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cerezzzita · 16 days ago

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Wish You a Devilish Christmas! ★ A Fluffy Fic with the Sparda Family

Hello, @queenmuzz! I am your Secret Santa for @dmc-secret-santas of this year! I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing and so sorry if the ending is kinda wonky, I managed to finish it all today and didn't had much time. I, myself wish you all a Devilish, Merry Christmas!

1) Pandoro is an Italian type of bread, culturally and usually made on Christmas, covered in sugar, tasting like vanilla and shaped like an six-pointed star.

Pat!, Pat!, Pat!, the wooden floor responds to the bare footsteps of tiny feet. On that newborn morning of the first day of the joyous month of December, the little Nero had risen even before the sun broke through the skies in his flavescent chariot, timidly piercing the thick curtain of gray clouds and the crystalline winter veil, venturing to run through the extensive corridors of the mansion in search of the right door. There were so many of them! He vaguely remembered the moment when his grandfather, Sparda, a great demon in human skin but always enframing a gentle and inviting smile on his face, had told him that his own demonic sensors were as young or younger as he was; and for Sparda, someone equally vivid and prolonged as time, Nero was very, very young. And despite his best efforts, the little one was unsuccessful in his hunt for his father’s bedroom door.

Pouty, Nero increased the weight of his steps and opened the first door within reach of his large, glacial eyes. His chubby cheeks widened again. It was his grandparents’ room. Blazing like a lightning, soon the boy was vibrating with euphoria, jumping on the bed without hesitation to snuggle into his grandmother’s lap, who until then was comfortable in the physical arms of her husband and in the dreamlike arms of the solemn Morpheus.

“Nonna! Nonno! Wake up, wake up! It’s already Christmas!”

Faced with the significantly strong shaking for a seven-year-old child with a quarter of demonic blood in his organism, Eva was forced to wake up from her pleasant sleep even in the heat of fright; she blinked, bewildered, slowly adjusting her blurred vision to the current scene in front of her — and to her side, where Sparda had already raised his robust figure, presenting them with his usual smile.

“Nero, darling…” She stammered at first, rubbing her heavy eyelids with the back of one hand, the other cradling the little boy against her chest. “What are you doing out of bed so early?”

“Good morning, little Nero!” Sparda saluted, with an exciting glow in his eyes, something alike someone who hadn't even really slept. Soon, the grandfather’s long, robust arms cradled his wife and grandson. “I take your grandmother’s question as mine: What are you doing out of bed at this time? Don’t tell me that the fleas of an Cerberus invaded your bed?” The theatrical gasp at the end of the speech made Nero laugh, unfolding himself on the sheets to fit in among the adults.

"No, no!" He vehemently denied it. “Didn’t you hear what I said? It’s Christmas!"

Eva, already a bit more awake, drawing an arch in her blonde eyebrows and an amused smile pulling at her lips, giggled as she said:

"Christmas? As far as I can remember — and for the last time I stopped to look at the calendar before going to sleep — today is the first of December.”

The little one looked at his grandmother as if something very obvious was being declared — as or more obvious as someone exclaiming that his hair is white. Silver, actually, but he liked to compare the coloring to mounts and mounts of fluffy snow, too.

“And that means it’s already Christmas, nonna!” Nero threw his hands up, trying to reinforce his point. “We have to decorate the house! And make cookies for Santa and pandoro¹! Oh, and hot chocolate with cinnamon rolls! We have to buy presents and call Uncle Dante!”

“Agreed,” says Sparda, preparing to leave the comfort of the sheets and his wife's redamantic warmth with his grandson in his arms. Automatically, Nero hugged the kind demon’s broad shoulders. “Nero is right, my beloved Eva. We have a lot to do until Christmas Eve!”

“Yeah, nonno!”

“How can I disagree and say no to two stubborn people consumed by the Christmas spirit?” Eva blows, also planting her feet on the woody floor of the room. She placed a kiss on the boy’s forehead and another on her husband’s lips, to which Nero was instinctively reactive when he vocalized an “Ew!”. “But one thing at a time, you hear me? Come, Nero. Let’s see if your father is awake while your nonno calls your Uncle Dante.”

“At this time, he shouldn’t be up,” Sparda pointed out, transferring the child into the woman’s arms. “Our son has a peculiar sleep, or as some say, a ‘stone sleep’.”

“He had someone to take after…” She said, vulpine. The demon gasped again, breaking the drama with the giggles exchanged between her and little Nero.

That was the cue to leave the room, Sparda cutting through the distant corridors towards the retrograde and central telephone in the living room, Eva and Nero going towards the door of the room furthest from the others. With three knocks on the fine mahogany and without immediate response, it was concluded in the matriarch’s mind that Vergil was no longer enjoying a good morning sleep; not that it was like him, after all his biological clock was quite… peculiar. All this to say that her eldest son and father of her precious grandson had a practically incurable case of insomnia.

“I already know! He must be in the kitchen, nonna!” Nero pulled his grandmother back from the noospheric halls with his high, childish tone of voice before something else waltzed into them.

Eva nodded, her pair of hazel irises sparkling, a small smile adorning her face.

“Let’s see if we can guess what he might be doing: pancakes?”

“I highly doubt it,” the boy wrinkles his nose. In a glance Eva remembered her boys, sometimes unhappy and discordant with each other. The similarities between Nero and Vergil were striking on many occasions. “Dad doesn’t like pancakes unless they have blueberries in them.”

“That’s right, how could I forget? You have a point, dear. So, it seems that he must be drinking tea while leafing through his favorite book of William Blake poetry for the umpteenth time, right, Vergil?”

The man who held the steaming cup with a minty aroma — ah, mint tea, usual refuge for his taste buds — centimeters in front of his mouth frozed, his thumb wrapped around the page that was about to be replaced and his characteristic glacial eyes expressing surprise at the scene that his mother and son witnessed when they arrived not far from the kitchen counter.

“Good morning to you too, Mother,” he hissed, his voice a fine line between caution and annoyance. The journey of his field of vision went from Eva’s candid face to the glimmer in the blue of her son's orbs. Vergil sighed, sewing a tiny smile on the corner of his mouth. “Good morning, Nero.”

Just like that, the little boy jumped off his grandmother’s lap and sailed towards his father, grabbing his legs, the limit he could reach at such an age and height. Vergil stroked his hair and for a moment he thought that the shy sun of that morning was actually hidden between Nero’s broad and peachy cheeks, so bright and lukewarm was his beaming.

“Morning, dad! Dad, dad! We’re going to start preparing things for Christmas! Nonno is already calling Uncle Dante and we’re going to decorate the house, make cookies, and hot chocolate and-”

“Nero… Breathe, one thing at a time.”

“That’s what I told him,” Eva said, laughing, with her back turned and in the background as she poured herself a cup of tea. “And there’s no point in making that face, Vergil. Your brother is coming to spend Christmas with us like he does every year, so I ask of you two is to behave, please. You’re already too big for your beaking.”

He widened his eyes. “But I didn’t-”

“Vergil, I am your mother. It’s the least I can assume what’s obviously going through your head.”

Nero hid a not-so-subtle laugh in his father's pajama pants.

“She’s got you!” He laughed, with his finger pointing towards him.

Sparda burst into the room before Vergil could react, the phone hooked to his ear.

“Yes, son, we need to decorate the house! Well, the sooner the better! Soon Christmas Eve will be at the door! As long as you don’t eat half the ingredients for supper — because I know what you and little Nero are capable of doing when Eva isn’t looking — and don’t fight with your brother... Dante, my son, now exactly is..." He paused for a moment to glance at the clock high on the kitchen wall. “Seven in the morning. What do you mean you won’t be in time for breakfast? I know the roads are covered in snow- Oh, of course! Activate your Devil Trigger! No, no one will see! We’ll be waiting for you in twenty minutes!”

“Tell him I sent him a kiss and a punch because he doesn’t call us often! And that I will make pancakes now!” Eva shouted, albeit jokingly.

“Yay!” Nero rejoiced, sitting next to Vergil.

“Your mother sent you a kiss and a punch for not calling us often,” Sparda clearly swallowed a laugh. “And she said she’ll make pancakes now. Eva, he said to separate the ones with strawberries.”

“And mine with blueberries, please,” Vergil vocalized, between pages and sips.

“Can I talk to Uncle Dante, nonno? Please?”

“Son, Nero wishes to speak to you,” and the phone was gently passed into the boy’s little hands.

“Hi, Uncle Dante!”

With a yawn, Dante exclaimed on the other end of the line:

“What’s up, kid! So that means you’re now responsible for the family’s Christmas spirit, right?”

“That’s on me!” Nero used a pompous tone in his voice, a chuckle soon after. “Come quickly, Uncle Dante! We have to put up the Christmas lights after breakfast!”

“Relax, Devil May Cry Express is already sending the package. A really nice package, I must say. Adios, my favorite nephew!”

“Hey, I’m your only nephew!” He protested.

But Dante had already ended the call. Pouting, Nero handed the phone back to Sparda — who was hiding a petit smile with the back of his hand — and went to help Eva with the pancakes.

Half an hour later, the youngest son returns to home. Dante was ultimately hugged by his parents and exchanged playful faces with his twin brother, not for long before the matriarch intervened and pulled his ears; “And no coming at me with your sweet forehead kisses! You still owe me for not calling often!” she said at some point during the reunion. Of course, Nero threw himself into his uncle's arms and then the two promptly volunteered to be Eva’s sous-chefs with the Christmas meals, although they were removed from such duty and placed to help Sparda with the lights and garlands throughout the mansion. Vergil was selected to help his mother instead, much to the duo's chagrin.

“Learn that life is not always fair, dear son and little brother.”

Winter dragged the crystals from its veil through the days until Christmas Eve. Days filled with hot chocolate, the infamous hazelnut cookies made by Eva — much appreciated by the men in the family, by the way —, toasted marshmallows and sweet, vanilla-tasted pandoros in just the right amount. When the twenty-fifth day finally arrived, the family was settled in the living room, by the fireplace, surrounded by thick, soft blankets, more cups of hot chocolate and precious cinnamon rolls. A silent Christmas, yes. Pacific, too. Not very common in the Sparda family, but comfortable nonetheless.

Little Nero couldn't ask for any better gift.

“And we, from the Sparda family, wish you all a Devilish Christmas!”

#dmcsecretsanta2024 #dmc secret santa #devil may cry #dmc #sparda family #devil may cry fanfiction #dante #vergil #nero #eva #sparda #eva x sparda #baby nero #fluffy fic #dante sparda #vergil sparda #nero sparda #eva sparda

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paradiscake · 7 months ago

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Random headcanons I have about the cool bug demon (Sparda) that I've decided to inflict upon you:

Since he's basically a big bug demon, and normal bugs do things like chirp and screech and growl and mantle their wings to try and make themselves look bigger, personal headcanon that Sparda makes little chirping noises sometimes when he's happy. Sometimes he's not even aware he's doing it, if he's relaxed enough. Absolutely hummed and sang to the twins when they were babies and toddlers to soothe them and make them feel Safe and Loved. Actually has a pretty decent singing voice, especially in human form.

His singing voice in demon form isn't exactly BAD, as such, its just... not something you'd want to hear if you're fighting the guy. He chants or hums or sings when he fights, too, and it sounds either a) disconcerting and horrifying as fuck, if he's doing it because his blood is up and he wants to intimidate you, or just because he's so pumped on bloodlust he has to express that somehow, or b) inspiring, like a rallying battle cry, only extended, and meant to be heard across miles of chaotic, noisy battlefield(s), if you're on his side. He also hisses, growls, or outright shrieks when he's annoyed or enraged, if he's in demon form and fighting. Also absolutely mantles his wings to make himself look bigger, as a threat display. Maybe not something he does so much any more, once he becomes Mundus' right hand man, since by then he probably feels like he doesn't NEED to make a show of how powerful he is, but the instinct is still there.

Probably molts, too, for the same reasons most bugs molt. Also helps him repair his armor, if it gets damaged enough, and change the armor's shape and design to suit different situations.

AAAAH, coincidental but I was thinking about Sparda's voice too! That he has a particular trademark battle cry that strikes fear in the enemies.

But this is even better, the relations to bugs. And the emotions he can convey through that.

Oh and he could totally sing as a human. He loved mankind and lived for 2000 years. It only makes sense he learnt how to sing from them, from the best human singers.

Maybe he had a special "buggy" humming just for Dante and Vergil. It was their lullaby. And Eva had her own for the twins. While hers was more human and 'familiar' with words, Sparda's appealed to their demon side with simple hummings only he understands. It's stuck with Vergil and Dante even 40 years later.

Oh the molting! I do imagine he would need his Devil Trigger form to heal like magically but molting is an interesting concept for that.

#devil may cry #dmc sparda #dante #vergil #dmc eva #dmc vergil #dmc dante #sparda family

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