Hello Dehlia! I happened upon your blog after my sudden re-surfacing obsession with DMC and would like to know what it would be like to have the DMC guys as your bestie ride-or-die bitch?
DMC MEN as your best friend hcns.
Hi sweetheart! Of course, hope you enjoy <3.
Characters: Dante, Vergil, Nero and V
WC: ~3300
My masterlist
Dante Sparda
Your partner in crime. Your worst influence. He is the friend your mom, teachers and the church warned you about.
And despite it all, he is your emergency contact.
The type of friend you can call at 3 a.m. because you are spiralling, and he will always show up.
(Complaining the entire time, obviously.)
"You know I'd fight God for you, but waking me up before breakfast is reeeally pushing it."
Dante forgets important things but remembers the most unnecessary, useless details about you.
Your birthday?
"Isn't it... around spring?"
Your job?
"Something-something with numbers."
Your relationship status? A complete mystery to him.
But he does remember:
Your favourite band from middle school,
Which one of the members was your crush.
Exactly how cringe you were about it.
He has you saved in his phone under a stupid name or an inside joke so obscure it would require a five-hour explanation.
The type of friend who is always — Platonically and shamelessly — flirting with you.
If you know him, you know it's never serious. It's just the way he is programmed.
"Heyyy, hotshot, how ya doin'? Don't you miss me?"
"No."
"Well, fuck you, me neither."
If some guy is bothering you, Dante instantly pretends to be your boyfriend and has way too much fun with it. He commits to the bit like he’s trying to win an Oscar.
It's so over-the-top it makes the other guy uncomfortable, but shame is not a word in Dantes vocabulary.
Now that we are on the topic, I have to clarify how overprotective he is of you. In his own way, obviously.
Like an older brother, he acts nonchalant, and he insists he "Totally doesn't care," but he does. He’s hyper-aware when something feels off, and sometimes that makes him a little overbearing.
In his defence, he lost too many people in his life; he can't afford to lose you, too.
"Text me when you get home, yeah? This ain't Wonderland, and there is a shit ton of demons out there."
Once, it was late at night. And he couldn´t walk you home, so... he just handed you Ebony and called it a day.
"You know how to use a gun?"
"No...?"
"Well, you point at the bad thing, pull the trigger, then hear something drop, and that's about it."
“Dante, I cannot use a gun.”
“Why not?”
“For starters, I don’t know the technique.”
"The general technique is that you gotta try to aim at something that isn't you."
"Well, no shit, but— "
"Alright, gotta go, babe. Bye!"
His methods are a bit insane, but hey! They work. (Kind of)
Dante is genuinely a pretty funny and chill guy. He always tries to cheer you up and lighten the mood. Especially when things are bad.
You can vent to him, and he will listen to you, plainly and unjudgmentally. Just don't expect him to open up in return or receive deeply sensitive, articulate advice.
At best, you get:
"Yeah... that sucks. Wanna get takeout?"
A guy like Dante doesn't open up to people easily. So if you’re his friend, chances are you’ve known each other for a long time, like Trish and Lady.
What's that? You want to meet Trish or Lady? Do not fret! Dante loves to introduce you to everyone in his orbit. He likes his people to know each other; it's like he is subconsciously building a little found family.
Which means you're probably close to, or at the very least, familiar with Trish, Lady, Patty, Morrison, Vergil and Nero.
And yes, you're part of this family whether you asked for it or not.
Dante is the kind of friend with whom you always end up sharing the most outrageous stories, "The Hangover"-level anecdotes.
Waking up in a hotel room you definitely didn't book? Check. ✅
Marrying a stranger in Las Vegas? Check. ✅
Gambling all your money, winning double, then gambling again and losing everything? Check. ✅
Ending up at a police station for a crime you two might have committed, accidentally or not? Check.✅
Even if you are a low-key and responsible person, you always end up in the craziest situations with him. It's like reality collapses into chaos whenever Dante is involved.
The type of guy who always invites you over for takeout. However, you will end up paying every single time.
"Sorry, sugar, this one's on you. But don't worry 'bout it, I'll get it next time."
You both know he won't, but you accept it at this point.
Yes, he owes you money. Even if you are as broke as he is.
Dante has depressive episodes more often than he lets on. You know when they happen: he becomes quieter, more pessimistic, cynical, and he sleeps too much or too little.
Dante, at his worst, is completely avoidant. He won't answer your calls or texts for weeks. Sometimes, because he is on a job, but other times, he is trapped inside his own head.
So occasionally, you're the one who has to show up and drag him out from his misery.
Dante won't ask for help, not openly. But he will ask you to hang out and have a drink at weird hours for no apparent reason.
To sum up, Dante is a complex person; his mind harbours many monsters, guilt, and nightmares, but despite all of this, he is an excellent friend.
The type of guy you can't help but love. Even if he is driving you insane.
Vergil Sparda
Being friends with Vergil is not an easy task. This is not a role for the faint of heart.
Having a thick skin is strongly advised (More on this later)
That said, if you somehow manage to become his friend, congratulations. You are very likely his only best friend for life.
Aside from Dante, of course.
Due to the lack of healthy relationships in his life, Vergil is an intense person with an all-or-nothing mentality.
This manifests in many ways, one of them being his complete inability to process and reciprocate casual kindness like a normal person.
For instance, you can do the bare minimum nice thing to him, and he will either take it completely for granted or malfunction entirely.
"Here you go, Verg."
He stares into space for a solid five seconds.
"If you require any enemies eliminated, you shall inform me."
"I just lent you a book, Vergil."
"I see..."
He is loyal. Not in a normal, friendly way, but in the way a guard dog is loyal. He will defend you in your absence, death-glaring anyone who disrespects you, or intimidating anyone who pushes their luck.
(He would stab them if given the opportunity. Unfortunately for him, Dante now supervises his activities, meaning Vergil is no longer allowed to kill people indiscriminately. This greatly offends him.)
Say what you want about Vergil, but he's a man who gets shit done...in his own way.
"My boss has been bothering me an awful lot lately. He is such a creep."
Vergil opens a portal, disappears, and returns five minutes later.
"He has been dealt with."
"What— what do you mean by that?"
"He has been dealt with."
You don't make any other follow-up questions, and that's for the best.
His version of “hanging out” is peaceful co-existence. He is perfectly content reading beside you while you silently do something else: drawing, crafting, knitting, studying, working, or reading another book.
While conversation is allowed, silence is preferred.
In the same vein, the easiest way to bond with him is to be bookish or interested in poetry.
It's just an infinite pool of conversation topics that do not qualify as tedious small talk to him. (Something that Vergil very openly loathes)
While not a talkative man at all, he is surprisingly eloquent when insulting people. Especially the ones he cares about the most. Cleverly bullying people is his way of showing camaraderie.
So, yes, he roasts you a lot. You'd be surprised at how much you get read by Vergil; he can be reeeally sassy if he chooses to.
"You have a rather simplistic approach to logical thinking."
"It seems competence continues to elude you."
Or in conversation:
"I didn't sleep much last night."
"Evidently."
"I think I handled that well."
"Objectively, no."
"Sometimes I struggle to stay focused."
"I have no doubt."
(I did warn you about the thick skin. Befriending this bastard is not for beginners.)
Thankfully, he tolerates your insults back.
"So, you chose that attire willingly?"
"I refuse to receive fashion advice from a crusty Edwardian man whose last time you washed your coat was before the fall of the Roman Empire."
Judgmental, he has the meanest side-eye known to mankind.
You know you’re his best friend when, after someone does something idiotic, Vergil immediately locks eyes with you across the room and is like:
"Can you believe this moron?"
Most would disagree, but I think he loves gossip.
He will deny this vehemently. He insists he is not nosy, and yet he knows everything.
He is always silently listening to people, and he remembers everything. Therefore, he can't help but know everything about everyone; he wants to act nonchalant and uninterested, but he can't.
"Admit it! You love gossip."
"I do not concern myself with trivial matters."
"Then, how did you know she was cheating on her boyfriend?"
"Please. Even a blind man could see the infidelity."
Or, alternatively:
"Hey, Vergil! Did you hear about—?"
"Yes."
He is not a "mom friend" by any means, but he somehow knows your schedule and responsibilities better than you do.
"Aren't you supposed to be elsewhere?"
"It seems punctuality still remains a challenge for you. You are one hour late for your appointment."
Vergil is a cold, aloof man.
He doesn't sugarcoat, offer empty reassurance or give compliments lightly.
However, he deeply respects discipline, hard work and endurance in the face of adversities. If you feel like you’ve failed or want to give up, he does not dismiss it.
"You endured what most would not."
"You remained in the face of misfortunes. Commendable."
"Do not falter. It will pass. "
Unfortunately, he has a remarkable talent for making concern sound like a threat/ insult.
"You are not use to anyone being feeble, dehydrated and sleepless. Unless you seek failure, correct this."
"You forget yourself. Humans cannot tolerate physical strain as demons do. Take a break, you fool."
"You look pathetic. Have a proper meal. We will speak later."
"Attend to your health. No one else will, and neglect has consequences."
But sometimes — sometimes — he gets it right.
"You will succeed. It is inevitable."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because you cannot escape fate."
"That's... surprisingly sweet of you, Vergil."
"Do not get used to it."
Nero Sparda
Nero is not subtle about his thoughts or feelings. If he likes you, you'd know.
There is very little slow burn in y'all's friendship. If you are an extrovert, you'll link instantly. If you are an introvert, he simply adopts you.
The one emergency contact that is actually competent. He answers the phone immediately, and before you even finish the sentence, he is already grabbing his jacket and keys.
"Hey—"
"What's up?"
"Shit, I'm sorry, Nero, I think I might—"
"I'm on my way."
He is fiercely protective. He believes you have to protect your people with your blood, sweat and tears. And to him, friends are family.
Although this is very earnest and honourable of him, Nero is a man who thinks with his heart first and his brain eventually.
If you are wronged, even if it is not a big deal, he will overreact.
He has a tendency to stand directly in front of you, argue with anyone, and escalate situations at record speed.
Sometimes it helps, because he would absolutely fight god for you.
But sometimes it does not help. Like, at all, he will actually make the situation ten times worse.
Similarly, he will defend you in conversations even when you’re not there.
"No, you don't know them. They are not like that. You know what? Fuck you, you better watch your mouth before talking shit about them."
Also, if someone interrupts you mid-sentence.
"Hey, man. They were talking."
If you have beef with someone, Nero now has beef with them, too. He forgets the details, but remembers the vibe.
"I don't like that person"
"You met them once."
"Yeah. Didn't like them. Vibes were off."
Nero is too honest for his own good.
"You look like shit. No offence."
Or, alternatively, if you're not wearing makeup:
"You good? You look sick and tired."
"I'm fine. I'm just not wearing any makeup."
"Oh— Shit. Sorry. Fuck me, I guess."
Unlike Vergil or Dante, Nero actually tries to be emotionally open. Sure, he is clumsy; he overcorrects, overshares or blurts things out.
The same applies to emotional support. He doesn’t always say the right thing, but he genuinely tries.
Strangely enough, he is excellent at hyping you up, even when it makes absolutely no sense.
"You could totally take them in a fight."
"They are twice my size, Nero."
"Yeah, but you're more... fiesty. Like an angry kitty against a Rottweiler."
Or alternatively, while watching a movie:
“Okay, but like… if the situation were right, you’d have a chance with them"
"With who? Pedro Pascal? Be fucking for real."
"Nah, you'd totally have a shot."
He loves his friends with a passion. He thinks you are way cooler than you actually are, and no amount of logic will convince him otherwise.
You will get dragged into his domestic life. He introduces you to Kyrie and Nico immediately. He doesn’t mind if you stay the night or if you make yourself at home.
Needless to say, you probably get along with them, too.
Nero is that friend who cannot whisper to save his life, nor be subtle.
"Hey, Nero. Be subtle, but behind you is my ex."
"HUH?! WHERE?!" Violently twist his head like the girl from The Exorcist.
He’s the friend who constantly tries to get you out of your comfort zone. He makes you try things you normally wouldn’t, even if you’re shy.
"Okay, but it doesn't matter if it sucks, or if you make an ass of yourself, it'll be a great anecdote later."
"Thanks..."
Also, invites you to places at the last minute and acts surprised when you can't go.
"C'mon, it'll be fun."
"Nero, it's 2 am on a Thursday."
"So...?"
I feel that he loves spontaneous field trips.
“Hey, wanna go somewhere?”
“Where?”
“We’ll figure it out on the way.”
If someone flirts with you badly, Nero physically recoils and makes exaggerated gagging faces behind them.
"Oof, that was a tough watch, man."
Nero is the friend you have all your drunk stories with. Unfortunately, he remembers every single one perfectly. Especially the embarrassing ones.
He has at least 100 unflattering but hilarious photos of you, which he uses exclusively as reaction images in your private chats.
I know I've been nagging about how loyal and how much of a good friend Nero is. Which he is! But truth to be told, he is terrible at keeping secrets.
He will beg you not to tell him anything sensitive because the guilt will eat him alive. Yet, you tell him anyway.
He lasts maybe ten minutes.
Then he sprints to Kyrie.
Luckily for you, Kyrie is a much better confidante.
He is insanely competitive over the dumbest things imaginable, especially games:
Video games, card games, Monopoly, and don't get me started on UNO.
“The fuck you mean I gotta draw twenty-eight cards?! Fuck this stupid game! What color? GREEN?! I don’t have green!”
"What do you mean you don't have green? You have half the deck in your hand!"
"I know! I fucking hate this game..."
Anyway, Nero is by far the most normal of all the Spardas. So, treasure his friendship; he is a golden boy.
V Sparda.
Like Vergil, being friends with V is a slightly surreal experience.
For starters, he is objectively a strange man. I don’t think that needs further elaboration
Second, V comes as a full package deal, because wherever he goes, his familiars are not far behind. You don’t just befriend V; you inherit Shadow, Griffon, and Nightmare as part of the arrangement.
Someone artistic or introspective will likely get along with him best. Similar to Vergil, you get bonus points if you enjoy poetry. He loves to read and talk about books with you.
If V is your best friend, it means he is always there for you.
Physically.
No, like, literally.
I mean it, V has a habit of materialising out of nowhere beside you and scaring the absolute shit out of you.
“Greetings.”
“WHAT THE FUCK — since when have you been there?!”
“Enough. Either way, here I found this book you might enjoy.”
Like a good friend, he does check in with you, but in a very odd way.
He disappears for days, sometimes weeks, then suddenly appears at your door at midnight and asks how you are, like it's the most normal thing to do.
"V? Do you know what time it is? And where have you been?"
"Irrelevant questions." (A pause) "I have been meaning to ask you, how did your job interview go?"
If you’re feeling down, V isn’t the best at traditional reassurance. He tends to stand there awkwardly, clearly wanting to help but unsure how.
He isn’t terrible at emotional support, but he does have a habit of quoting poetry at the worst possible moments.
"Grief is but love enduring..."
"V."
"Apologies."
You and V are a trauma-dump duo. About 75% of your conversations are just venting. He listens without judgment because his threshold for weirdness is nearly nonexistent, so nothing you say fazes him.
While he isn’t always comforting in a conventional sense, he is actually one of the better Spardas to talk to emotionally. He’s not as closed off as Vergil or as avoidant as Dante, and he genuinely has a way with words. (Unlike Nero)
“You do not need to suffer for your endurance to have meaning. Your persistence speaks for itself.”
What’s the antonym of pushy? Unobstrusive? Well, that’s V. He is quiet, respects space, and minds his own business.
He’s the type of friend you can go months without talking to, then pick up right where you left off, as if nothing happened.
Like Vergil, V is unintentionally funny, and unlike Vergil, he’s significantly less intimidating. So, he is just an overall more approachable and entertaining person.
However, he has no concept of conversational momentum. You’ll be mid-rant, and he’ll calmly interrupt with something like:
"This reminds me of a line by Blake."
He is also that one friend who laughs last because he didn’t get the joke in time.
You try to teach him modern slang, and he tries.
"That was... 'Based', was it not?"
That one friend who never knocks and never closes doors behind him. And once you’re close, he borrows your things constantly. Nine times out of ten, you don’t even notice they’re gone.
Most of the time, he returns them before you realise. But sometimes… he forgets.
He doesn't do all of this on purpose; he is a bit absent-minded.
One of your favourite activities with him is watching bad movies and trash TV. He observes closely, analyses deeply, and somehow understands very little.
"This narrative is... ambitious."
V is odd, gentle, present and surprisingly sincere. As your best friend, he turned into a quiet constant in your life. I told you, it is a surreal experience to have him in your life, but it is no less special.
Author's Note
Miss me? (Say yes, please), I closed the request temporarily so I could catch up a bit with them. As soon as I write a few more, I'll open them again. Ideally, sometime in January. I have plenty of requests half-finished because headcanons for Dante and Vergil come easily to me, but I struggle a tad with Nero and V.
Although I'm not one 100% sure of this blog, I might correct it in the future: I had a lot of fun writing this, especially the dialogue, but I think it is a little bit dull and monotonous to read. Like, it could be funnier. However, I think it's an overall decent set of hcns.
One more thing! I was thinking of finishing some Christmas Headcanons. But I'm not sure I will finish them on time before the holiday. I might publish it after Christmas. If so, would you guys be interested either way?
☁︎ ──── the lock became stiff again. you nudge it open, and—as always—no one's there to welcome.
you don't call his name. the lights are off, but the TV flickers. a cheap static staining the walls.
dante's out cold on the couch. one arm slung off the side, fingers barely hooking a can by the brim. his mouth is parted, and his soft snores were beginning to get lost in a dream.
he doesn't stir. not at the noise of the screen. or the creak of your boots dragging mud across the boards. not when the door shuts behind you, sealing the back the night’s luminance.
he looked so peaceful. it would've been sweet if you simply ignored how the world had been trying to gut you alive. clawing at your throat whenever you'd even try and breathe.
“g'night,” you mumbled tiredly, then mockingly to yourself, “oh, how am i, baby? i'm doing okay, kind of you to ask.”
you step in. the apartment colder than you remember leaving it.
your gear settles in the armchair. gods know how the zipper of your bag managed to get caught in one of the loose threads of the cushions. sometimes it felt as if life was testing the last strings of patience you held.
but ignoring so, you took a few steps that led you to the AC. turning up the temperature to something more human. letting the warmth settle before joining your thoughts in the bathroom.
the mirror greets you, cracked through the corner, warped in age.
for someone who saves the world on a regular, dante still lives in it like it's falling apart.
not ‘one for being in debt’ he says. . . ironically contradicting the certain situation he has you both against.
the reflection replicates the impurities the previous fight brought. the hollow eyes and split lip, the ribbon of already-dried blood down your temple. not to mention the pale hues poisoning your features.
going out feels less like a mission and more like a jest at your expense. instead of being paid money and assurance, like any other hunter would love, you're left with scars and fewer bullets in your mag.
y'see, dante forgot to mention that part.
you shake your head, reaching for the rag on the sink. it's damp. maybe from before, or from him. and let the water seep.
but the blood didn't rub off. you scrub, and drag until the cloth turns dark. it's stubborn and doesn't want to let go of your skin. over, and over.
it clings—like the things he says. or the ones he doesn't.
and suddenly. . . it's not just about blood you're trying to rid off.
you should've known.
you should’ve.
he's sparda's son. born of devils' skin and a woman's tragedy. you knew what he was before he ever touched you. you knew the look of their eyes was to warn and lips to deceive.
you think of what he said.
you think of how easily he said it. . .
“you knew what this was. come on—i'm not the settling-down type.”
he made it sound like a means to an end. some one-sided bond. nothing serious. . . it always did make you feel pathetic.
you breathe out and your reflection fogs up like it's trying to spare you the sight.
“this... isn't just casual, is it?” you asked, voice softer than usual.
he didn't even mind to look.
“what's that supposed to mean?”
you frowned, shifting the strawberry delight in your hands slightly. “i mean. . . like, we've been going out and doing this for a while. i thought… y'know.”
“you're reading too much into it.” he casually said, the spoon still in his mouth as it muffled some words, “don't make this into more than it is. i'm sure everyone does it, yeah?”
somewhere between the frustration, you hadn't realized you reopened a wound. with how carelessly you've tried to clean your skin, it was quick to irritate the area, pealing back a layer of deeper crimson.
you want to blame him. you want to call him what he is.
a demon. . . but the word didn't sound fair.
you bite it down, feeling it rot in your throat. but with everything you held back. it was impossible take control of it all.
tears glistened in your eyes, though the voice in your mind persisted you could only blame yourself for this.
. . .he never did promised you safety, nor promise you'd be loved.
and yet, you remember the way he looked at you that first night... held heavy by rain and devil guts, grinning like the world wasn't near its end. you remember his voice, and how it dipped when he called you “hotshot.” like it meant something.
or when his fingers would ever so slightly shift to hold yours. saying “just in case something tried to drag you away.” not that he cared. he made sure to say that. but the tone of his words, or the look in his eyes never helped that cause.
maybe you were stupid to believe that tone meant more than the words that followed it.
you told yourself it was enough. that it didn't hurt. that if you just stayed long enough, maybe he'd figure it out. after all, he's the only one you had. and you his.
maybe you could teach a man made of doubt how to trust. and potentially, how to love. . .
you subconsciously drag the cloth harder across the back of your hands. you feel the sting of another cut breaking open. the warmth of blood lingers longer now, caught in the lines of your palm. your fingers start to shake. whether from the texture or from everything else, it's so hard to tell apart.
you hate how ugly it feels. you hate that it's true. you hate that calling him a demon makes your chest tighten with guilt.
maybe caring makes you naive. or worse—selfish. because you weren't in love with the devil. you were in love with the man who tried not to look flustered when he was complimented. the guy who'd gift you dead flowers because he thought you could simply plant them over again and watch them grow yourself.
could that make you worse of a person?
does that mean you're cruel?
for choosing what part of him to love and which to discard.
for extending your arms to the part of him that told what you wanted to hear, and turn your face from the one that silently begged to be held the same. . .
or does it just make you human?. . . the want for affection. being drawn to solace like any other living thing.
you drop the cloth. and it limps at the bottom of the sink with a sickening sound. the water is gentle. but your skin is raw, proliferating a rose red beneath its surface.
there's a shift. not yours. a creak—barely audible over the faucet's hum.
you don't want to meet the reflection. but the water stills. and your iris finds that familiar shade...
his hand finds the knob to turn off, and he stays there, eyes the color of winter glass, trailing patterns down the porcelain's worn down edges.
you don't greet him. you're still mending your hands. like maybe if you scrubbed harder, the ache in your chest would come off with the grime.
“...why didn't you say you were back?”
his tone tries for casual. like it's just a question.
you stare at the cloth. unsure of what to even say. so you settle with silence.
somehow, that throws him hard. his lips shift like he wants to argue, like he wants to give some dumb quip about how he's unbothered by everything just so he could at least hear your voice. but he doesn't.
“. . . you were gone all day.”
he says it quieter. maybe that's the part he actually meant to lead with.
you nod, but it's faint. your shoulders don't lift much.
he wishes there was some awkwardness, something, anything to distract from the unsettling sensation of your quietude.
he rubs the back of his neck, glancing down like he suddenly noticed how red your hands are.
“…i have some leftover pizza.”
could you even call it an effort? it's more like a life raft tossed out of habit.
it has nothing to do with the conversation. but he always does this. dismissing the main problem like he's afraid of it.
you close your eyes, pressing your palms into the edge of the sink until your knuckles pale.
he notices your distress. “it's pepperoni,” he mumbles. like that's the important part.
you almost smile. almost.
instead, you rinse your hands again. the water runs clear this time, but you still don't look at him.
he watches you for a moment too long, then shifts his weight like he's preparing for something. because he knows after you're done, you're going to walk out that door and not speak to him. . . and he doesn't know if that might be the last time.
“is this about yesterday?” it's barely audible.
you don't reply. and that's an answer enough on its own.
“listen, i didn't mean it like that... what i said. . .” he trails off, like he needs the right words to give peace of mind, even if just temporary.
you move to leave slowly, not because you're hesitant, but because your limbs are aching. and along with the strain of your feelings, you can't bring yourself to listen anymore of it.
he notices, and his voice cracks halfway through.
“i was tired—and i say a lotta crap when i don't wanna think about it.” his voice is low now, almost ashamed.
you brush his shoulder on the way past. he feels it, the empty space left behind.
his hand is out before he even realizes it, reaching for your wrist. fingers clumsily closing over it.
“just—wait a sec.”
“dante.”
“i don't want to argue about—“
“nobody is arguing.”
“then let me say something!”
“i'm tired—“
“you were bein' real. and i got scared, alright?”
you pause, feeling the resignation in his voice, and how the irises of your eyes dilate. because you swear this amount of emotion had never touched his lips.
and he hates it, because to him, he looks pathetic.
instead he just stands there. an awkward stance because he’s just been caught with the truth.
“it's not that i don't care,” he finally says.
and somehow, your heart pieced together his words.
i just don't know how to.
he sucks in a breath, and trusts you enough to let go of your wrist.
then quieter, “i’ve... i can handle demons, i can handle fights, and anything my father's name throws at me, but. . .”
his eyes gesture vaguely at you, it's kind of stupid. but he can't help the words out.
“see, this ain't how i wanted it to go.”
you tilt you head, squinting your eyes. “go. . . how?”
“i had a cooler version in my head...” he huffs out a short breath. glancing away, and dragging a hand down his face. “it's not coming out right.”
but you wait. not trying to fix it.
“look, you already know i’m—” he paused, and you notice the subtle twitch in his eyes as he lowers his voice, “a fuck-up. . .” like he flinches at the thought of even being honest with himself.
he finally looks at you. really looks.
“you said 'i love you’,” he says quietly. “and i wasn't sure how to say it back.”
his fingers twitch again at his sides, curling into a fist before unclenching. “and i don't get why you stay.”
“you could be doin' literally anything else. office job. photography. bartending, get weekends off. but you're out here gettin' blood on your shoes, draggin' me home, payin' for groceries i swore i was gonna cover—” his hand lifts to gesture vaguely toward the hallway where the kitchenette resides, a helpless motion in his behalf.
“—and when i ask you why, you shut me up with kisses, tell me you chose to do this with me and—goddamn it, i swear you're more worried about me skipping meals than the 10-foot demon hound chasin' us around.” he starts to list it off—not out of mockery, but out of disbelief. out of a desperate need to understand.
he pauses.
“and that scares me. because i. . . i really don't know what to do with that.”
the silence afterward is heavier than anything he's mentioned he doesn't fill it. just stands there, heart begging to crawl out of his chest, waiting for you to answer—or walk away.
“it's reckless, and i swear, i swear—i look at you and i forget how to be the guy i was before.”
he swallows hard. trying to press it all back down. everything he's never said, and never let himself say. rising anyway, thick in his throat, crawling up behind his ribs.
“before you,” he says, almost inaudibly, shame tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“i didn't think there was anything else for me. no future, no version of me that wasn't just. . . surviving.”
just then, he finally had the courage to meet your eyes.
“. . . i found you outside that eye-sore of a tower,” he mutters, almost to himself. “firing off rounds from some busted-ass pawn shop pistol.”
you do your best not to smile. he notices.
“world's ending, demons crawling outta hell's crack, and there you were. standing on a pile of rubble.”
his voice shakes with the effort it takes to say it. “and i thought, no way she's sticking around. no way someone like you stays in this mess. 'cause seeing you in itself is a blessing—i mean, damn it.”
“you had no clue what was going on," he goes on, and there's a laugh caught somewhere in his throat. "said you were just looking for a train station. i thought—hell, maybe you'd been hit on the head. or maybe you were just that badass.”
he swallows. you can almost hear it. that tight, dry click of someone dragging emotion through grit.
“you weren't supposed to get dragged into this shit. none of it. blood, demons, cults, hell gates... me. i'm the one who was built for this. born for it, even. i got nothin' to lose here.”
his breath catches a little. he doesn't look at you. “or i didn't have it before.”
“so yeah,” he mutters, quieter now. “i'm selfish. and scared. and real goddamn bad at this.”
“but if this thing between us is the last good thing i ever get... i'm not gonna be the reason it gets ruined.”
“. . . i didn't follow you,” you murmur. “you weren't leading somewhere.”
he blinks. not quite understanding.
“you didn't drag me into anything...” you add.
your voice softens an orphic sentence.
“i wanted to be here. and you're not nothing. not to me.”
he finally looks up at you. really looks.
like he's been surviving of off the idea that you'd never say those words. that he didn't deserve them.
and maybe that's what breaks him.
his hand trembles at his side. not enough to see, but you can feel it.
“…shit,” he breathes, half a laugh and not at all amused. “you've never heard me talk this much, huh?”
you shake your head, a slow blink. “i mean... you talk a lot. but not usually things that, well, you actually have to think through.”
that gets a soft scoff out of him. his smile—worn and faint, barely reaches the line of his lips.
and you watch it fall again, just as gently.
“i just want you to be safe,” he mutters, voice low and hoarse. “and if that means havin' you away from me... then maybe that's what i should've done.”
“but i didn't. and i'm not gonna lie and say i'd do it different, 'cause i wouldn't.”
he reached for the cloth, cleaning through and rinsing off whatever blood there was left on your hands, before placing it back down. “i tried, but, guess i only ended up making things worse.”
you blink through the selcouth feeling in your chest. the way his voice cracks when he acknowledges it.
“. . . so, what are we?”
he looks up again. like you offered him mercy. and that makes him laugh, soft and disbelieving.
“anything you want me to be.”
your lips curl into the softest of smiles. then tilt your head.
he blinks, rolling his eyes. “i'm bein' serious.”
“my over-leveraged moocher?”
“babe,” he warns, and you hear the smile threatening to pair his mouth.
you squint at him like you're thinking. “a guy that actually speaks out about how he's feeling instead of leaving me out in the open thinking he never cared about me?”
his jaw drops, and he quickly gains composure, running a hand through his hair.
“see, i thought for sure you'd bail out by now.”
“how come?”
“someone like you... sticking around in my kind of mess this long?” he scoffs. “yeah, right.”
you let the silence settle again, lighter this time. not raw as before.
then quietly follow-up.
“...it's because i'm cooler, isn't it?”
and you expect him to talk back. to scoff, to playfully deflect like he always does. you even tilt your head, waiting. but he doesn't.
his eyes linger on your face—your tired but amused expression, the tiny crease forming by your nose when you try not to smile.
he exhales, low. “we're on the same level,” he mutters, and you can already hear the eye-roll in his tone.
he finally smiles, faint, boyish in that half-awkward, sheepish way of his. like he can't believe he just admitted that.
and before you can brace it, he leans in, grabbing the back of your thighs, hoisting you up against him.
you gasp, interrupted by a laugh. a real, surprised breathless bubble of sweetest undoing. “what are you doing—“
“bein' romantic,” he deadpans, but you can feel the grin against your jaw. “thought you wanted an emotionally-driven guy.”
his arms hold you firm, his hands warm through the fabric of your clothes.
you're laughing too much to argue. and he kisses you before you can even get a word out.
slow and tentative. only to break messy.
he pulls back just enough to whisper it against your lips, “you are cooler, by the way.” like it doesn't need to be louder than this.
and it's stupid, and sweet, and so unmistakably him, but it lands so softly.
𓂃 . hi annon and everyone <3
i hope you see this, for some reason it's not letting me reply to your inbox request so that sucks. . .
i'm going to be so honest i'm a bit of a wuss so there's fluff at the end. . . and it might be ooc but there’s not a lot of material to base this off of.
but tysm for the request! feel free to give me as many ideas or corrections as needed—sorry if this is kind of short... i didn't want for it to be obnoxiously long or boring.
also if you couldn't tell i got a bit lazy at the end, i’m so super sorry, i'll update it as soon as i can! i just wanted to post something for the meanwhile. . .
anyway, i hope this was suitable for your enjoyment. have a blessed day!
dante x f!reader. cw: he refers to reader by the nickname sunshine. established relationship, little flirtatious fluff situation. | wc 1.6k, reading time: ~6 minutes.
“Zip me up?”
“Where are you headed off to dressed like that?”
The two questions paired next to one another, one asked by you and one by Dante, leave the two of you staring at each other silently in the little bathroom of your apartment.
He walked from around the corner to see you, announcing his arrival into your humble abode by whistling a tune while tossing his keys down and taking his boots off. You knew he’d be here soon which is why you were standing here anyway, unable to reach between your shoulder blades to finish closing your dress.
You weren’t expecting such a reaction.
“I have an undercover job tonight, remember?”
Oh he remembers. Two nights ago you told him you made a deal with a client you’re working with that he’d buy you some time to dig for information about a target their client has been hunting. Such tangled webs are woven in the criminal underbelly of this city.
“What kind of job was it again?”
Rolling your eyes with a scoff, you turn and present your half zipped back to him.
“Information picking.” Looking over your shoulder, you pout. “Please, Dante? I don’t wanna be late.”
The tension in the room doesn’t let up, in fact it intensifies when he sighs and stays in place, hands in his pockets.
“Honey.” He coos, finally approaching you and placing a hand at the dip of your waist.
He looms over the back of you, chest pressing into your back and shoulders, chin coming to rest on top of yours.
“You look unbelievable,” he admits, laughing to himself, hand sliding from your waist to the front of your stomach where he flattens it. “Too good to be out without me.”
How unfortunate that he knows just how to make your ears perk up. His hand slides from your stomach upward, finally resting across your chest and pulling you to rest against his front. Giggling, you reach up to pat one of his cheeks, pinching at the sharpness of his jaw on the way up.
“Don’t be dramatic. Besides, all I have to do tonight is smile and blend in, it’s no big deal.”
Dante chuckles, a low and dangerous rumble in his chest. You attempt to turn your head to look at him but he stops you, hand rising from your chest to your jaw to turn your head upward and allow him access to your neck. Bending slightly at the knees, he kisses the bare space between your shoulder blades.
“You’re never just blending in though, are you?” He whispers, kissing your shoulder and up the slope of your neck. “There’s always going to be someone looking, watching…” he trails off, another kiss planted just beneath your ear. You press your fingertips against the firmness of his abs, preparing to gently push him off of you but hesitate a moment to enjoy his teeth nipping at the tender skin of your earlobe. “Wishing,” he continues.
The blood pooling in your cheeks makes your head swim enough to consider the possibility of not going tonight. He’s using the tone of voice he only rasps out when he’s muttering about how you feel as good as you look and taste and smell. His teeth and lips and wandering hands are practically swimming through the waves of your resistance.
It’s a very impressive attempt at distracting you.
Fortunately, the little angel that sometimes takes residence on your shoulder reminds you that you’re being paid to do this job. Handsomely. Well enough that you can stuff a little cash in Dante’s desk drawer before he notices and can argue with you and to also pay your own rent for the rest of the year.
Sighing, you gently push yourself away from him. One of his arms remains over your shoulder but the other drops to his side. You look up at him blinking sweetly, cheeks still hot.
“If I tell you where this place is, will it make you feel better?”
He shrugs half heartedly, a frown floating over his handsome face. You want to kiss it away, something he is almost certainly aware of, yet remain standing in front of him with one hand pressed flat against his abdomen and the other holding his bicep.
“It’s this underground place, I dunno. Apparently a lot of people who are associated with black market demon part trading hang out down there.”
You shake your head flippantly, trying to recall what the name is, tapping your foot impatiently.
“Oh it’s The Palazzo.” The two of you say it at the same time.
You raise your eyebrows in surprise and Dante nods, sucking his teeth. “Yeah, I know where and what that is.”
He’s even more protective now if his posture is a peek into his psyche, arms that were just tempting you into them now crossing over his chest. You grab his forearms, squeezing them gently. “It’s in and out, Dante. I’ll be there for like two hours tops.”
He offers a flippant shrug in response, clearly poised to say more and choosing to stop himself.
“Please let me handle this on my own,” you plead knowing it’s probably going to be ultimately futile if he gets a wild enough streak during your absence. “If things go bad I’ll make sure I know where all the exits are and call you immediately, okay?”
It’s not enough to completely persuade him but his posture softens, leaning in to kiss you on the forehead.
“Some real rough people hang out there, sunshine…”
Now who is trying to persuade who here? He trails off upon realizing the look he’s being given, shutting his mouth tightly and pursing his lips to mirror your unamused face.
“Two hours max. You will live without me.”
“But will you live without me?” He asks with a curious hum.
“Not funny.” You turn to present your back to him. “Now zip.”
—--------------
Inhaling sharply, you smile over your shoulder and wish one of the men departing from you a good night. He slips a napkin with his number on it in your direction and you slide it down to the floor at your feet, watching it flutter onto sticky checkerboard tile. Letting a moment pass, you shift on the bar stool where you’re perched and notice something strange.
It feels like someone is watching you.
One swivel of your head confirms that your gut feeling about the owner of the gaze was correct.
Dante sits across the crowded floor, raising an eyebrow and the corner of his lip to match it, pleased to finally be noticed.
You, on the other hand, are less than pleased to have been defied. All you asked was for one simple thing and he couldn’t even manage to leave you alone to work. Groaning under your breath, you look away to take a moment to decide what to do.
The night has been sort of a bust. Your client was nice enough to dismiss you over an hour ago upon realizing the target of your attempt at information fishing was not going to show up but you remained here to eke anything out to little avail.
The fun doesn’t have to end here though, does it?
Smiling, you rise from your seat and approach the corner where the extremely handsome man who holds the key to your heart rests with his arms spread over the back of the half circle booth he sits at. His hair hangs in his face, as always. The shirt he probably grabbed out of the back of his closet is charmingly wrinkled and sitting tightly over his chest, the pearlescent button keeping it closed straining when he moves.
He couldn’t be more obvious about what he’s trying to do if he tried. You’re the one falling for it though, the crowd around you practically melting away while you approach him and lean over the circular table in front of the booth, leaning in on your elbow.
“Hi there.” Pinching the stem of the cherry floating atop his old fashioned, you pop it into your mouth with a lopsided grin.
The tip of your tongue catches a drip of the drink. You hum appreciatively, obviously leaning into this little scenario you’ve set up to avoid drawing attention to this corner of the room.
“Have we met before?”
Dante smirks back at you, tenting his hands on the table in front of him. This is both reward and punishment for going against what you requested and expertly as ever, you’ve tossed the ball to his side of the court to eagerly await how he’ll proceed.
He shakes his head, cerulean eyes meeting yours as naturally as ever. “No. I don’t believe we have.” He lifts his drink and sips, contentedly sighing and smacking his lips together. “I’d definitely remember one as pretty as you are.”
You giggle, leaning across the small table, toward him. One quick reach finds his glass in your hand and you spin it with your palm until the point he just drank from rests just above your lips, your bottom one wrapping around where his just touched.
A mischievous smile crosses your face, able to be made out even through the thick glass of the cup and the amber of the drink itself. Tossing your head back to drain most of his glass, you place it back down on the table and slide it back to him with nothing but clinking ice and an orange twist at the bottom.
“Then let’s get to know each other,” you offer, scooting across the rounded booth to press yourself into his side.
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.
I watched the new DMC show, I would love to hear your take on Dante, Lady and Virgil in a relationship for the first time?
I watched it too, I fully expected Dante and Virgil to be hot but I gotta say Lady took me by surprise, I love her so much.
Pairing: Dante, Mary "Lady" Arkham, Virgil x Reader
Tags: fluff, established relationship, kissing, first relationship, co-workers, protectiveness, demon hunting, flirting
Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions
A/N: I hope to Sparda that there's a season 2 because I need to see more Virgil for sure, and definitely more Danlady shipping fuel.
DANTE
Flirts very shamessly and constantly once you get into a relationship with him. Will absolutely use any chance to show off in front of you, gotta get all those looks from you, looks that sent a shiver down his spine. On slower days he enjoys playing video games with you or cuddling on the couch and doing nothing, enjoying some peace and quiet. Has had quick and fleeting relationships before but never a long-term one so sometimes he gets nervous about it. But he doesn't want you to notice so he covers it up by flirting even harder.
LADY
Will try to hide your relationship at first, especially at work. There are many ways it could backfire and get you both in trouble, or become a weakness for others to exploit. But what's even more of a reason is that she wants to have you and your attention all to herself for as long as possible. Banter gets more flirty when you're on demon hunting missions and it's just the two of you. She wakes up earlier so the two of you can have some alone time to kiss and flirt while you get ready for work and only then be more professional.
VIRGIL
Is cold to you even when you start dating. Just because you're his beloved now doesn't mean he will treat you like he has to baby you. Protect yes, but he still expects you to pull your weight with everything you do together. He is very punctual and always remembers any important date, which does actually make you feel special, there aren't many people he would bother to remember in the first place. Not good with flirting or teasing and blushes easily when you're lovey-dovey with him.
I felt like writing a certain scenario…or scenarios, sorry. I didn’t expect it to be this long or to write so much. I also didn’t expect to pull the “Fine…I’ll do it myself” move when I noticed the significant lack of content for self aware Dmc, so please enjoy my incredibly self indulgent drabbles!
(Also can you tell I like Nero a lot?)
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You were particularly vocal when it came to fighting enemies or bosses, they knew that. Something they grew accustomed over time was the small sputters and choked breaths you’d make when you nearly avoid an attack (especially during a boss fight, Vergil was particularly used to this considering you struggled fighting him the most) or the wheezes and cheers of relief when you won or got a hit in between the attacks:
- “C’mon, c’mon, c’mooon!! No no no, fucking move Dante please- SHIT!” You yelped, desperately spamming the controller’s buttons to move out of the way from Vergil’s attack. And promptly choking on your own breath, coughing for a moment before wheezing as you got the chance to close in on him and attack. “Okay, gO GO GO- YES!!”
The twins heard you cheer, inwardly amused at your rapid mood swings mid fight. Dante in general was having a riot, a shame he couldn’t show it though. Vergil on the other hand, could only sigh to himself. You certainly were clumsy. But both twins knew that you were certainly improving with each attempt. They were proud, considering how nervous and frantic you seem to be.
One thing the cast noticed though, is that if you died a certain amount of times during a boss fight, you’d go quiet for a moment, sigh defeatedly and say something they took a while to understand…what do you mean by “locking in”?? Whatever it was, it certainly worked…to some extent. They could hear music playing so they could only assume you put your headphones on to focus. Most of the time, they’d hear their theme songs or songs from the franchise but sometimes you’d play your own songs. Or at least from your personal music taste like this so called Sabrina Carpenter or…Limp Bizkit??? They couldn’t complain since you seemed pretty focused…and cute. At times, they hear you sing along while fighting:
- As the game over screen displayed on your TV after dying to Echidna again, you could only stay quiet before sighing and grabbing your headphones and muttering under your breath. “Okay, that’s it chat. I’m locking in”
‘You’re…what now?’ Nero thought, confused on what you meant. And who’s chat? You’re alone in your room-
All of a sudden, he didn’t hear anything from you at all as you started the next attempt to fight the demoness again. You were just…oddly quiet, the only noises he could hear though were the occasional hitched breath after dodging an attack or a small “yes!” under your breath when you land a good amount of hits
“Hey, ladies, hey, fellas, and the people that don't give a fuck! All the lovers, all the haters, and all the people that call themselves players! Hot mamas, pimp daddies, and the people rollin' up in caddies! Hey, rockers, Hip-hoppers, and everybody all around the world!” Okay that’s definitely his style…he could get used to your music taste, that’s for sure. And you sounded so happy, he couldn’t help but melt.
“-frustration’s getting bigger. Bang, bang, bang! Pull my devil trigger!” …wait are you singing his theme song?…that’s adorable. You sound so hyped too. Guess music makes you focus, huh? He guessed that’s what you meant by “locking in”…whatever that actually means.
“God this song is so good, ugh- SHIT NO, NERO I’M SORRY!” You yelped again, making him shake his head with a fond smile in response. You were always such a clumsy little thing weren’t you? It was endearing though.
——————-
- “Cause I’m busy woman, I wouldn’t let you in my calendar any night~ But if you want my kisses, I’ll be your favorite Mrs til the day that one of us dies~ Oh hey! OH SHIT! FUCK NO, I’M GONNA DIE AGAIN, ACK-“ You sang, cutting yourself mid lyrics to yelp again as you almost died mid fight against Vergil.
The song itself was…oddly fitting for you. You seemed like a workaholic but you also seemed like a hopeless romantic. And the twins couldn’t necessarily complain. Your voice was rather pleasant to hear. Soft, just like you.
“Manchiiiiiild~ why you always come-a running to me? Fuck my liiiife! Won't you let an innocent woman be?~ No, ACTUALLY, PLEASE, VERGIL, LEAVE ME BE! I’M ALMOST DEAD! WHY DOES DEVIL TRIGGER TAKE SO LONG TO RECHARGE? DANTE, PLEASE-” Dante almost burst out laughing at that, Vergil almost letting out a smirk himself. It’s hilarious and endearing how you could go from singing so delicately to screaming and sounding like you’re close to tears so quickly in a single sentence. The song choice this time was certainly amusing.
“Oh, I like my boys playing hard to get~ And I like my men all incompetent. And I swear they choose me, I'm not choosing them. Amen, hey, men~” You continued, sounding much more collected, and if not content as you get a hang of the fight this time around. At this point, Dante was actually humming along under his breath, with Vergil raising a brow at him as he did. Only to receive a shrug in response as Dante started to singing along. Quiet enough so you wouldn’t be able to hear though.
They could hear the actual melody considering how loud it was…are you trying to go deaf?
Another thing the noticed, is that after you beat the boss you were stuck on after “locking in”, you’d quickly turn the music off and start cheering. You’d sound so cute. It made the failed attempts and deaths worth it.
“YEAH! LETS FUCKING GOOOO! I DID IT!” You laughed with a cheer, leaving the twins amused and endeared to see you so excited after beating the other.
“Looks like the little darling’s pretty happy, huh Vergil? They got you pretty good” Dante teased, raising a brow at his fallen brother.
“Shut up…” The stoic twin sneered faintly, though he was secretly just as happy for you considering you tried so hard to beat him. He had to give credit where credit is due.
One thing they really loved though, was when you started saying little phrases they did. Like for example:
“This party’s getting crazy. Let’s rock!” You grinned before starting to kill the demons in the hall with Dante, him feeling extremely giddy at hearing you speaking like him. Only motivating him more to get better combos…or at least help you get them since he knew you were still a little rocky in that area.
“Jackpot!” You both said at the same time, the younger twin feeling elated after hearing you cheer and laugh once you realized you “timed it” right with the voice line. You didn’t, he said it on purpose because he had a feeling you’d do it but he’d do anything to see you smile
——————
“Foolishness…” Vergil heard you quote, feeling a bit embarrassed that you’d repeat his line but at the same time prideful that you’d liked him so much that you’d behave like him to some extent. It was…endearing . Not that you needed -or could- know that.
He could only sigh, and continue fighting under your guidance. “Now I’m motivated!” You quoted once more, with him also saying it under his breath with a small smirk.
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“”Shall we dance?”” Oh my gosh, that’s so- ah!” Nero could hear you fawn after you said the line along with him, feeling flustered over how you swooned over him so openly. You really like him huh?
“OH WAIT SHIT THERES MORE! MOVE, MOVE MOVE-!!” You yelped, quickly moving him outta the way before starting to hit more combos. “Slam dunk!” You both said together unknowingly, the synchronization making the white haired boy smile and only motivating him to go harder on the horde of demons
They really loved to see your reactions to certain cutscenes though. Especially Dante, who always tried to fluster you the most.
“First I whip it out!”
“FIRST YOU WHAT?!” Dante could hear you sputter, hiding you face in your hands as you laughed at his behavior. Enjoying your reaction as he proceeded to make it worse and by extension, flustering you more.
By the time he destroyed the hell gate, your face was slightly red with both laughter and embarrassment as he saw you clap playfully at his impromptu performance. Bowing as he looked at you and winked, making sure he made it look like it was part of the game as to not arise suspicion. He could still have his fun though, couldn’t he?
Or when you shamelessly say the most ridiculous things just because you think they can’t hear you. A few examples of that being-
“…wait so if Vergil is Nero’s dad…does that make him a dilf??” Vergil almost broke character right and there mid idle animation, in disbelief on what you just said before you started exploring with him again.
“…I mean…I guess that’s an excuse to call him Daddy but- ha! Okay no, I take it back, I’m sorry!” You laughed, oblivious to his embarrassed and if not exasperated expression. Unbelievable. You were unbelievable…but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it…or if he didn’t think about what you said before quickly chastising himself for it. He had to focus on the fight! Damn you!
——————-
You watched as Trish and Lady handled the demons in front of Devil May Cry, expertly dodging their attacks and killing them with ease. Though admittedly, they wanted to impress you too.
“…so uh…not to be a whore but…I can take ‘em. Not in a fight, by the way…not…not like I could in an actual fight either but not the point. Anyway- please? Mothers??? Oh my fucking god, they’re so, ughhh! Please! One chance!! I’m literally begging, please-“ You blurted out, laughing in what sounded like a flustered fit.
How sweet. You were the cutest thing, truly. They’d have their fun with you if they could. But unfortunately, they were confined to the games code…for now
——————-
“Aww they’re so cute!! I’m glad they’re safe now. Honestly” Nero and Kyrie heard you coo, feeling embarrassed but endeared over your affectionate nature towards them. They appreciated that you never said anything negative about them being together but rather swooning over both respectively. Like now.
“Kyrie’s so pretty…honestly, she looks gorgeous with her hair down! Her singing was so good too! Aww she’s so pretty, fuck!” She couldn’t help but blush at that, you were the sweetest thing. She wished she could compliment you too. You were so nice!
“And Nero’s so pretty too…he’s like a cat. That’s unrelated and makes no sense but it makes sense to me and that’s all that matters! I love them so much. One chance, I’d treat you both so well, please-“ Nero couldn’t help but chuckle as his face reddened a bit too, you really were amusing. It was no surprise he and Kyrie took an interest in you though. They’d happily share you, if they could.
Last but not least, they found it so adorable when you said goodbye for the day. They didn’t like saying goodbye but you just looked so sleepy and tired when you did, always playing and staying with them the entire day until late at night. They had to let their little darling sleep, didn’t they?
“G’night guys…I love you..” They heard you murmur, watching as you waved tiredly with a small yawn and turned off the console.
You looked so sleepy…so cute. They just wanted to hold you in their arms until you fell asleep. You’d like that wouldn’t you? You said you loved them after all. They really did grow to love you to…perhaps too much…maybe they could bring you to them? They’d keep you safe, they promise! After all, didn’t you want to spend time with them properly? They’ll take good care of you, just like you take care of them and more.
But until next time, they supposed. Or until they found a way to get you to them…their lovely little darling…you’d be theirs soon. They’d make sure of that.
nero sparda x gn!reader. wc: 544. fluff!! nero is down bad its actually pathetic, overuse of the word down bad cuz i cant think of another word. requested.
There's no way that Nero became this soft.
It all started with him slightly softening his voice while talking to you, he counts to ten before replying so he wouldn't say something that would upset you —and he never does that to anyone else except you. —, and most importantly, he never shuts up about you. Is he in love?? No way, Nero would say.
Everybody knows that Nero has a crush on you; he's down bad for you, and he can't hide it even if he wants to. Yet, he always gets defensive and refuses every rumor about him being desperate for your attention.
Except that he's really down bad.
The way he tries to get closer to you is hilarious. He keeps including himself in every conversation you have with everyone, offering help even if you can surely do it yourself without any assistance, always walking you home, and never leaving you out alone in case you encounter a demon.
Dante always teased about it, encouraging him to just confess and shoot his shot, but Nero always refuses and says things like "I don't have a crush on them. We're just friends, old man!"
Yet, Nero can't get his eyes off of you when you talk, he likes to have all of your attention and he actually gets jealous when you ignore him and give it to someone else. And when someone asks him about his lingering gaze on you, Nero just shrugs it off and says that he does those things to others too. Spoilers: he doesn't.
Nero really doesn't want to admit that he likes you for fear of you rejecting him and your friendship won't be normal like it was.
But today, he tried to give it a shot and be a bit extra.
He's walking you home as usual, having some small talks then and there. Nero was so close to you that your shoulders bumped with every movement and your hands brushed together.
You stopped in front of your apartment. Nero gave you your bag that he was holding the whole walk, you took it with a smile, and rummaged through it to find your keys.
You found them and turned around to unlock the door. You turned back to him with a smile that makes him fold every time. "Thank you, Nero. You don't have to do it, you know?"
"I know," Nero shrugged, putting his hands inside his jeans' pockets and looking everywhere just not to meet your eyes. "But I want to do it. You're fun to be around."
You chuckled quietly, making Nero look at you with love fulling his eyes. he stepped closer, leaning in for a bit. This move made you stop chuckling and just look at his oh so beautiful blue eyes.
He slowly leaned in even more and kissed your cheek, lingering there for a few seconds before clearing his throat and wiping his nose in nervousness. "Uh- uhm. Take care, bye."
He ran away before you even processed what just happened. Your hand came to caress where his soft lips came in contact with your skin, you giggled like a teenager, and got inside your apartment with a wide smile.
