a thing where Nero is a streamer bc dumb AUs like this are my lifeblood; n/sfw, blowjob, sorta-kinda-exhibitionism if you squint?
lol this would've been done two weeks ago but i was banging my head against a wall to force myself to write the smut part bc that was what this whole dumb idea was centered around lmao why do i this to myself
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“I think it’s cute.”
Nero makes a face. ‘Cute’ isn’t something he generally associates himself with and that semi-disgusted expression says it for him. “It’s not cute,” he huffs, ducking his head down to make it easier for your lips to meet his cheek when you pull him in by the open ends of his jacket. “What kinda jerk would I be to blow them off on my birthday?”
You nod sagely, “And I think it’s cute you wanna celebrate with several thousand people even though you claim to not be a people person.”
Nero’s lips purse to form that familiar thin line—the patented Nero Pout™ as his community has so rightfully dubbed the expression. He knows you’re only teasing him, and mostly he’s just glad you weren’t annoyed that he was still streaming today despite you telling him you had a big surprise planned. “It’ll only be a few hours,” he promises, taking his seat and sliding his headphones on.
You nod again, wishing him luck and turn for the door.
“Hey,” he waits till you stop to look back before continuing, “you don’t have to leave the room. I know you wanna keep our private life offline, but—”
“It’s not like that,” you smile with a shake of your head. “My favorite streamer’s about to go live and I don’t wanna miss his birthday stream.”
Nero rolls his eyes as he turns back to his computer, waiting for the click of the closing door to start the stream.
There’s always such a little thrill in participating in his audience; to chat among the strangers who have no idea who you are; the way he reads off your username and messages while just barely containing his reaction to not give it away.
This evening was no exception. Amidst his griping of some of the battles he was halfheartedly concentrating on, Nero thanks the seemingly endless waves of birthday wishes and donations that fly by on the screen. ‘What are you doing for your birthday?’ one such message reads.
“What am I doing for my--I’m here, aren’t I?” The corner of his mouth quirks up, as if amused by the obvious answer.
‘Do you have any plans!?’ another insists. His viewers were always on the hunt for facts and deeper information than he puts out there. Not that you can blame them, but sometimes you can’t help but get a bit defensive when they try prying too much.
“Well, sure,” he says, pretending to be too concentrated on the game to give an actual answer.
Tonight, however, you join in on the fun. ‘I bet you have something really fun planned,’ your message pops up just as he looks at chat again.
Nero reads your username and message aloud with a chuckle before sheepishly not denying the fact with ambiguous words. More messages explode, demanding details and promises of good times for his birthday if afforded the opportunity.
As always, his chat begins telling him to remember to stretch his legs when it’s nearly been two hours into the stream. “Yes, Mom,” Nero sarcastically responds to the message that’s read aloud by the donation bot telling him to walk around the room. “I need some water, anyway,” he announces to the viewers as he stands and pulls his headphones off before leaning back down into view of the camera. “Give me five minutes, okay?”
Per the ritual, you’re already in the kitchen once Nero emerges from his office, bottle of water in hand and ready to pass to him. “You’re killin’ it, babe,” you say as he takes a long drink.
“Can’t stay long,” he says, sounding serious, “my favorite viewer is watching.”
“Oh, I didn’t think you were allowed to play favorites?”
Nero’s forehead bumps yours, “Not too much longer, I promise.”
“Take your time.” You nudge back. “Seriously. Everyone’s having fun, especially me.”
True to his word, no less than five minutes and Nero is back, bottled water in hand, and this time standing after raising his desk up. Instead of immediately hopping back into the game, however, he takes some time to respond to messages and give the appropriate thanks to everyone. “Yeah, I actually do have plans later on,” he says, finally confirming the rampant topic. “It’s why the stream is gonna be s—” Nero pauses, looking off camera where no one can see the door opening and you slipping inside with a smile and a finger up to your lips. “Gonna be shorter than usual…” he finishes distractedly. Of course, he immediately gets questioned on what he saw. “Oh, nothing,” he reads off the username in lieu of knowing the person’s actual name, “it was just a shadow in the corner of my eye.” The comments immediately take a turn into blaming the current dark themed game he’s been playing. “Nah.” Nero waves his hand, doing his absolute best to not react to, or watch, you carefully moving closer out of sight of the viewers. “What’s so scary about a nephilim traipsing through hell?” He moves his headphones back in place from resting on his shoulders, indicating that he’s readying to start playing again, still chatting and answering messages as he does so. “What’re my plans? Well…” Again he resists looking at you to keep up the illusion that he’s alone. “It’s a secret—” This time he can’t help but lock eyes with you, as you sink to your knees and slip under his desk away from the wiring; horror threatening to creep through his expression as your hands slide up his thighs.
When it becomes apparent that he’s too distracted by whatever he’s looking down at to read the chat that’s asking him what’s wrong, some viewers use the donation bot to grab his attention. “Is something going on?” the robotic voice asks, “You look like you see a ghost.”
“Uh… Nothing...my, uh, friend sent me a really bizarre meme…” Nero does his best to not audibly gulp when reading your lips that tell him to play the game. Ignoring the requests to share what was so weird that it would make him of all people pause, he nervously unpauses the game and begins again. Luckily it wasn’t in the middle of a fight, so he’s just moving the foul-mouthed protagonist along the hellscape when your fingers reach his hips. Nero clears his throat a little more loudly than necessary as he feels his belt being tampered with, as if he’s afraid his mic would pick up the sound.
Thankfully, you have the presence of mind to gently set it on the floor rather than dropping it.
He’s not dumb. He knows exactly what you’re up to, but he’s seriously torn on whether this is a game to see who would fold first; unsure if he’s supposed to end the stream to get his ‘surprise’ or if you’re going to indicate when you’re tired of waiting.
Nero plants his feet to keep his balance and to make sure he doesn’t lock his knees as you continue slowly teasing him. He can feel your lips against his lower stomach, your hands roaming over his thighs and hips and figures it’s a matter of will power. After all, he did promise that the stream would be ending rather soon, so— At least until he feels his zipper part and his pants sagging. Nero’s blood runs cold, leaning back to shoot you a look.
With a cheeky smile, you wink, mouthing the words, ‘Keep playing.’
Since chat thinks the downward gaze is just Nero checking his phone, it’s less suspicious as he straightens back to his full height, resuming moving the protagonist across the broken up bridge and through a narrow corridor where a giant writhing mass awaits. Clearly another boss and chat immediately begins hyping him up. Nero, however, is nervous as fuck and not because he thinks he’ll lose that fight on stream. He’s nervous of his own personal boss battle; bracing for it to begin at any moment.
They all watch the cut scene together, all equally amused at the uncultured banter and liberal Fuck You’s before transitioning to the fight. And, hey, so far, so good. He’s successfully maintained a straight face despite having kisses and the slight scratching of your fingernails continuously trying to distract him. But when he feels the swipe of a sudden wet warmth, Nero swallows so hard that he’s amazed the mic doesn’t pick up the sound. In the back of his mind, he tries telepathically reasoning with you.
You wouldn’t; not while the stream was still live; not in front of literally thousands of people who all have the ability to screencap and record him; not when the two of you have been so careful and taken so many strides to keep your private life out of his very public profession. You’re bluffing, he tells himself to quell the bubbling panic; baiting him to just end the stream right then and there, because there is no way in hell you—
Your hand slots against him, the base of his dick resting perfectly on the soft web between your forefinger and thumb.
—would ever—
Nero’s jaw clenches, looking like he’s concentrating at full capacity as warm breath tickles over him. And just as he begins giving his “it’s nearly time to sign off” speech to sneakily indicate that you’ve won, you can stop teasing now, he nearly chokes on his words.
Holding onto his hip to keep either one of you from jerking too suddenly, you’re only able to imagine what kind of face Nero is having trouble controlling as you pull him in to meet the back of your throat.
Chat collectively scolds him to drink some water as he sputters helplessly, doing everything in his power to keep the waver out of his voice and the strength in his legs as he purposefully leaves the game unpaused to create as much additional background noise for the viewers.
“I-I’m fine,” he says, unnecessarily clearing his throat yet again. “You all worry too much—!” Nero catches himself on his desk as you absolutely refuse to show any mercy. He can even feel the tip of your nose touching his lower stomach! “I just...got a leg cramp…”
The chat fusses at him to rest, or at least sit down for the remainder of the stream. And while tempting, he knows that would be a horrible mistake; so Nero braces himself against the desk again, rocking his hips forward as discreetly as he can manage under the guise of working the cramp out of his leg.
But you know him, and just how he likes being touched and treated all too well, and it doesn’t take very long at all for his knees to start trembling.
“Shit,” Nero curses seemingly out of nowhere, a hand reaching down to wind his fingers through your hair and pulls you close; not letting you back away. “Uhh...I, ah, just realized I’m gonna, uh...be late. Gotta end the stream here, guys.” He gives chat a few moments to get their final words and goodbyes in. “Thanks, everyone, for spending time with me and all the b-birthday wishes…!” Out of sight, no one can see how you dig your fingertips and nails into his hips in retaliation for him forcing his dick down your throat and holding you there.
Words fly by on the screen, far too many and too fast for Nero to ever hope reading any of it, so he just settles for a wave at the camera; everything sitting on it rattling as his palm slaps the desk, coupled with a loud gasp as soon as the stream has officially ended.
The hinge of your jaw aches by the time he lets you ease back, but it’s only a short-lived reprieve. Nero’s hand immediately adjusts on the back of your head, gripping tight and pulling you to meet the push of his hips. He is just as unmerciful as you had been, hardly even giving you enough time to suck in a quick breath before rolling his hips into a natural rhythm. You inadvertently claw at his thighs, the material of his pants protecting him as his other hand slots against the back of your head as well; the pull of his palms aligns perfectly with the forward motion of his hips.
Your fingertips dig into his hips again with enough pressure to bruise, but Nero doesn’t even seem to register it--if he feels it at all--over the frantic way he fucks your face, clearly chasing that tight, rolling feeling beginning to bubble up through him. His thighs tremble, tense and rigid, as he holds either side of your face, keeping you perfectly still; save for the slight movement his rocking hips cause.
Heat rushes the back of your throat in a sudden wave and it takes the remainder of your brain function to remember to swallow to keep from choking. Still unable to help coughing and taking a haggard gasp of air when he finally releases you, your head hangs for a moment as you try to catch your breath. Nero takes a few heavy steps backwards, practically collapsing into his nearby chair that rolls back when his weight abruptly drops onto it.
“Holy...fuck,” he pants, arms dangling limp at his sides. “What the hell…”
Your jaw still aches, and your throat tingles in an almost burning way, yet you still crack a smile at him. “Happy Birthday,” you rasp, wiping your chin with the back of your hand, and holding back laughter of how adorably perplexed he looks.
LOOK AT THE TIMESTAMP. A YEAR. A FUCKING YEAR i’m gonna cut my arms off
i want everyone to know that i rewrote this thing SO many times. i would get an idea and go to town then in the middle of it, get another better idea and start all over. did this at least 8 times i’m not even joking
eventually i settled on this, which is probably not the *best* idea out of the bunch, but i vibed the most with it so here
---
The feedback of clicking can barely keep up with the speed of your thumbs as you text. It’s only a few moments before you get a reply and you tuck your phone away; pulling out your laptop to pass the time--what better way than working. It’s strangely easier to get your edits done while away from the scrutinizing gaze of your coworker, following the guidelines of the lead photographer on each image before rendering and readying to send them in for review and revision when someone quietly slips into the seat across from you at the table. Wordlessly, he waits for you to acknowledge him, drinking from the glass of water that’d been preemptively ordered for him.
“You do know people tend to take lunch to get away from working, right?” The corner of his mouth quirks up into a charming smirk when your gazes meet.
“Sorry,” you sigh, “I was having trouble concentrating in the office.”
Now that Nero has joined you, the waitress comes back to the table to properly take your orders. It’s impossible to not notice the way she looks at him, how immediately smitten she seems to be over the blushy-giggly responses to everything he has to say. The way she sort of sways on her feet when he smiles his thanks at her gives her away even further as she floats off to go submit the orders.
It’s hard to swallow it most days. You’d known from the beginning people would look at him--stare, really--and immediately fall in love with him no matter where he was. You’d known getting involved with a model would be tricky as it’s his profession to be beautiful and desirable to any and everyone. But you wish you’d known just how messy it would be when that model was a coworker, and even more so when said coworker never seemed too keen on getting any deeper than that: i n v o l v e d.
You’d so easily agreed to keeping things casual; stupidly clinging to the reality that it allowed you to be close to him, to be the one to answer his late night calls, to be each other’s dirty little secret, though you were sure there were rumors flying around like mad back at Devil May Cry. It wasn’t unusual to see you being friendly with the models, but there were bound to be at least a few people who noticed that you obviously favored Nero.
You still had no idea what Nero wanted with you when he could have his pick of all the other models employed there, but you never questioned it; just waiting for the day he’d inevitably get bored of you and then all you’d be left with would be memories and a silently broken heart.
“You weren’t busy, were you?” You ask to fill the silence, knowing full well he wouldn’t have shown up to lunch if he was.
“Not particularly,” he answers distractedly, still preoccupied with his phone before finally pocketing the thing. “You got me out of another useless meeting at least.”
“Since when does hanging out for lunch supersede meetings?”
“It does when you have to urgently meet with the editor for some photo-related issues.” He flashes that damn smile, and you have to fight down the urge to react just like the waitress still.
“Oh,” you lean in on your elbow, “in that case, then I guess I should report that your ass looks great in that latest shoot.”
Nero adjusts the sunglasses sitting on top of his head, having the unmitigated audacity to look bashful as he chuckles quietly. Him. Someone who models--nude, at times--sitting there across from you looking like he’s ready to blush from a single compliment. “Thanks,” he scratches the bridge of his nose, finally able to bring his eyes back to yours.
“Have you heard any rumors?” You hate to bring it up, but it’s a necessary evil during most conversations since the two of you were trying to keep the involvement a secret.
“Nothing serious. Dante makes jokes about everyone hooking up, so I doubt he gets taken seriously.”
“Yeah, same,” you nod. “I have the other editor joking at me that I stare too much at your photos, but that’s easy enough to say I’m just focusing.”
“Stare too much, huh?”
You realize the blunder only after he echoes you, waving your hand as if to dismiss the idea as unimportant, “I have to, to be able to concentrate on what I’m doing, don’t I?”
“So you stare at pictures of Nico too, right?”
“Well, I--” You are mercifully saved by the return of the waitress. She delivers the food, refills both drinks, takes a moment to (what you’re sure she’s certain is subtly) flirt with Nero, and then disappears again. At the first opportunity, you hook a foot against the back of his ankle, waiting for his eyes to flick up before speaking. “I’m free after the office closes tonight. How about you?” There is no mistaking the intention in your voice.
His eyes hood, smirk immediately growing wicked as he regards you across the table and not outwardly reacting to the tip of your foot slowly creeping up his leg. It’s very rare for either of you to blow the other off, but the quiet worry still grips the back of your throat until Nero finally nods.
The day drags on so slowly after that. Everything takes forever and the clock moves at an agonizing crawl. When you feel like you’ve been sitting at your desk for at least six hours, you’re horrified to realize that it’s only been forty-five minutes. Your coworker had even threatened you, saying if you sighed loudly just one more time, she was going to lock you in a storage closet.
Luckily, it never came to that. She was called away to assist with another shoot, leaving you to sigh and grumble as much as you pleased till finally--FINALLY--the world’s longest workday was coming to an end. And with continued fortune, it wasn’t too terribly long afterwards that there came knocking from your door.
Nero barely had time to even greet you before being pulled right inside and immediately thereafter finding himself crammed up against that same door. He’s not even sure how you had the time to actually close it, but nevertheless, his hands instinctively roam over your back, pulling you against him and encouraging your behavior.
If there ever was a time you wished for time to grind to a halt, it was always these moments. It never seemed like enough time, even when the two of you weren’t even close to passing out despite the sun beginning to peak over the horizon. You always wanted more of his time, of him. And each time you suggested he should stay, just to prolong being with him, even though you know he would decline each invite. It was a ritual at this point, when you stretched out; fingertips grazing over the back of his hips as he sat at the foot of your bed, leaning down to lace up his boots.
“You should stay the night,” you say, words exaggerated and pitched from stretching.
Nero looks back at you like he always does and quietly snorts before resuming getting dressed.
“I’m serious,” you persist, as if tonight was really going to be different. “Pretty thing like you walking home at night alone isn’t safe, you know.” You can hear the quiet laugh under his breath as he looks around to locate his shirt, which is somehow miraculously all the way across the room. Still wordless, Nero gets up and crosses over to retrieve it. He only pauses once you’re sitting up and looking as serious as you can manage. “Name one good reason why you can’t.”
That confused face is adorable, yes, but him just standing there looking stunned isn’t quite the answer you were hoping for.
“Even if it’s just that you don’t want to would be good enough…” You sink back a bit, letting the headboard support most of your weight.
The look he’d been giving is smoothed over rather quickly by that normally smug look he so often gives the camera. “What’s with you tonight?”
‘Tonight.’ You could bust out laughing right then and there at the irony. It’s always been obvious that Nero would rather avoid a relationship, but maybe if you just let him know blatantly that you’ve had real feelings for him would give him something to consider. It could also ruin everything you have going on with him and possibly even make things awkward at work...a good reason to never cross such boundaries with coworkers. “I’ve never been joking before, but… I like you, Nero.”
He pauses again, hands frozen in place while adjusting the hem of his shirt around his hips.
“I know you don’t want anything ‘serious’ and I’m not trying to coerce you or anything. I’ve really liked you for a while now...but getting closer to you is impossible if you don’t let me.”
His hands slowly lower to his sides as he silently watches you from across the room.
You laugh, even if only to dispel the awkward silence forming around you. “Hah...sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have brought this up…”
“Who…” He pauses again, as if he’s taking a moment to consider what he wants to say. “Who told you I don’t want anything serious?”
“No one--don’t worry, I haven’t been asking anyone anything. It’s just what I’ve noticed from how you keep your distance. Emotionally.”
During your explanation, Nero had wandered over, hovering there at the edge of your bed. He sighs your name, hand scratching at the back of his head, “Sorry, I--”
“No, no it’s fine. I shouldn’t have said anything, and I don’t want you to think I’m gonna treat you any differently now.”
“That’s not what I’m apologizing for.” He rounds the corner, sitting quite near. “I didn’t want to say anything either. I’m just so used to people only caring about how I look, or wanting to get say they’re with a model. Like that somehow makes me different than other people.”
“Wait.” You put a hand up, requesting silence for as long as it takes you to process his words. “Please tell me you’re saying what I think you’re saying…”
“I’m sorry I thought you were one of those people… But you always talk about my appearance and the photos…”
“I--” Well, he had a point. You knew for a fact that the majority of your commentary to him was usually about how good he looked or about a photoshoot that captured the perfection of his build. “I just thought...models liked hearing that kind of stuff…”
“Oh, so you were lying?”
“Of course not! It’s true I think you’re the most attractive bastard to ever grace the earth, but I mean… I also see you as more than that, you know!?”
Nero can’t help the laughter, short-lived as it may be, “I’m joking.”
“Wait.” You point an accusatory finger at him. “If you thought I was just flirting with you because you’re hot, then why even hook up with me?”
“Because…” This time it’s his turn to blush and stammer, taking a few seconds to regain his composure. “Because I like you. And I wanted an excuse to be around you.”
“Oh my god. I can’t believe we were doing the exact same thing… This is so ridiculous.”
Nero scratches the side of his nose, waiting for your own laughing fit to subside. “So, uh, is that offer to stay the night still good?”
and oof i’m cringing at that ‘4 months ago’ time stamp...but i gotta get over that bc most of the queue has that very same remark ._.
---
Dante
While he’d be able to remain mostly calm throughout the ordeal, everyone would still be able to note the intensity he fights with when realizing the truth of the situation. He’s known for playing around with his enemies, but even Dante just seems to want the creature dead and out of the way of getting you back home safely.
Once there, he’s going to be hardpressed to be away from you for too long. Jobs he’d normally take a few days on are done within hours. Jobs that would take almost no effort, he would pass along to the others if it meant being away for too long.
He’s not going to mother-hen you, but Dante is going to check in on you quite frequently; especially if you’re unconscious. He’ll be a little more at ease if you’re awake and responsive, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to be any less worried about your state of health. Even after you’re able to get up and about on our own again, Dante is still going to quietly keeping an eye on you for signs of any permanent damage you may have sustained and are trying to hide.
His hope is, of course, that things return to normal and that your lives can go back exactly how they were before. If not, however, he is more than prepared to step in whenever necessary.
Nero
He’s going to be on a rampage from start to finish. From the moment you go missing to the moment he cuts you free and holds you protectively to his chest, he’s going to be restless and undeterred. Woe be to the things that are in his way to get to you.
Nero has a habit of being a bit unapproachable when he’s that upset. He’ll blame himself for the misfortunes that have befallen you. Blame himself for letting it happen; for not being able to protect you.
He’ll call off all unnecessary activities and jobs to stay with you in your time of healing. Staying in bed with you without sleep to ensure your safety; to make sure you know without a doubt that he is right there whenever you need him. The first words out of his mouth once you’re coherent again are, “Forgive me,” along with promises to never let anything happen to you again. He wants you to be able to live your life again without fear and trauma, and will do his damnedest to ensure that.
Even if you make it crystal clear that you bear no resentment or blame him in any way, Nero is still going to take it upon himself to quadruple his efforts to protect you despite your insistence that you’re fine.
V
He’d have a hunch to your predicament. He knows many things and keeps many more to himself, so it wouldn’t take him quite by surprise to find out your power was being used as a core. Confirmation would make him rally; push harder--and probably past his own limits--to rescue you, even if that means letting others handle the dirty work so that he may tend to you.
V is at your side constantly, reading to distract himself and stay calm, sometimes aloud in a quiet voice to you while you rest; one hand over yours as he does so. He won’t necessarily put his entire life on hold--there is still work to be done--but any free time he has will be devoted to being at your side.
He waits till you’re able to open your eyes and speak to pass judgment on just how bad off you may be after such an ordeal. He knows having your life force and energy drained shouldn’t cause any permanent ailment, but it’s not something he’s willing to leave up to chance either. V is willing to pamper you a bit if you let him, but overall he just wants to see you happy and healthy again.
Vergil
The anger he feels is palpable and none are safe from it. His temper would be at it’s absolute worst until you are safe back home and he’ll be ruthlessly unstoppable until he achieves that goal.
A majority of his time is spent watching over you as you heal; the other part of his time is spent on jobs and warding off the nosy others who would try and encroach on his or your space.
The relief he’d feel at the sight of your opening eyes would be immeasurable, but that wouldn’t stop him in the least from (gently, for now) chastising you for such foolish mistakes as to let yourself fall into such danger. He is, of course, not actually angry at you, but the fear of potentially losing you and the guilt of not stopping it causes him to lash out a bit.
He would hope by now you would understand the way his mind works. Vergil isn’t looking to upset you, in fact, he’s, in his own twisted way, expressing his alleviation that you’re finally awake enough to argue back at him.
Once things have calmed down once again, Vergil will wait till the most prone moment to truly express his gratefulness for your strength to pull through.
The sensation of suddenly falling forward is terrifying. It didn’t matter that you expected it; felt the binds holding you back and suspending you in air slip away once cut. You know better than to fear it, turning your body as you go forward and letting gravity take you. In only a few moments you hear the scuffling of boots, metal clanging as it hits the ground, and feel arms suddenly around you stop the fall. Perfectly placed, and you just as perfectly fit in his hold; one arm at your back, the other beneath your legs as he uses his thighs to brace your weight. You hang there at first, gathering the energy to turn your face towards him.
“Sorry I took so long…” he murmurs gently to you, voice so full of regret and simultaneous hope. “Are you okay?”
Ever so slowly, you’re finally able to blink your eyes open as you breath in, mustering what strength there was to make the slightest of noises at the sight of your savior. You’re still sluggish, but the intent is clear as you lean forward in his embrace; arms curling around him to hold him just as close.
Nero holds you even tighter, pulling you as flush to him as possible and minding to not hurt you as he brokenly whispers apologies. It takes a few moments to convince him you’re okay, and everything is fine, but eventually he lifts you up with him as he stands. “Let’s get outta here,” he says. “Hold on tight.”
You know it’s code for a precursor to something potentially dangerous--well, dangerous if any normal person tried it. But for Nero, daring feats almost seemed like a hobby as he crashed through the colored crystal. He holds you tightly as he sticks the landing, triumphantly rising to his full height as he totes you further away from the crumbling ruins until he deems it a safe enough distance to set you down.
Your feet touch the concrete slowly, hand lingering on his arm as your knees wobble a bit before you finally take a moment to look around. You intake a sharp little breath at the sight, “The city’s a wreck…” Nero hums his agreement as you turn back to him, “I...I am still alive, right?”
“Yeah,” Nero takes a step forward, closing the gap between you again, “we both are.” The smile melts away from his face as he brings his right hand forward, blue light casting a glow on his chest, “If I’m a demon, and not a human anymore… Is this what you want?”
His hand lowers again, but before he can tuck it behind his back like before, you reach out and grab it, lifting it back up and holding it in both your own. “You’re you...and it’s you I want to be with…” You watch as his eyes flit back and forth between yours as he listens carefully. “I don’t know anyone who is as human as you are.”
Nero smiles, reaching into his pocket before lifting his hands to the back of your neck. He fiddles with something for a moment, fastening the necklace around your neck then settling his hands on your shoulders.
Your heart skips as his gaze drops to your lips. He leans in, and so do you; both dramatically slow and just before your lips press to his, you’re unable to help yourself from uttering his name, “Nero…”
“CUT!!” A voice erupts through a speaker and you and Nero step away from one another. Well...he steps away; you do everything in your power to not jump as far as possible.
Various lights turn on, illuminating the elaborate scene even further and rumblings of mumbles break out here and there as crew members approach you both to make sure everything is still perfect.
“Y/N…” that same voice speaks again, and you shield your eyes as you try to see past the light that is directly pointed at you. “You can’t mix his real name in with the script…”
Heat breaks out all over your face--you hadn’t even realized you’d said his actual name instead of his character’s name. And you couldn’t admit it was due to being ‘caught up in the moment’ either… Bravely, you steal a glance at Nero, who is leaning down to let the makeup artist touch him up. “S-sorry… I wasn’t thinking…”
“Let’s reset everyone,” the director announces. “And someone bring Dante’s ass out here, please! We might as well run his lines in this scene.”
“Sorry, Nero,” you say to him once you two are being ushered off set so the crew can repair the rig that will suspend you in the air and the crystal ‘wall’ Nero is meant to bust through.
“Don’t sweat it,” he says with a shrug, but is unable to help himself from taking a jab. “Is ‘Johnny’ really that hard to remember though?”
“It’s--” You fumble for an explanation, preferably one that wouldn’t bring attention to the fact that you were very aware of whose lips were mere millimeters away from yours only a moment ago. “It’s not that! My mind just went blank…”
He offers you a smile, it’s much more relaxed and friendly than the totally amorous smile he’d been directing at you earlier while in character. “I get what you mean...kissing scenes are always kinda…” he gestures with his hand, clearly trying to find the appropriate word and you nod in agreement.
“Yeah...exactly.” Definitely not because all you could think about was kissing Nero for real, and not under the pretenses of make believe. All this time, for every scene you’ve had with him, you have received nothing but praise for how ‘realistic’ you’re able to make it seem. How ‘believable’ and ‘natural’ you make being in love with him look.
“Maybe we should just refer to the cast as character names so it sticks,” he suggests with a laugh.
“Wouldn’t that be grand,” you busy yourself with pretending like you’re trying to decide if you want juice or water, “then I’d probably start calling you ‘Johnny’ every day onward.”
“Heh, it could be a nickname for all anyone knows.”
“I like your name way better,” you say quietly, half hoping he doesn’t even hear you.
He, unfortunately does, and shoots back just as casually, “Y/N’s not a bad one either.”
It takes all your willpower not to let the heat rise to your face.
“Maybe I should add a line of your character’s name in the mix? Help remind you?”
“Ah, that might actually help…” Nothing like the guy you have a crush on calling you someone else’s name.
“Worth a shot,” he says with a shrug, downing a cup of water.
It wasn’t too long before everything was ready and the following scene went on perfectly. Having Nero calling you ‘Kyrie’ really did put your mind into focus and not a single mistake was made from then on out.
“That’s a wrap on Y/N, folks, good job today--” the director announces, but you drown him out. It’s bittersweet. Everyone’s happy and congratulating each other and making plans to celebrate being ahead of schedule.
You should be happy as well, but you find yourself hiding twinges of sadness. You know this isn’t the end of the world, and it’s possible you’ll work again with Nero in the future; especially if this series continues. But when’s a role like this one going to come along again--one situating you as his love interest?
“Hey.” You turn at his voice, watching Nero approach from the group he’d just been part of. “You headin’ out?”
“Yeah...probably not to the party, though. I’m a little tired,” you add lamely, knowing if anyone should be tired, it’s him. Because of you, he had to run those stunts while carrying you twice.
“I hear ya,” he smiles, “you probably got used to Kyrie not having many lines to suddenly having three pages in a single scene.” You nod, satisfied to let him believe the lethargy is work related. Silence falls between you, but before you can excuse yourself, he speaks up again. “Oh, by the way… That ending? You were…” He pauses for the right words, but finally settles on continuing, “The way you spoke and looked at me? Gave me chills.” Nero laughs it off, as if he knows he’s being ridiculous. “In all the years we’ve known each other and worked together, that was the first time I nearly broke character,” he laughs again.
“Considering Johnny is a lot like you...that’s quite a feat,” you laugh too. “What was it? Did I look too cringy or something?”
Nero shakes his head, “No, it was just… There was so much love behind, ‘I’ll wait,’ It kinda took me off guard.”
“Oh…” You laugh again, hoping he doesn’t realize how forced it is. “Sorry ‘bout that. Just trying to make it believable…”
“Hey, Nero! Y/N!” You both look at Dante shouting, “You two comin?”
“You’re not gonna get outta costume?” Nero chastises him, gesturing to his wardrobe as he crosses over to the older.
“Hell no,” Dante poses, “this jacket’s too cool.”
You express your apologies to them, saying you’re just going to head home after changing, and watch as the two walk away; murmuring as quietly as possible to yourself, “I’ll always wait, Nero…”
“H-hey...don’t be so rough with her…” Your hand reaches out reflexively, ready to take the guitar back if necessary.
“Chill out,” your friend sticks a foot out to keep you from closing in. “You’re always so wound up all the time over this guitar.”
You frown, trying to mind the overreacting your friend group is always accusing you of. ‘Just a guitar,’ they always say as they joke and jest at your expense for being so overprotective of an inanimate object. “You’d understand if you had anyone--anything that meant a lot to you.”
“Where’d you say you got it from again?” They strum a few chords and fiddle with the tuners again, “Family heirloom?”
“No--” you swallow against your dry throat, trying to string together a cohesive, and convincing, statement. “It was given to me by someone…”
“Oh,” the smile on their face grows, “consolation to being dumped, huh?” They erupt into laughter at your expression; deeming their theory correct and moving on before even giving you the chance to defend yourself.
After a few more minutes of your friend manhandling your guitar, you finally wrestle it away to properly tune it; unable to stand hearing the out of tune notes any longer.
“What made you take up guitar anyway?” they ask, “You never played back then.”
“Just...picked it up.” The sounds the guitar makes when you strum it are marvelous; almost as if the instrument is singing. Of course, your friend notices the change immediately, and you have to explain that they were so out of tune, it was impossible to get a good sound.
Yet, when you pass the guitar back, the sound is dull and muted. You offer to teach them some other time--it is getting late after all. It takes some doing, but you successfully dodge their prying questions and finally get them out the door. You wave goodbye, close the door, and don’t even flinch when a pair of arms snake around your torso.
Warm breath ghosts over the back of your neck, “It’s not like you to let someone put their hands all over me. It felt kind of...naughty.”
“I wanted to test something,” you turn, returning the gesture of slipping your arms around her as well.
“Oh?” She brandishes the curve of her fangs with her smile, “And what would that be?”
“Proof,” you lean in, lips pressing against her shoulder and slowly making a steady path up her neck.
“Of?” Her head tilts back the higher up her neck your kisses crawl until your lips are brushing.
“You only sing for me.”
Nevan chuckles from the back of her throat, making the sound intensely more sultry than it had any business being. “Well it does take a certain level of skilled fingers to play my favorite tune.” Her hands smooth up your arms and neck before she presses you against the closed door, “I hope you’re in the mood to play some more, sugar.”
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lol so i don’t expect this to get any attention what-so-ever but uh....Nevan, amirite??😳
ಥ﹏ಥ oh lort we are soft in this chili’s tonight @rodentsunite
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Slow days suited you just fine. Not only was the reprieve from rushing emergencies highly welcomed, but the fact that Dante got to stay in and relax was always a plus. It started off as normal; the devil hunter at his desk waiting for a call or a walk-in. Your daily tasks beginning to dwindle as you completed each one. Dante eventually kicked his legs up, zoned out to the sound of the broom’s methodical sweeping motions.
It took a few tries to snap him out of his thoughts. “Huh??”
“I said I’m going to the market. Do you want anything?”
Dante blinked a little owlishly up at you, trying to determine how long ago you’d stopped sweeping. “Nah, I’m good,” he offers you a crooked smile, sinking down in his chair as if it was more comfortable that way.
Your back ached just looking at him sitting so haphazardly, but let him be.
It was getting dark by the time you returned; bags hanging off your arms and prepared to swat the magazine off Dante’s face to ask him to help you carry the rest in. The pitch-black of the office made you pause, however, figuring he’d gotten a call while you were away and set the bags down with a sigh before flicking the lights on. So much for spending the evening together--you paused again.
There are his desk still sat Dante, but unlike every other time of passing out from boredom, he sat exactly as you had left him. Slumped in what had to be a painful way, arms loosely crossed over his ribs, eyes distant and troubled, expression worn and dejected. You called out to him, but there was no response; he didn’t even seem to hear you.
In all the time you’ve known him, you can’t recall ever seeing Dante look so absolutely tired.
“Dante…” you try again once reaching his side, but he doesn’t respond until you put a hand on his shoulder.
“Going to the store?” he asks, voice softer than he means for it to be.
“I’ve...already been…”
“Oh.”
You don’t ask him what’s wrong, already knowing his life has been long and arduous. It would almost feel like insulting him to ask such a thing. Without a word, you curl your arms around his head, gently pulling him to rest against your chest. He shifts in his seat to do so, listening to your heartbeat intently. “I’m so grateful for you.”
You feel Dante try to sit up, but you hold him against your chest.
“I’m so grateful for you. The people you help. The things you do for everyone else.” His silence continues. “It’s okay to stop, Dante. It’s okay to be tired.”
He shifts again.
“I’ll take care of you.”
Dante’s laugh is a little dry as he finally curls his arms around you to hug you close. When you kiss the top of his head, he tilts his head back to look up at you and immediately receives a kiss on his forehead. He laughs again, the sound much lighter than before; small smile creasing the corners of his mouth not forced this time. It prompts you to lean in and kiss him properly.
“You’re too good to me,” he murmurs against your lips before pulling you down in his lap and hugging you close as a child might a teddy bear after a particularly terrifying nightmare. His head rests against your chest again, once again using the calm thrumming of your heartbeat to steady his own.
“Why don’t we skip dinner and get right to dessert? You won’t even have to lift a finger,” you say, slipping your fingers through his hair.
Summary: While things in life are never structured, Nero finally feels like he at least has a grip on the goings-on around him. You and Nero make a devastating devil hunting pair, but he still can’t drop old habits of wanting to protect you and eliminate all threats so there’s no chance of you being in danger. That’s exactly the cause of the confusing trouble he finds himself in now after a particularly slippery demon shows up, and shatters that idea of ever thinking he was in control of something as unpredictable as life.
Warnings: Fluff; AU; possibly angst? if you squint??
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The drive to Devil May Cry never took so long before, but thanks to this-Nero’s insatiable drive to hunt down even the smallest demon along the way, it’s almost midnight when the three of you are filing out of the RV and into Dante’s office.
“Why am I not surprised,” Nero scoffs as he strides into the room, kicking papers, and cans, and a wayward pizza box out of his path along the way. “Still a slob no matter where he is.” He doesn’t go into detail about how Dante’s home office usually ends up looking like this when his aunt goes on one of her business trips; the lack of photos of her and his cousin seems to quickly tip him off that Dante doesn’t have a similar lifestyle in this dream world.
