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bluecherrypawn · 6 days ago

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Devils May be Cats? Ao3Ver.

Four of a Kind [MasterList]

Chapter 4 ✧₊‧˚⁀➷ Chapter 5

The gold one sat like a queen at the corner of your blanket, tail curled neatly around her paws. The black one didn’t sit at all—she prowled in tight, slow circles, glancing at you, at Dante, at Vergil, then back again, like she was assessing the perimeter for threats. You tilted your head. “You guys sure don’t act like normal cats.” Vergil didn’t respond. Dante flopped onto his side like this was completely normal. You decided to roll with it.

Out came the extra treats from your bag. A couple of the good ones are soft and fishy. You offered them on your palm. “Peace offering?” The black cat eyed your hand like it might explode. The gold one approached, deliberate and slow, then took a treat without ever breaking eye contact. Her gaze was unsettling, but not unfriendly. “Right… so I guess that makes you the bold one,” you said.

Missy, as you’ve decided as a temporary name, eventually caved too, taking a piece and backing up immediately after, still watchful. You let out a slow breath. “Okay. Four cats. This is fine. Totally manageable.” Dante meowed, tail flicking. The walk home was an awkward balancing act involving two carriers, one reusable shopping bag turned makeshift cat sack, and Dante trailing behind you like a smug little knight escorting a royal procession. You got a few stares, but honestly, you were past caring.

Once inside, all four cats exploded out of containment like released prisoners. Missy skulked into a corner, sniffing every inch of the furniture like it owed her money. Gold climbed directly onto your bookshelf. Dante dashed for the kitchen. Vergil hopped back onto the couch and loafed like he’d never left. “Okay,” you huffed, setting your keys down, “I think I officially qualify as a cat lady.”

You filled the bowls, scattered some toys, and flopped on the floor among them, feeling oddly content. Dante eventually returned from his kitchen adventures, hopping up beside you and resting his chin on your knee. You scratched behind his ears with a tired smile. “So who exactly did you drag home, huh?” None of them answered, of course. Not with words. But they all watched you.

All four of them.

The room quieted after she left. Trish cleaned a paw on the windowsill. Lady had taken a post near the heater, lounging but clearly listening. Dante curled into a crescent shape on the rug, his eyes half-lidded but alert. Vergil sat on the armrest, spine straight, gaze far away. No one spoke for a long while, until Trish finally broke the silence. “So. Are we going to talk about it now?”

Dante grunted. “Define it.” “Where we are. What happened. The fact that we’re cats.” She gestured broadly with her tail. “Take your pick.” Lady didn’t look up. “You two disappeared into the Underworld. Then suddenly bam. You’re in a living room. In fur coats.” “I didn’t exactly have time to text,” Dante said, flicking his ear. “Things got weird down there. Time doesn’t work right. We fought, kept moving forward… and then—this.”

Trish’s eyes slid to Vergil. Vergil’s voice was quiet. “There was no exit. Not for a long while.” More silence. Then, hesitantly, he added, “Is… Nero, alright?” He didn’t exactly get to spend time with his own son as himself, only V, his human side was able to at least got to know him more. Lady finally looked up. “He’s fine,” she said. “Still loud. Still reckless. Still trying too hard.” Dante smirked. “So, still Nero.”

“He took your absence hard,” Trish said, more gently. “Both of you.” Vergil’s eyes flickered, but his face stayed unreadable. “He’s been with Kyrie,” Trish continued. “And Nico. Keeping busy.” “He’s grown stronger,” Lady added. “Tougher.” Vergil’s ears twitched. “Good.” “You’d like him now,” Dante said. “He’s less annoying. Mostly.” Vergil shot him a look. Trish’s tail thumped the sill. “I don’t know what brought us here. Or why we’re like this. But I’m glad.”

Lady gave a noncommittal grunt, but her eyes softened. “It’s better than thinking you two were gone for good.” Dante stretched lazily. “Yeah, well. I’m not ready for the whole ‘emotional reunion’ thing, but… It’s good to see you guys again.” No one responded right away. The room settled into a warm kind of stillness that only comes after long silences and words that mattered.

Outside, the wind picked up.

Inside, the past lingered. But for the moment, it stayed quiet.

A sudden knock at the door jolted the peace. It wasn’t loud, just two quick raps and a heavy thump like something had been dropped and abandoned. You frowned, rising from the couch, and peered out the peephole. “Another package?” you muttered. Dante followed you like a little shadow, his claws clicking faintly on the tile. Trish and Lady didn’t move, but their ears twitched. Vergil stayed seated, gaze following you.

You opened the door to find a sizable box sitting on the mat, the cardboard damp around the corners. “…Dad, are you serious? These boxes just get bigger and bigger,” you said to no one in particular. Once you hauled it inside and opened it with your keys, the contents nearly made you laugh. Inside was a brand-new copy of Devil May Cry 4 (Special Edition), still shrink-wrapped. Beneath it: two T-shirts, a glossy hardcover artbook, and of course, two more Asmus figurines. There also seem to be some shrink-wrapped plushies? They look customized and don’t look to be average merch.

You pulled out the first figure: a fierce-looking woman with a missile launcher across her shoulder, sculpted mid-action with a smirk. The box read LADY. The second was all gold and black, striking and sleek, her likeness unmistakable even in plastic. TRISH, it said. You blinked. “Huh.”

You glanced across the room. The new cats are sleek, serious, and poised even while lounging like royalty. You turned the Lady figure toward the dark-furred cat. “Alright, now this is just turning into a weird naming tradition.” She narrowed her eyes at you. “And you,” you said to the gold one, “you look like you’d have her attitude.” Trish tilted her head. You laughed to yourself, shaking your head. “I named those two Dante and Vergil just for kicks,” you said aloud, gesturing toward the brothers, Dante now perched like a gargoyle on the coffee table, and Vergil judging you silently from the back of the couch.

“But you two…” You turned back to the girls. “...you really do look the part.” You reached over and scratched behind Missy One’s ear. “Lady.” She leaned into it, just for a second, before looking away like she regretted it immediately. “And you’re definitely Trish,” you said, pointing to the gold one, who gave you a single slow blink like a feline mic drop. You stood up with a sigh. “Okay, four cats. Four characters. If any more cats show up, should I name them after another DMC character? Am I making this a tradition now?”

You didn’t ponder on it too much, proceeding to set the game case down and slid the disc into your console. “Let’s see what Nero’s all about.” A little while later, you sat curled on the couch, controller in hand, a small audience of judgmental cats watching the screen. Vergil sat at your feet like a stone statue. Dante perched behind your head on the backrest, occasionally peering down at the buttons. The opening cutscene of Devil May Cry 4 played, Nero crashing onto the screen in a blur of attitude, rebellion, and very familiar white hair. Lady sprawled near the TV, watching the flashing colors like she was planning something. Trish had claimed the arm of the couch, perfectly regal, tail curled neatly around her paws.

“Oh, he’s dramatic,” you muttered, watching him flip and kick and argue with authority in the opening mission. “I like him already.” Trish hopped onto the armrest beside you. Her golden eyes locked onto the screen like she was watching a memory she didn’t expect to revisit. Lady, stretched along the carpet, lifted her head with a slight grunt when Nero’s voice first came through the speakers. She gave Dante a look. Dante gave a single short meow. You didn’t understand it, of course, but to him it meant: “Kid sounds like he’s got something to prove.”

Vergil remained at your feet, unblinking, watching every sword swing with almost surgical focus. His ears only twitched slightly when Nero yelled, again, about Kyrie. You glanced down. “He’s just intense, huh?” Vergil flicked his tail. You fought through the Fortuna Castle mission with minimal damage, slowly adapting to Nero’s style. You were getting the hang of the sword-revving mechanic, and it was just satisfying enough to keep you from rage-quitting.

Meanwhile, the cats moved in their own way around you.

Dante meowed again. You took it as a cheer. Really, he was saying, “Nice combo. I couldn’t have done it better. Actually, wait, I could.” Lady crept closer to the TV screen every time a demon appeared, tail twitching at the flickering motion. Her meow sounded unimpressed. You giggled. “Yeah, I know. The camera’s kinda wonky.” Trish let out a low, thoughtful purr when Gloria appeared onscreen. She eyed her alter ego with something halfway between pride and secondhand embarrassment.

You tilted your head. “Hey, she kind of sounds like you,” you told Trish, laughing. “You guys both have that ‘don’t mess with me’ energy,” Trish responded with the slowest of blinks and a short, ladylike meow. But to her, it was to compliment you, “Good eye.” You barely made it through the boss fight against Berial without dying—pausing once to Google how the hell to dodge his flaming blade. Dante chirped loudly at your first parry, his tail fluffed like he was reliving the fight himself.

You laughed. “You’re getting really into this, huh?” Then came the Kyrie scenes, Nero calling out her name in varying degrees of desperation. You squinted at the screen. “This guy’s entire emotional range is either yelling at demons or yelling Kyrie,” you muttered. “Peak sibling energy, right?” Vergil actually sneezed. You turned. “Bless you?” He looked away, stoic. But if he could talk, he might’ve said, “That’s not his sister.” Your first glimpse of the Yamato in-game made you pause, wide-eyed.

“Ohh wait. This sword looks just like…” You turned your head slowly to Vergil, who just so happened to be stretching at that very moment, front legs forward, tail flicking, silver fur practically glowing. You stared at him. He stared back. You blinked. “Nah. Too weird.” You played for a few more minutes, fingers tightening as the story began to pull you deeper in something about Nero’s anger, his desperation to protect someone he loved, started to hit a little too close to home.

You were maybe forty minutes in when you paused the game, eyes wide. “Wait a second… this kid, Nero, he’s got silver hair. Blue jacket. And he’s angsty.” You turned to look at Vergil, who looked back at you with that unreadable stare. “Nah,” you said quickly. “No way.” You clicked your tongue and shut off the TV. “Nope. We’re not going down that rabbit hole.” Your stomach growled. “Alright, guys,” you announced, standing up and stretching. “Dinner time.” Dante meowed in agreement, hopping down immediately like he’d been waiting for that line. Trish leapt down as well, graceful and silent, already headed toward the kitchen. Lady followed with one loud command, saying, “You better feed us too.” Vergil remained behind a second longer, gaze flicking back toward the paused image of Nero. He didn’t say anything. But he didn’t look away, either.

As you headed into the kitchen, four cats followed, silent shadows trailing at your heels. If they exchanged glances as they walked, you didn’t see it. But they did. Because this strange little world of yours was starting to feel like something dangerously close to home.

You headed into the kitchen, trailed by a parade of paws. Dante trotted ahead like a self-appointed leader, tail high. Trish stayed close behind you, her steps measured, head held as if she were still on some grand stage. Lady kept a strategic distance, eyes scanning corners like she half-expected an ambush.

Vergil was last to enter, silent as ever, slipping into the room like a shadow. You pulled open the cupboard, the faint rattle of kibble instantly earning you a chorus of meows—Dante’s sharp and impatient, Trish’s low and almost conversational, Lady’s more like a demand than a request. You smiled at the chaos.

“Alright, alright. One at a time.”

Bowls were filled in quick order: Dante practically dove in, scarfing down like the food might vanish if he blinked. Lady ate with swift, precise bites, pausing occasionally to glance over her shoulder. Trish took her time, savoring each mouthful. Vergil, as usual, didn’t rush. He stepped up to his dish only when the others had settled, eating with the same controlled grace he carried everywhere.

“See, you’re all civilized in your own way,” you mused, opening a can of soup for yourself.

A chorus of meows rose in response. You decided to pretend they were agreeing with you.

You chuckled and reached for the fridge. “And since it’s dinner for everyone…” You pulled out your own leftovers, the scent of garlic and soy filling the air. Halfway through your food, you glanced down and saw Dante sitting at your feet, staring. The second you made eye contact, he chirped a short, sweet sound that might’ve been adorable if you didn’t know it was just a prelude to him pawing at your leg.

“No,” you said firmly.

Another chirp.

“No.”

Long, slow blink.

You groaned. “Fine. One piece. One.”

That, of course, was the cue for the others to appear. Trish hopped gracefully onto the chair beside you. Lady planted herself on the opposite side, pupils huge with expectation. Vergil stayed at the far edge of the table, pretending not to watch until you slid a morsel in his direction. He accepted it with a slow, deliberate bite.

You laughed under your breath. “You guys are terrible dinner guests. But… I guess I like the company.”

They returned to their bowls afterward, finishing the last of their meals. Dante ended up sprawled in the middle of the kitchen floor like he’d just won a feast-day competition. Lady perched by the window, scanning the yard as though she were on night watch. Trish padded back to the couch. Vergil lingered a moment longer, glancing at you before following.

You rinsed your dish, leaning against the counter for a second. The apartment felt fuller now, not just louder, but warmer. A/N:

Haha sorry I ghosted you guys, I went to get milk for the cats:P But anyways, if you guys didn't see my update on Tumblr I kinda experienced the Ao3 curse ig. and I think I went through a depressive episode, but that's just me assuming, i'm not diagnosed or anything "i think" only. Got no money to get diagnosed. But I'm back now! Weekly updates starting this week😊

#devil may cry #dmc dante #dmc vergil #dante x reader #vergil x reader #dmc #dmc lady #dmc trish #dmc4 nero #dmc4 #dmc x reader

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bluecherrypawn · 2 months ago

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Devils May be Cats? Ao3Ver.

Devil May Cry... A Lot [MasterList]

Chapter 3 ✧₊‧˚⁀➷ Chapter 4

It had been a week since the cats showed up—and since that first package arrived.

Since then, two more boxes had come, both just as bizarre. One had more Devil May Cry merch: posters, keychains, collector’s pins, and even a replica of the Rebellion sword made of actual metal. That one shocked you a lot with how realistic it was. It’s a good thing the edges were dull. You have kitties around the house! You don’t want them getting hurt by it... The second box? A brand new, unopened PlayStation 5 with a download code for Devil May Cry 5: Special Edition. Which is very convenient now, as you only have to wait for Devil May Cry 4.

You weren’t complaining. But you were starting to think your dad had a weird sense of timing. Today, you’d finally finished Devil May Cry 3: Special Edition. And now? Now, you were crying. Ugly crying. “I didn’t know it would be this sad!” you wailed, clutching a fuzzy blanket in one hand and two very patient cats in the other. “He just—he stabbed him! And then—” you hiccupped. “And he still tried to save him! Oh my God, they’re such messed-up brothers!”

The one sat tucked against your hip, whom you’d officially dub “Vergil” after the brooding plushie, wore an eternally grumpy expression. He didn’t struggle, even though your arm was draped around him. Occasionally, his tail flicked in mild judgment. The one mushed under your chin, “Dante,” purring despite the teardrops soaking into his fur. He didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he leaned in more when your sobs hit their peak.

“I just—why didn’t they talk to each other?” you sniffled. “Why is everything in this franchise emotional damage in leather pants?!” Vergil made a low, irritated mrrrrow as if he resented being grouped in with “emotional damage.” You blinked at him through tears. “I know, I know, you’re tough. But you have issues, my dude. You need therapy.” If a cat could look personally offended, this one absolutely did. As weird as it is talking to your cats like they’re the actual characters, it is so funny how they seemingly embraced the role and how often they keep meowing at you when you play or talk about DMC.

Dante yawned and gave your hand a comforting lick. You wiped your face with your sleeve. “Anyway, if anyone ever hurt you guys, I’d kill them. Just saying.” There was a pause. There was no response to that. Just the warmth of the little bodies pressed against you and the low hum of the TV menu looping in the background. Eventually, the sobs ebbed into sniffles, and the sniffles into soft, wet sighs. You leaned back, still bundled in your blanket, and closed your eyes. The cats stayed.

Then, quietly, a soft thud from somewhere deeper in the house. You froze. The cats went rigid, too, ears flicking toward the sound. Another thud. You sat up straighter. That tired feeling disappeared. “...Is someone here?” Vergil leaped from the couch, ready to throw paws with a ghost. Dante followed, bristling, tail low. You crept toward the hallway, peeking around the corner—and stopped.

The culprit? One of the empty shipping boxes tipped over onto its side. Its flaps fluttered lazily in the breeze from the cracked kitchen window. You exhaled. “Oh my God, it’s cardboard. I thought it was a demon or something.” Dante sauntered over and immediately climbed inside the box like he owned it, tail flicking triumphantly. Vergil sat beside it and stared as if trying to mentally will it to combust. You gave both of them a look. “You guys seriously need to stop acting like you’re cursed with tragic backstories.”

Vergil sneezed and walked off. Dante flopped inside the box, purring like he’d found his new throne. You returned to the couch, your tissues, and your blanket, grumbling softly. “I need to sleep before I play DMC 4. I don’t have it yet, but from what I’ve seen on the internet, there’s a new character in it. If this next guy is tragic too, I’m suing.”

You were asleep not long after that, still half-curled around the purring white fluffball on your chest. Your breathing evened out. The living room dimmed as the sun dipped below the trees outside. Vergil sat silently and still at the foot of the bed, watching you. He didn’t understand you. Not fully. You didn’t know who they were. You didn’t know what you were touching when you said you’d “kill for them.” And yet, you—this soft, tearful, chaotic human—you held them like they were precious. Like they mattered. Fiction or not.

Dante stirred on your chest, cracking open one eye. “She cries for us,” he murmured. Vergil didn’t answer right away. His gaze lingered on the damp spot on your shirt where tears had soaked through. “She grieves for fiction,” he said at last. “Doesn’t feel fake.” Silence again. Then a rustle outside the window. Barely a whisper, but enough. Vergil’s ears twitched. He turned his head slightly. Dante lifted his head, more alert now, but didn’t move. “What is it?” “Something.” Vergil narrowed his eyes. “Not here yet. But moving closer.” Dante sighed, settling back down. “Guess we’ll see soon enough.”

The next morning, you decided to finally leave the house. After being so wrapped up in demon-slaying melodrama and cat cuddles for a week, it felt weird. You needed groceries. And maybe sunlight. “Alright, boys, behave while I’m gone,” you said, grabbing your bag and keys. Dante meowed from his perch on the stairs. Vergil didn’t acknowledge you, which you were starting to take as his love language with his nonchalant ass. When the door shut behind you, the house fell quiet.

Vergil immediately leaped to the window, eyes scanning the empty street beyond. He sat there for a while, unmoving.

Watching.

Waiting.

Somewhere in the distance, something moved. It’s too subtle for the human eye. But not for his. Dante lay sprawled across the top of the couch, tail twitching. “Whatever it is,” he said, “it doesn’t feel like a threat.” Vergil replied, “That doesn’t make it harmless,” his voice low. Dante rolled to his side, purring softly. “Or maybe it’s just company.” Vergil didn’t respond. But he didn’t look away.

When you returned, arms full of groceries and a guilty pack of strawberries, you were back to humming the Devil May Cry 3 theme under your breath. You didn’t think you would get hooked on Devil May Cry in just a week, but life isn’t as dull as it was back then, especially with the cats. You pushed open the door, letting the late afternoon light flood in. “I come bearing snacks and emotional instability,” you announced. The cats came trotting out like you were Santa Claus. You unloaded everything in the kitchen, talking to them like usual, not even noticing how natural it had become.

Later, as you sat with a snack and opened your phone, you scrolled through DMC fan compilations. After playing Devil May Cry 1, your ‘for you page’ has been flooded with DMC content. One in particular caught your eye: “Vergil being a sad but hot disaster for 7 minutes straight.” You couldn’t help it. You laughed. “This is literally you,” you told the moody cat, pointing at the screen. He looked up at you like you had personally insulted his soul. “You even frown the same way!”

Dante hopped onto your lap, tail curling as he stared at the screen. “And this,” you pointed at Dante’s flashy combat montage, “This is your ego in action. Look at that. You would totally do a triple flip and then pose like that.” Dante meowed proudly. You swore it sounded smug. You looked at the two of them, now curled up on either side of you. “Y’know,” you murmured, stroking Dante’s head, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were them for real.” They didn’t move.

You just smiled to yourself.

A beat of silence passed, broken only by the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional purr from Dante. The sunlight through the windows had turned a mellow gold, stretching warm and lazy across the living room floor. You leaned back with a sigh, your phone slipping from your hand to rest on your chest. You let your eyes close briefly, fingers moving lazily, brushing through Dante’s fur. “You guys are weirdly comforting,” you whispered. “You don’t judge. You don’t tell me I’m wasting time. You just… hang out.” Vergil’s ear twitched but didn’t move from his perch at your side.

Another pause. This one is quieter. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a while.” For a moment, everything stilled. Then, a soft chirrup from Dante. It’s not quite a meow—more like acknowledgment. Maybe agreement. You cracked a sleepy grin. “Yeah. You too.”

After dinner and dishes—and a half-hearted attempt at folding laundry that ended in a pile of shirts and two cats using them as beds—you eventually wandered into your bedroom, trailing both cats behind you like ducklings. Vergil leaped up to his usual corner near the window, stretching with practiced grace before curling into a loaf. Dante sprawled across the foot of your bed like a protective lion. You barely noticed how your movements had changed over the week—how you now navigated your space with an unconscious awareness of your feline roommates.

You tucked yourself in and glanced toward them. “I’ve had you cooped up here at home for some time now,” you said softly. “I’m gonna take you guys out to the park tomorrow.” Dante flicked his tail in what you assumed was solidarity. You turned over and closed your eyes, the sound of purring lulling you into sleep.

The room had quieted. She was asleep—deeply this time. Her breathing was slow and even, the rise and fall of her back barely disturbing the blanket she had pulled halfway up. Vergil sat near the windowsill at first, keeping watch. The moonlight crept across the floor in silver strips. Dante was already curled at the foot of the bed, tail twitching in little bursts, caught in some dream that likely involved tuna, sunbeams, or swordplay. “She trusts us,” Vergil murmured. Dante’s ears flicked. “Mhm. I noticed.”

“She names us after ourselves. Talks to us like we belong here.”

“Well… maybe we do.” Dante rolled lazily onto his back, stretching until his paws pointed to the ceiling. “Better than the last time we were stuck somewhere.” Vergil’s gaze lingered on her sleeping face. Her arm twitched slightly in her sleep, reaching for the pillow, maybe, or reacting to a dream. “She is… unaware,” he said after a long pause. “Blissfully,” Dante replied. “Don’t wreck it.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

Silence again. Then, the soft sound of paws landing on a mattress. Vergil made his way toward the head of the bed, moving like a shadow, graceful and deliberate. He paused by her shoulder, studying her for a long beat. Then, with the barest sigh, he settled down on the pillow next to her head, his flank pressed lightly against her hair. “Soft,” he muttered under his breath, ears flicking once. Dante let out a pleased trill of amusement. “Oh no, you’re turning into a lap cat.” “Shut up.”

The moon climbed higher. Outside, the wind rustled the trees. Inside, three souls, one human and two not quite slept in the same rhythm.

And for that moment, everything was quiet. Everything was still.

And no one was alone for the first time in a long, long while.

The sun hadn’t fully risen when you stirred. The soft pink glow of dawn filtered through the curtains, brushing over your bed like a sleepy promise. You felt warmth pressed up on your legs—Dante, as usual, curled into the crook of your knees and a familiar weight by your head, where Vergil had apparently claimed your pillow in the night. You didn’t move right away. Instead, you breathed in the comfort of the moment: the gentle purrs, the silence of the early morning, the way your room felt safe in a way it hadn’t in a long time.

You whispered to no one in particular, “I think I’m actually happy.” A meow, soft, and barely audible, answered you. You weren’t sure which cat it came from, but it felt like an agreement.

You hadn’t been to the park in months. It was one of those quieter corners of town, visited mainly by dog walkers, joggers, or the occasional older couple feeding ducks at the pond. It was precisely the quiet space you’d hoped it would be when you stuffed the boys into their respective carriers. You weren’t sure why you expected Vergil to accept the indignity of a cat backpack, but at least Dante didn’t complain. Much. Both cats immediately stretched in the sunlight when you finally let them out onto the blanket you brought.

Dante rolled onto his back and kicked at the air, delighted by the smell of fresh grass. Vergil stalked the perimeter of your picnic blanket like he was assessing the terrain of a future battlefield. You laughed and sipped your iced coffee, flipping through a paperback novel you had no plans to finish. It wasn’t about reading. It was about being here, with them under the sun, just existing.

Some kids passed by. One pointed. “Look at that one! He looks so serious!” You followed the kid’s finger to Vergil, who glared at a goose. “Yeah,” you called out to the kid with a grin. “He’s very philosophical.” The mother chuckled and led the kids away. Dante meowed once, pleased with the attention. Eventually, Vergil came to sit beside you again, curling up with his back to the rest of the park like he couldn’t be bothered. You scratched behind his ears.

“You’re more of a diva than I thought,” you muttered.

He didn’t argue.

The breeze picked up a little, rustling the trees overhead. You finished your iced coffee, then leaned back on your elbows, sunglasses slipping slightly down your nose as you watched Dante stalk a particularly crunchy leaf with exaggerated stealth. You giggled. “Go on, buddy,” you said, waving him off. “Have your little adventure. Just don’t pick a fight with a squirrel.” Dante gave you a chirpy meow, his equivalent of “I got this,” and took off across the grass, tail high. You shook your head and turned to Vergil, who remained planted beside you, fur rippling ever so slightly in the wind.

Vergil hadn’t moved much, but his ear would occasionally twitch. Once or twice, he blinked slowly, cat talk for “I’m tolerating you.” You leaned back on your elbows and glanced at the other carrier. “You think Dante’ll come back?” Vergil made a low sound in his throat, somewhere between disinterest and vague disdain. You snorted. “Yeah, fair.”

“You really don’t like crowds, huh?” you asked softly, offering him a finger. He looked at it like it was a negotiation, then grudgingly, he was convinced and lowered his head and bumped it once against your knuckle. You smiled. “That’s a yes.” The two of you sat together in silence after that. Just the wind, the birds, and the occasional distant bark of a dog that never got too close. You pet Vergil behind the ears while reading the same paragraph of your book repeatedly, more focused on his rhythmic purring than any actual plot.

Dante had taken off the moment you’d given him the go-to wander off. At first, he rolled around in the grass, chased a butterfly that he had missed by several inches, and tried to swipe at a toddler’s juice box before you called him off. Eventually, he wandered toward a wooded edge of the park, where the trees offered shade and the smells were richer. He stopped suddenly. Two figures approached from between the trees. Cats like him, but not. The first was gold-furred, sleek, and impossibly elegant, with eyes that gleamed like amber lightning. The second had a darker furr, leaner, mismatched eyes and a low-slung posture that screamed, “Don’t mess with me.” Dante’s ears twitched. His tail flicked in disbelief. “No way.” The golden one narrowed her eyes. “...Dante?”

“Trish?” The scrappy one stepped forward, squinting. “What the hell—Dante?!” “Lady!” Dante trotted closer, fur bristling with relief and giddy disbelief. “You’re cats. You’re actually cats.” Lady tilted her head. “You’re one to talk.” Trish walked a slow circle around him. “This is... not how I imagined seeing you again.”

“Same. Except maybe with more limbs and less fur.” Lady narrowed her eyes. “Where the hell have you been? One minute, you’re diving into the Underworld with Vergil, and now you’re... purring?” “Okay, yeah, long story.” Dante plopped down, tail twitching. “You might want to sit for this.” They didn’t. “Fine. Look. Something happened when we closed the Qliphoth. Vergil and I didn’t come back. At least, not to our world. We landed here. Earth, technically, but like... someone-else’s-fictional-universe Earth.”

Lady blinked. “You mean, like... a different dimension?” “Sure. Multiverse. Timeline hiccup. Plot device. I don’t know.” Trish’s brows furrowed. “And this world... thinks we’re fictional?” “Yeah. We’re game characters here. Pop culture icons. People buy our merch. Posters, figures, body pillows—don’t ask.” Lady groaned. “You’re serious.” With a smile, he quipped. “I’ve been living with a girl who has no idea we’re real. She just thinks we’re cats with issues.” Trish laughed. “Well, she’s not wrong.”

Dante smirked. “I mean, it’s not bad. She feeds us, plays the games, cries over our tragic backstories. Vergil’s got a whole fanbase worshiping his brooding.” Lady muttered, “The world really is upside-down.” “But you remember everything?” Trish asked. “The Underworld? The fight? Everything before?”

“Clear as day. And I’ve been trying to figure out how we got here ever since.” Trish and Lady exchanged a look, one of shared, silent resolve. Lady sighed. “Guess we’re part of this now.” Dante tilted his head. “Wait... when did you guys show up?” Trish’s gaze turned distant. “About a week ago. Woke up in an alley. We’ve tried to make sense of it since looking for whoever turned us into cats.” Lady stretched, claws glinting in the sun. “And running around to see if we’d run to any of the crew.”

“Well, congratulations,” Dante said with a grin. “You found the pretty one.”

Lady flicked her tail against his nose. “We found the loud one.”

You were lying on your stomach, your phone held above the grass, as you scrolled through a DMC subreddit. Vergil remained beside you, unmoving, stoic as ever, except for the way he kept his tail barely touching your ankle like a tether. You sighed contentedly. “Think I’m gonna bring you guys here more often. You’re calmer out here.” Vergil blinked slowly in response. You smiled. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get mushy.” You glanced toward the treeline. No Dante. You sat up. “Okay, where is he?” As you were about to call for him, you spotted a flash of white trotting toward you through the grass. And he wasn’t alone.

Two cats followed in his wake, one gold, one dark. Both had a presence that made them look too poised for the average stray. “Huh,” you murmured. “New friends?” Vergil’s ears flicked. The three cats regrouped at the edge of your blanket. Dante looked smug. The newcomers stared at you with something unreadable in their eyes. You smiled and held out your hand. “Hey there.” Trish tilted her head. Lady narrowed her eyes. Neither moved. Dante meowed once.

And you, still blissfully unaware of the gathering storm, just chuckled and patted the blanket. “I guess I’m collecting strays now.” Vergil let out a sigh that sounded far too human.

A/N: I like to think that whenever Dante and Vergil are left alone they talk about all the stuff that's happened to them especially after seeing the human they're with play the games.

#dmc dante #dmc vergil #dmc lady #dmc trish #dante x reader #devil may cry #vergil x reader

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