go home to kyrie really but you didn't feel it was far to wage war agaisnt his uncle and father alone. so he and Nico were stuck being your comrades, whereas Trish and Lady were on a mission, a girls night as Dante had put it the day they left.

'(name)-'

'shut!' you pointed at him. 'Up!' Was all you said and Nero had no choice but to comply, knowing that whatever he said was only going to infuriate you even further. All he wanted to say was that even a code locked metal box wouldn’t stop them from getting the sweets, being half devil comes with many perks that he could spend all day listing to you. However he learned that sometimes it’s better to shut up and watch from afar as Devil may cry burns.

Not even five minutes after you heard a crash from upstairs, locked eyes with Vergil across from you, and rushed up the stairs to your room in time to see Dante drop the metal box wouldn’t-the code lock ripped completely off- and start eating the bars of chocolate, cheeks full of the melting goodness as he looks at you and his brother in the doorway. ‘It wasn’t me.’ He says immediately after seeing your expression.

‘Wasn’t me my ass you devil fuck!’ You shouted back at him as you snatched the snack bag away from him, munching on a brownie, as you addressed both brothers while you still had them. ‘Why don’t you guys just ask me to share my snacks? Or get you both some instead since you both broke as shit.’ You said the last bit under your breathe but suspected that the pair had heard you regardless, yet your snacks were on the line here and you honestly didn’t care about what the snack stealers had to say in their own defence, you weren’t stuck in hell for most of your adult life, nor stuck running a business where you barely saw the money from missions since it was sent off to deal with debts.

That wasn’t your problem but lately it feels like it was.

Dante and Vergil looked to one another before saying. ‘It was just there.’ As though it was the most reasonable response to your question.

You sighed, having had enough of hiding your snacks if they were only going to get stolen by one or both of the brothers. You remembered hiding it on the roof of the building once, only to see through a pair of binoculars Dante sitting on Vergil’s shoulders as they worked together to steal the bag of treats, only to fight over who got how many sweets for the amount they contributed to the hunt, as if you weren’t there ready to smack them in the back of their heads. Vergil and Dante are both smart men but when they worked together they were truly dumb as a pair of empusas. You don’t talk about how you hide it in Vergil’s and Dante’s coat pockets once…the building was almost destroyed when the brothers accused of each other of stealing from the other. Who’d knew devils were so protective of their hordes….

Shit like this always happens when Lady and Trish leave for missions…

You threw your stash of treats to Dante, who caught them, looking at you baffled. ‘I give up, eat all my chocolate, I don’t care! Not like I wanted some anyways. Tear each other apart, destroy the building. This isn’t my problem anymore.’ You tell them as you walk out of the room, slamming the door shut behind you as you soon realised you had just exiled yourself from your own room the minute you reached the kitchen. For fucksake.

The next day you found two letters, apology letters from the brothers, both were blaming each other for stealing your treats -typical sibling behaviour- but Dante promised to share his pizza with you as compensation and Vergil said he would allow you to hold Yamato for five seconds as his compensation. You chuckled to yourself as you retreated back into your room, walking to a part of the room to lift up a loose floorboard and a rag you purposefully dosed in spray, to reveal several chocolate bars, brownies and more sweets beneath. ‘Works like a charm. One bag of treats was worth the loss.’ You said as you nibbled on a red and blue gummy worm.

[simple-dorito]

Okay but can I request Dante from DMC with the prompt "I'm sad and I demand cuddles"? you can take whatever creative liberties with this one that you want I just want it to be soft and goofy

-✨ anon

You peaked out of the window and saw Dante making his way to the door - covered in demon gore as per usual with the missions hes taken within the past week- and quickly moving into action as you bolted for the sofa within his office, and just in time for the door to open and your beautiful man in red to make his apperence within the doorframe.

'Honey i'm home just don't hug me as i'm not my most appealing.' Dante says as he sets aside rebellion, leaning it against the wall, smiling when he sees you pratically face first on the couch, pouting. He can't help but feel pulled towards you as he kneels down next to the sofa, grabbing one of your hands within his own, 'hello gorgeous. Miss me?’

You groan as you squeezed his hand several times, tugging him and then huffing indignantly when he didn’t budge, only to tug at him harder just for Dante to dig his heels into the ground and prevent you from pulling his gore soaked form on top of you. ‘You don’t love me.’ You muttered, glaring at him from above your blanket, feeling betrayed. Dante couldn’t help but laugh as he leaned in to kiss your forehead, down the slope of your nose, to pressing a final kiss to your lips in hopes of bringing a smile out of you. You frown depended from his attempt to make you ignore what was happening.

‘I so do!’ Dante cries.

‘No you don’t. You won’t come cuddle me when I’ve waited for you for days on end.’ You replied, dramatically tossing an arm over your forehead, peaking at Dante now and then to see if he was still watching you, he was and he was finding your dramatics cute and endearing to know that you were just as worse off without him as he was with you. He isn’t use to being loved so unconditionally, and yet being with you had exposed him to a beautiful life with you that felt too much like a dream to be real sometimes, seriously enough that when you both sleep he had to hold you just that little bit tighter to make sure you were real.

And every time you are with how you’d pepper kisses to his arms and cheeks.

‘I’m sad and I demand cuddles!’ You cried, Dante bringing him out of his thoughts as he blinks at you before looking down at his clothes that’s back to you once more, as if silently telling you to look at the state he’s in and reconsider your demands for cutesy cuddles beneath your adorable cartoon bunny blanket.

‘Sweetheart, I’m not exactly in the best state to give you cuddles without both of us stinking like Demon for a week.’ He tells you as he reaches for your hand again, only for you to playfully slap it away and cross your arms over your chest. ‘Then get changed and come back to me, that is a demand and I’ve been deprived of your touch for long enough! Seriously is it wrong of me to want to cuddle my sexy half devil man?! Is it!’ Dante cups your face and pressing a plethora of kisses against it, causing you to squirm and scrunch it up as your hands rested on the back of his coat, uncaring of the blood you were definitely getting on your hands, sure it’s a little harder to get off then regular blood, but to have Dante close like this it was worth getting a little filthy if it meant being in close proximity to him.

‘I’ll go get changed and give you all the cuddles you could ever want.’ Dante whispered, pressing a final promising kiss against your lips, lingering there to solidify the deal before pulling away, hesitating as he pulls away from you as though it was a fate worse then death to leave his love without his warmth. That and his inner devil was demanding he cuddled with his mate right now, the demon blood would only solidify the bond between the two of you, devil mating was a very, very weird thing…he still remembered how Vergil kept biting his mate to prove that they were his, even silently demanding that they’d bite him in return by pushing his arm in front of their mouth.

However you made the weirdness worth it by playing along with his inner demon from time to time.

‘you better come back and cuddle me.’ You called after him as he makes his way to the stairs, already feeling cold without him close by despite being tightly tucked under a blanket. Dante pauses in his steps to love at you and blows you a kiss.

‘It’d be an insult to leave my lover alone like I have. Be brave for me my love and hang on a minute longer.’ He replied before disappearing upstairs two steps at a time, causing a lot of noise for someone who was only getting changed along the way.

You didn’t have to wait long for Dante to rush back downstairs, he looked relatively clean but there were spots in his hair that he missed that was still crimson with blood, giving you the impression that Dante was rushing himself in order to get back to you. You didn’t say much as you opened your arms to him, bracing yourself as the man practically pounced on you, burying his head into your neck and purring like an overgrown cat as you rubbed your hands up and down his back, feeling the heat radiating off of him. ‘Better?’ Dante asked.

You kiss his temple. ‘Better than I could ever imagine.’

You got a purring sound in response and a feeling of a heavy tail holding onto your waist, keeping you locked in place for the foreseeable future.

[polarisbibliotheque]

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.

[meowgumi10]

Older!Dante giving you a facial in his office but it’s completely open so anyone could walk in at any time

[grimsmorgue]

༉‧₊˚ Welcome to my blog ! ༉‧₊˚

Hi everyone ! My name’s Grim and welcome to my blog 𑣲⋆｡˚

I’m 23 and I love all things resident evil, devil may cry, horror and more so if you ever wanna talk about those things or more please don’t be shy !

I mainly will write for Resident Evil but I am open to other fandoms like Devil May Cry etc.

My inbox is currently closed for requests, but if anyone wants to message me there or privately to just talk its always open !

I will be writing 18+ content so I do humbly request that minors do NOT interact with any of those posts of mine.

Currently, I will NOT write anything dealing with dead dove, r*pe, incest, scat/piss play, etc., and I will respectfully deny any requests I do not feel comfortable writing.

You can now find my masterlist here !

- Grim 𑣲⋆｡˚

[polarisbibliotheque]

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.”

(One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII, by Pablo Neruda)