#vergil asks it in jest

[echristinaarte]

social media is a struggle when you're 40ish and all your brother posts about is motorcycles and pizza reviews

[hexitca]

guys im ordering pizza for lunch ask me things about Devil May Cry

[that-gay-guy-from-hell]

As You Wish (Part 1): Vergil x G/N Reader

Summary: Vergil loses a game of darts

Beginning Notes: Saw a post on Tumblr about how much people want to touch Vergil’s hair, so this was born. Did this get kinda skewed? Maybe, but I like it--I dunno lol. For dart games, I only know how to play 301/501 and I kinda understand how Cricket works; so, sorry I used something so basic lmao 🎀💙🎀 Vergil x G/N Reader Unestablished relationship; however, the two of you being in love is obvious to everyone besides Vergil and you. You live at the DMC with Dante and Vergil. Stupid Fluff

==

     “Alright, I’m headed out!” Dante smiled widely, “Need anything?”

     “I’m good,” you reached up and ruffled his hair a bit, “Thanks though.”

     The red devil nodded, “Try not to burn down the shop while I’m gone..?”

     You clicked your tongue as you jested, “You sure you’re telling that to the right person?”

     The two of you shared a laugh as he walked to the front door, “I’ll be back later.”

     “Bye, Dante!” you waved as he left and left you alone in the shop’s foyer.

     With a delighted hum, you waltzed over to the jukebox, turned on a random track, and grabbed a drink from the fridge. A loud huff left your mouth as you slumped onto the pleather couch.

     As you tried to relax, you mindlessly wandered through your thoughts when a certain blue devil popped into your mind, “Mmn, wonder what Vergil’s doing…” a warm smile tugged at your lips at the thought of the suave man. 

     When the twins came back from the Underworld, you were enamored with the eldest son of Sparda. The contrast between the brothers was enough to pique your curiosity. As time went on, there was more than just your interest in their dynamic, something deeper than that. 

     At first, Vergil was enigmatic and frustratingly difficult. You felt he was purposely being insufferably insolent towards you; which he definitely was. After receiving a rather difficult contract, it was decided that said elder brother and you were to work together; much to both your irritations. However, as the two of you did more and more jobs together, you began to tolerate one another. Never in a thousand years would you have thought he would be your friend; let alone extremely cordial and, dare you say, kind. 

     Nowadays, the blue devil is always with you: in or out of the shop, recreational or job-related; it didn’t matter, he was right beside you. Admittedly, you found that Vergil’s presence had become extremely comforting.

     A distant part of you wondered if he felt the same about you; if someone like him could find the same unending solace that you do. If you asked the other members of the DMC, Vergil definitely does. It became a regular thing for the crew (especially Dante and Nero) to point out how personable the eldest son of Sparda is with you and how uncharacteristically gentle he is when it comes to you. Your smile grew as you toyed with the idea of your secret feelings being returned.

     “Where is Dante?” a serene voice pulled you from your thoughts. 

     At the bottom of the staircase was Vergil, standing with folded arms, “Oh! Hey- Vergil, I-” you stumbled over your thoughts, “Uh, What did you ask?”

     The eldest twin raised a brow at your jumbled words and dropped his original question, “Are you alright?”

     “I uh,” you shook your head and sat up straight, “Yeah, I’m good,” you set your drink on the coffee table. 

     Vergil squinted at you for a moment before moving to the fridge to get some water. Then he turned to head back upstairs.

     “Hey, wait,” you stood from the couch and Vergil turned to face you, “Did you maybe wanna shoot some darts? Bet I can beat you.”

     A small smirk adorned his lips and he upturned his brow as he responded, “Are you challenging me?”

     “Yeah, you can’t be any harder to play against than Dante or Nero,” you playfully winked at him.

     He shook his head with a small happy sigh, “Fine, I will be right back,” he turned around and headed up the stairs to his room. 

     You grabbed the darts from the desk drawer and pursed your lips in thought, “Yeah, sure, as if I have beaten Dante or Nero before… Vergil’s gonna wipe the floor with me…”

     Vergil reappeared downstairs shortly after, “So, what game do you have in mind?”

     “How about… uh,” you stood there, not knowing what to say since you had only played one type of game before.

     Vergil noticed your odd response and softly chuckled, “Let’s do something simple then. How about 501?”

     “Sure, that works,” you awkwardly smiled, “Especially since it's the only game I know how to play…”

     “Perhaps, if you'd like, I could teach you different games at some point..?"

     “I think I'd very much like that,” you smiled at Vergil and failed to notice the light pink that dusted his features.

     The two of you finished the first game rather quickly. Despite Vergil’s confidence, you weren’t too far off of his score. 

     “Wanna play again?” you were practically beaming, even though you lost. 

     He was standing with his arms folded and leaning against the edge of Dante’s desk, “I don’t see why not,” that’s when Vergil got an idea, “Why don’t we raise the steaks?”

     You raised a brow at the man.

     The eldest twin stood up off the desk, “Whoever wins gets to ask the loser to do one thing for them,” he had a large smirk and was radiating confidence, “No questions asked.”

     You flashed him a wide grin, “You’re so on.”

     The game was tense, to say the least. You were nipping at his heels the entire time and it was now down to the wire. Vergil had fifteen and you had twenty points left. 

     It was his turn. The blue devil had an expression that was akin to the slight frown of concentration he got during a fight; apparently, he wanted to win just as much as you do. In a manner both forceful and delicate, Vergil shot his dart. A triple fifteen. You could see the frustration in his eyes as he went and pulled his dart from the board. He went and leaned against the wall with crossed arms, carefully watching you. 

     It was your turn. You decided to shut your eyes, hope for the best, and throw your dart. Single twenty. A small huff of disbelief left your parted and upturned lips--Vergil doing the same. 

     With a large beaming smile, you turned to him, “Guess I win, huh?”

     He eyed you coldly.

     “Come on,” you slightly pouted at his reaction, “Don’t be like that.”

     With a soft sigh, he avoided your gaze.

     You walked over to the board with a slight spring to your step, “Now,” you pulled your dart from the board and looked over at the sulking devil, “About that bet~” you playfully placed a hand on your hip.

     He regained his air of confidence and folded his arms, “Best choose wisely, I assure you this won’t happen again.”

     “Hm…” you went to put your darts away in the desk drawer, Vergil following suit, “I know,” you moved to the stairs and beckoned him to you, “Come with me.” 

     The eldest twin raised a brow at your request but did as you asked. The two of you went into your bedroom; making sure to lock the door behind you in case Dante came home. 

     “Sit, please?” you gestured to your bed.

     He gave you a confused look but did as instructed.

     You pursed your lips and took a deep breath before moving to straddle his lap.

     A shade of pink decorated Vergil’s face,  “Now what, wanderer?”

     A small laugh left your lips, “I didn’t know you remembered that,” you draped your arms over his shoulders.

     “I remember many things,” Vergil cautiously set his hands on your lower back.

     “Oh?” you hoped he would elaborate, however, he did not.

     He gave you a warm smirk, one reminiscent of V’s, “Is this really all you want from me?”

     “Yeah…” you gave him a sheepish smile, “Is that alright?”

     “I suppose, although,” he gently pulled you closer to him and lowly whispered, “you could have just asked.”

     Your face became flush as you felt his head rest against the side of your neck, “Then can- can I ask you something else?”

     “Hm..?”

    “Would it be okay if I… touched your hair?” 

     His brow furrowed as he let out a laugh followed by a smokey whisper, “You are sitting on my lap… and you want to know if you can touch my hair?”

     “Is that a no?”

     He chuckled, “You may do as you wish.”

     With a joyful hum, you ran your fingers through his pomaded hair. Vergil was unable to hold back a loud purring from your tender soft touch. The blue devil nuzzled further into the crook of your neck, attempting to silence the unwelcomed happy noise. You knew better than to point it out, however, you let out a small laugh at his odd reaction.

     After a few minutes, you removed your hands from his hair. Vergil pouted a bit at your action as he leaned back. The both of you stared into one another’s eyes. Despite Vergil’s assertive nature, he couldn’t have been more nervous and unsure of what to do now.

     Slowly, you placed a hand on his cheek and thumbed over his soft skin as a loving smile adorned your lips, “Can I tell you something?”

     Upon seeing your half-lidded and warm expression, Vergil’s face became a few shades redder, “Of course.”

      “You’re gorgeous, Vergil,” you noticed his brow upturn, “I mean that in the least insulting way, of course.”

     He broke off from your stare and had a sheepish smile, unsure how to respond.

     You gently placed your thumb and forefinger on his chin, “Vergil..?” you turned him back to face you.

     His eyes met with yours once more, however, this time there was an odd shyness to them; one which made your heart flutter. The blue devil’s eyes occasionally broke from yours to look down at your lips. 

     Your voice was barely audible as you leaned in, resting the side of your nose against his, “May I?”

     With a low husky whisper, the blue devil lightly smirked, “Didn’t I tell you to do as you wished?”

     Carefully, you placed a sweet peck of a kiss against his lips. Before he could reciprocate, you shot back up from his face in a panic that you had just crossed a line. However, when you tried to stand, you found yourself flipped underneath him. 

     “Is that what you call a kiss?” he gave you a face that conveyed a mixture of confusion and light disappointment.

     “It is,” you pursed your lips before giving him a meek smile and whisper, “Care to show me yours?”

     The blue devil dipped down and connected his lips with yours. His lips were warm and oddly affectionate. A small moan left your lips as you felt his fingers dig into the sides of your hips. A smirk adorned his lips as he continued to give you slow fervorous kisses. The blue devil made sure to steal your breath and not allow you to break off from him. You took your hands and ran them through his hair, making him let out an unintentional moan. 

     Vergil stopped his kisses and pulled back up to look you in the eyes, “Careful, you might not like what happens if you do that…”

     You gave him a salacious smirk, “You told me to do what I wished, and right now,” you leaned up to kiss the side of his neck, “All I want is you.”

==

Ending Notes: Did Vergil let you win? Who knows (He totally did). Might write a part two that is smut. I don’t know. Let me know if you want to see that or not. Also ngl, writing smut has been kinda hard for me to get in the groove as of late, not sure why lmao.

==

HERE'S PART 2

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If you like this please consider checking this on my AO3. There are extra chapters and my H/Cs over there, so please consider checking them out! Comments, Likes/Kudos, and shares are always appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!! :)))

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

[fractempyreal]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 ,        though it eventually shifts back towards the white cat that now pushes further into Vergil's hand INSISTENTLY .   Soon enough ,   it escapes the hold of the angel  &  alights on the Devil's lap .   Vergil's hands lift slightly in an evident display of uncertainty ,   jaw clenching as he stares down at the cat as she tentatively paws at his chest  (  obviously asking them to continue in affectionate ministrations  ) .   A frown mars their expression as he looks back towards Adrian ,   as if asking them to take back the feline creature in their arms so as to disconnect any further contact with her .   Yet ,   in the back of the Devil's mind chimes in the voice of reality that reminds them that Adrian more than likely would NOT save them from their predicament .

                            Now what ? 

𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄 ,  𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐋𝐘 𝐄𝐗𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐒 ,        as their hands begin to lower  &  gently scratch between the cat's ears .   It's a stiff motion ,   painfully unfamiliar to him  &  it's embarrassing as it is endearing to watch as this Devil seems to falter in the act of distributing out any kind of affection that a pet would ask of them .   Shoulders still stiff with spine ram-rod straight ,   Vergil allows his hand to smooth down her neck  &  pause between her shoulder blades .   Somehow ,   the purring grows LOUDER in the room as she circles around on his lap before curling up on it ,   eyes squinting closed before bunting up towards the hand that once again repeats the motion .

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 ,        what with their concentration seemingly fully installed on the cat on his lap ,   but at the tease of keeping a secret about having a heart ,   their expression DARKENS  &  sharpened gaze sets on Adrian with biting ice in the response to follow their jest .        ❛    You would mock me as such ?    ❜        Corner of lip pulls back in faint SNEER before calloused hand scoops under the cat ,   rising to his feet  &  pressing her back into Adrian's arms  (  despite her protest against being separated from them  ) ,   scowl still marring their face when they do .        ❛    I suggest you find it another potential owner .   I would not know how to care for her anyways .    ❜

     they're a busy angel after all . the other's dry remark is met with a hum , light and breezy . " i try not to anyway . which is precisely why i'm looking for a reliable someone to take her off my hands . "

     it would seem even a devil is not immune to the charms and affections of a cat . adrian watches with a gentle expression as her head rubs gingerly against gloved palm , catching the soft shift in hardened features that follows . it's subtle and brief but adrian recognizes it as a sign their suspicions were correct .

     " of course , i know you've no need for a pet . no one does . we simply enjoy their company as much as they enjoy ours . " especially when said company is preferable to that of humans . and with how little patience vergil has for those , honestly , the realization should have dawned on them much sooner . an animal companion might be the key to melting that icy heart after all , even if just a little .

     " you don't have to decide right away . " attention shifting finally from furry feline to aloof devil , there's a twinkle in their eye . " but if you do decide to keep her , revealing that you do , in fact , have a heart deep down ⸺ i promise it will be our little secret . "

[butcherknives-remade]

Anonymous asked: Request for a reader(f! Or Nb!) patching up the sparda boys after they come home injured?

Tending to the Sparda men

ft. Gender Neutral Reader from the Devil May Cry Series

SFW - very fluffy

descriptions of blood/wounds

Dante

Although he regenerates skin cells, sinew, and bone on a molecular level that baffles you, when Dante saunters into the shop that day, you notice he has three long gashes like welted canyons serrated into the left side of his neck. The blood has coagulated, yet you see a rich shadow that taints the wound an unnatural purple.

When you ask, Dante waves you off with a sideways grin. Of course he does, you think. What were you expecting? Yet you catch the twist in his brows that expose the pain he’s masking, always blasé, and you refuse to let it slide even when he reminds you that hey, “My body heals itself, remember?”

When he removes his sword and jacket, you pull him into orbit to examine the wound. You can see the river of surrounding veins are a series of swollen blues. His skin seems pallid, and against the smattering of freckled blood stains, beads of sweat gleam.

Your concern is met with another dismissive click of his tongue. “Looks like I’m gettin’ old. Body’s slower on the uptake.” He shrugs. “Give it some time and it’ll be fine.”

Frankly, you don't care what he has to say. His jugular seems to pulsate with each heartbeat and even if he won’t tell you what happened, you’re still going to care for him; that’s your job, you say out loud. “So please sit down and let me do that?”

He doesn’t argue with you. His exhaustion is bruised beneath his eyes, so perhaps it’s a relief when he collapses on the couch. (He certainly seems to melt into the peeling leather.)

When you return, it’s with bandages and disinfectant, a clean cloth and a bowl of warm water; you place your items on the coffee table and sit at his left side while you survey the damage with clinical attention. “Seriously,” you say, wetting your cloth. “What did this to you?”

And Dante sighs through his nose as you gently dab his neck. “Hellhound.”

You pause, incredulous as you ask, “How?”

“Got me good,” he says with a derisive laugh. When you shoot him a warning glare, he raises his hands. “Look, I really don’t know. Your guess is as good as mine.”

You return to your work, diligent despite the concern that wraps icy fingers around your throat. “Does it hurt?”

His lips mesh together, his eyes sliding toward you. You can see the gears in his head turning as he weighs his options: Honesty or a bold-faced bluff? “Mm, I’d say... not as much as you seem to think.”

It takes roughly ten minutes until you feel satisfied. Until you place your bloody basin and cotton swabs down and observe the way his skin has begun to knit itself back together. Incredible. Anyone else would need stitches.

You’re so focused, you don’t catch the gentle smile twisting at the ends of his lips.

“How’s it looking, doc?” he asks as you squeeze preventative antibiotic - just in case he’s capable of getting an infection. “Will I live to see another day?”

You huff and cuff him gently on the arm as he snorts, but you find relief in his ability to jest through this. “Not if you keep giving me a hard time.”

He grins his mirth, yanking you into an unexpected embrace that steals the wind from your lungs. “Careful,” he says as you settle into his hold. “Who’ll patch me up if you try to kill me?”

You hum as if in thought. “You could always call your brother.”

This gets a laugh out of Dante. “Sure, so he can finish the job.”

“Finally,” you say with a chuckle.

“Finally,” he agrees.

And as you wrap your arms around him tighter, unbothered by the scent of his sweat and musk, you plant a feather kiss to his jaw. “Please be careful out there,” you tell him.

“So long as I have you,” he says as his lips brush against your crown, “I think I’ll be alright.”

Vergil

You don’t expect Vergil to burst into your home grasping the doorknob until his knuckles are white, his breathing ragged and teeth bared in agony. You startle and rise from your seat, at his side in a burst of horror. He’s bowed forward, hunched as he grapples for his torso, and you’re leading him inside with an arm around his waist.

Blood hammers through your ears. “What happened?” you ask, hurried, urging him to sit down.

“I miscalculated,” he grunts through his gritted jaw. “Arrived in a nest...” he swallows as you gingerly assist him into the recliner. “There were far too many.”

On his jacket you see blood staining the threading, yet when you reach for him, he jerks away. Your eyes flick up to meet his and within his guarded stare, you observe only the line of furrowed pain in that sea of otherwise unrelenting pride.

He says your name and you still your mind to listen. “Don’t trouble yourself. I only need time and I will heal.”

For a moment, you can’t help but endure the sting of rejection, yet you’re quick to recover; before anything else, he’s come here, to you, where he knows he’s safe to rest.

He trusts you. There are no words to express how profoundly this strikes your heart. It fills you, spreading like sunshine across the chords of your ribs until you buzz with breathless joy.

“Can I at least get you something?” You’re standing in front of him and you want nothing more than to be helpful, to show him how much you care, and as he studies you through his intensity, you are able to watch him make his conclusion. It’s a click in his irises; a spark of electric knowing.

“Your company.”

Heat floods your cheeks and with a nod, you take a seat at his side. You attempt to smother your smile, focusing instead on the way Vergil steals a moment of reprieve to close his eyes. Your worry lessens - you’re certain that he will recover.

“Will you take me with you next time?” you ask, intentionally quiet when you reach for his hand.

(He does not withdraw.)

His eyes part, that pale gaze shifting to observe you, mild and curious. “I wouldn’t actively seek to put you in danger.” His brow quirks. “I can heal. You may not.”

And while you know this is true, you wish he wouldn’t continue to venture on his own. Can he not take Dante? Nero? If he’s concerned with leading you to harm, surely his family can handle it? Yet you know Vergil too well, and with that comes the knowledge that he would rather take care of his own business because he thinks it’s easier than delegating tasks, or attempting to control two less malleable forces.

As your thumb strokes the back of his palm, you lean on your arm rest. “Can I make a request, then?” Although Vergil doesn’t answer, merely closing his eyes once more, you know that he’s listening. “Consider taking someone else with you? At least... Sometimes.”

He hums his acknowledgement. “Would it ease your fears?”

Your heart thrums. “Yes.”

Exhaling through his nose, he turns to look at you, and for a moment, he says nothing. He’s roving his eyes across your expression as if to read you, to piece together a detail he perhaps has missed, then finally, straightening his shoulders, he turns his palm over to press into yours. Your fingers lace.

“Then I suppose... I’ll consider it in the future.”

Nero

“For the last time, it’s not a big deal!” He tries to duck away but you’re persistent. “Ugh, quit it!”

“For heaven’s sake. Would you just stay still, Nero?”

You have your grip on his arm as you tug him toward you, but Nero has a stubborn heel in the carpet. His head is cast toward the wall but you can see him making a show of rolling his eyes regardless.

At least he’s fallen silent.

In your own tenacity, you crowd into his space and slide your hold to his hand. You have to use force to get him to relent, yet when he does, it’s with a long-suffering sigh that has you rolling your eyes. “You’re such a baby.”

“I’m not a -” but he catches himself, flushing, giving you a cantankerous stare before he scoffs and turns away once more.

Such a baby, you repeat to yourself.

There are a series of nicks in his knuckles from a particularly heavy-handed punch. His index finger is split open, a wound that spans across the entirety, and as you inspect it through the oozing blood, he huffs. “C’mon, seriously?”

“We need to wash it off,” you say with a sense of finality. “Come.”

And for all of his complaining, arguing, and - no matter what he says - whining, he follows you into your small bathroom where you twist the sink on. The water takes a moment to heat but when it does, you hold out your hand for his. He hesitates, lips flattened together, then wordlessly complies.

He stares at the flowing water rather than you, and in his expression, you can read the simmering shyness that he’s attempting to suppress behind a hardened glare.

“You shouldn’t fight me,” you tell him, patient despite the way he jerks in your hold as if burned. The water coasts along his knuckles, staining the sink a diluted crimson while you ghost the pads of your fingertips over the broken flesh. “I’m just trying to help.”

“But I’ll be fine,” he says, quiet against the rushing water. “I’ve been through way worse than this.”

“I know,” and you do. You’re peeking at him, smiling a touch while his muscles visibly ease. “But I’m here for you now and I hate seeing you hurt, so let me make it a big deal. Just a little bit. Please?”

A light brush of pink tints his face while he takes a sharp inhale, as if he’s irritated by the thought. You both know better. His eyes are giving him away and oh, they always do. There’s a glimmer of elation drawn there, the upturn of his brows belying the sweet spark of affection he feels.

You feel it, too.

“Here,” you say. “Keep your hand under the tap. I’m gonna grab some stuff to wrap your finger, okay?”

You slide past him, maneuvering through the tight space and tiled white walls to head toward your cabinet. Yet you get so far as the toilet before Nero’s snatching your wrist with his free hand, and when your gazes meet, his eyes dim with an outpouring of ardor that heats your cheeks.

“Thank you,” he says, and you tip your head with a demure smile. He gives you a sideways smile in return.

“You’re welcome.”

[powerseeking]

@devilrogue​  asked  ;    "Y'know, there's almost something charmin' about you at this age." Before the 'take over the demon world' attempts got super serious and Vergil lost all traces of his humanity? A mouthful, maybe, but the truth. Dante bent at the waist ( he'd never see Vergil shorter than him again, he had to relish it ) and pressed a finger to his lip, an amused hush-hush. "But you'll have to forgive me, can't give out any spoilers or anything. Would ruin the fun of it, right?"

             ❛      and  has  there  ever  been  anything  charming  about  you,  at  any  age,  dante ?       ❜     vergil retorts back,  a sly smirk on his face before rolling his eyes   —   as if he was interested in hearing what dante thinks about him at this age,  or at any age.  it  wasn’t  a friendly family catch-up he was looking for,  he thinks before his ear perks up,  watching dante alter his stance and finish his words. 

             was he  mocking  him ?  a brow furrows as he shakes his head,  sighing as he walks past him  ;  he had  always  been childish,  and he was in no mood for such things.       ❛      as  if  I  wish  to  enquire  any  of  that  information  from  you,  it  means  nothing  to  me  as  of  now.  but   —   no  spoilers  stop  me  from  knowing  i’ll  defeat  you,  brother.     ❜      despite his mood,  he jests back,  confidence brimming from his words as he glances around the office once more   —   he had seen it in other interactions on his travel many times.  still,  it was a first to meet this version of his pitiful younger brother,  as he turns on his heel,  staring back at the older man.   

           ❛      but  indeed.  in  any  consolation  though,  you  sound  pleased  with  yourself  to  hide  such  things  from  me.  i’ll  allow  you  to  have  your  fun,  while  it  lasts.     ❜     in the end,  whether he hides it or not from him,  he had firm belief and confidence that his plans  will  work out  ( when time was fixed ).  maybe the other was just  ashamed  to admit he was beaten for a change and him sitting sorry for himself in his re-built office was his future ?   

           dante  had  always been a sore loser after all.

[vischys]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒅 upon the Vanguard's bright gratitude, mayhaps she was reminded of a daughter that was no longer in her care.

“According to my husband, the secret is in the lessening of the sourness of the yogurt. Of course, he wouldn't share how exactly he did so, the man is as secretive as a clamp when it comes to his recipes.” Her gaze moved to Vergil at the last part, of which the cambion responded with a subtle arch of snowy brow as he poured himself another cup.

“ It's the sweetener, ”  Vergil informed Ink in a low tone and fey seriousness, head dipped slightly forward as though imparting a grave secret. “ If I must hazard a conjecture, it is very likely a natural substance between honey or puree. ”  His gaze flitted momentarily toward his own tea. “ The odds lean more toward blueberry puree, taking into account the ingredients incorporated in the overall menu. ”

At that very moment, the name of the youth's resident chef, Jaron, flashed in his mind. Totally not in a competitive context. 𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘺 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘶? 𝘛𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘦!

Mrs. Potts pursed her lips, indicating enough hint for the son of Sparda that his culinary conjecture was exactly on point.  “You didn't hear anything from me. I don't want Maurice to neglect his duties in the kitchen in favor of debating with a customer. Again.” Her last word elicit yet another arch of his brow, this time accompanied by a twitch upon his lips to hint a shadow of a smirk, bespeaking the fact that such a scene had happened before in one of his previous visits.

“ Entendu quoi, madame ? ”  The cambion asked in her native tongue, his accent an impeccable finesse laced with jest.

Mrs. Potts shook her head fondly then addressed Ink again. “My husband would like to know he is most flattered by your appreciation for his cooking. Let me know again when you have finished, dearies.”

Vergil nodded his assent and Mrs. Potts left the duo to their privacy again.

Now, returning to the matter concerning other fractions.

"Okay, so here's what I know about fractions. There are four in each part of the city. I think I need a map.... Or napkin."

His left eye raised in amusement toward Ink's creative endeavor of turning a napkin into a mapkin, but he remained silent out of respect and curiosity to wait until Ink finished.

"Okay, so you know the boroughs of New York City, right? There are five: The Bronx, Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, and Staten Island."

The firstborn tilted his chin lightly to the side as he took a sip of his tea, affirming that Ink had his undivided attention. He vaguely recalled the name of those human-crowded boroughs from his travel decades ago, granted he had never set foot in any.

Knights of Darkness, Joshua Star. Lupins, Fin Reer and Amhed Ammit. Elite Demon Anthem, Kali Vin-Shia. And finally, Guam The Great Upstander Campaign.

He mentally took note of the name of each fraction and their respective leaders, with deliberation that his path might cross with any of theirs in a similar manner it had crossed Shdwkyz's and Ink's in the past.

Reflecting upon the details Ink had imparted above, he couldn't but envision these fractions as a manner of vigilante circle, considering the choice of term Ink used to refer to them as and the outlawed activities they are involved in. They also came across as comprising non-human individuals, as evidenced by the Lupins and the fact they could hold their ground against the members of Ink's fraction who were teen-turned demons. Some sort of unspoken yet abiding respect seemed to be held between them that the battles Ink recounted resembled more of a rivalry than actual antagonism.

Which brought new elements of curiosity thereafter, whether these fractions fought for the sake of their own "turfs" as Ink put it, or for everyone indiscriminately -humans and non-humans- in their vicinity. The latter seemed far-fetched given humanity's general aversion and apprehension against anything inhuman, yet Ink's account stood that this Guam, of whom she is seemingly most fond of, with his campaign of a fraction has managed to secure the presidency of his city nonetheless.

𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭.

“ I surmise that the Demon Blood Tears, ” he pronounced each word making up the name of Ink's fraction in a firm, steady cadence, “ –is too a fraction of adjacent jurisdiction with the rest you have enumerated? ” Either Brooklyn or Staten Island, mayhaps? For those were the two boroughs whose domineering vigilante fraction was yet to be mentioned.

The cambion took another sip, recalling Ink's brief albeit conspicuous moment of out of character earlier and couldn't let go an inkling something was still left out pertaining to these fractions.

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒛𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒅-𝒋𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒚 as its holder registered a change in air surroundings his demoiselle as she visibly mulled over his fervent monologue.

How could he not? He was so accustomed to silence and solitude, taking comfort in the serenity of owning his own space, safe and untouched by the harsh world outside. Ink's presence was the opposite of his personal environment, her unsuspecting nature and spring vein brought upon a palpable brightness to his dark corner in the past hour of their shared walk and meal. All of a sudden her smile ceased to be and the ever present ebullience cloaking her character dimmed, to Vergil it felt as though someone has turned off the light that it was impossible to not respond to it.

Grey eyes registered a movement on the edge of their vision and flitted to follow the movement of Ink's hand resting upon her slender neck. They narrowed at the unspoken weight exuded by the simple gesture, the grave upon Ink's countenance recounted a mortal tale that belied her youthful features and for a moment, Vergil felt an urge to call out her name with a gentle between his temperate cadence. His fingers twitched upon where they held the fork, his muscles registered before his mind the desire to comfort, least inquire after what evidently dismayed his demoiselle enough to cast a shadow over her brightness.

But the moment passed as sudden as they began and the Vanguard's smile restored to its default intensity.

The lithe hand holding the forkful resumed its journey then.

"Oh! He's part of a fraction that lives in Queens. A leader of a fraction called Great Upstander Campaign and they live in Flushing! He's a good guy and he's pretty chill. He has a dog named Champion! and-"

The fork was set down thereafter in favor of the napkin as Ink seemed to recall something mid-sentence.

"Vergil...did you know anything about the fractions living in New York? Like Guam's fraction and others?"

Sparda's firstborn dabbed his lips with the deftness of a well bred scion, facial countenance neutral aside from the raise eyebrow which indicated his lack of recognition over the name Guam, his campaign, and his whereabout. Despite his extensive library, most of its content comprises matters and subjects from the past. In this case they provide vast historical accounts of the ancient civilizations, practices, and the glossary of the denizens of the Hadean realm. Yet when it concerned the present civilization and its denizen however, he admitted inwardly that he lacked such a source due to the constant sense of disassociation from the course the current Overworld or rather the modern world has taken.

“I have heard the mentions of these fractions in passing, but hardly a detail nor the moniker of the Great Upstander,” he said, not wanting to reveal his lack of knowledge openly and instead subtly encouraging Ink to elaborate.

It wasn't necessarily a lie, for he did hear whispers of those fractions from none other the broker they encountered on their way here. Dante's colleague, despite his untimely presence prior, was undeniably a maven when it comes to sourcing information and connections. After all, it was the man who gleaned about the existence of Ink's fraction from his own connections to pass her bounty to Vergil in the past.

And as though summoned by a pure motherly instinct, Mrs. Potts came to their table for the the fourth time, bearing Ink's Greek Yoghurt and Vergil's refill of blueberry tea.

“I could be wrong, but something tells me you both need this,” the elderly woman said with her customary maternal smile, but this time to Ink in particular.

𝘌𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯��𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯�� 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘯 𝘐𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘴, Vergil couldn't but surmise as he accepted the refill.

[voltaicblackknight]

Morning Visit | Vergil x Reader

First time writing a xReader fic, it felt weird at first but it was fun!

Word count: 622

AO3 Link

Fic under the cut!

It is Sunday morning and you decide to spend it going on a rampage tearing demons into pieces on your videogame console. There is an unexpected guest, however, one that you recently gave the keys to your flat to and he comes in bearing gifts of the consumable kind, specifically a selection of your favourite breakfast pastries and a cup of coffee. Despite having been told explicitly that he is welcomed here anytime, there is still a sense of hesitation about him when he walks through the door. You, of course, are very pleasantly surprised to see him.

‘Good morning!’ You greet him with a bright smile.

‘Good morning,’ he stammers ever-so-slightly that most will not notice, but this is you.

‘I thought you were on a job today?’

‘I need a break,’ he says as he makes his way into the small kitchen.

‘From the jobs or from Dante?’ You tease. He busies himself with sorting out the breakfast instead of replying. Not that he needs to, you know what his answer is either way.

‘There’s tea in the cupboard, by the way,’ you call out before you swear out loud. Bastard demon has just smashed you into the ground and now you have to restart from the checkpoint that is miles away.

Vergil opens the cupboard and found a selection, some even hand-blended. He smiles. ‘I thought you were not that fond of tea.’

‘No, but I know someone who is,’ you give him a toothy grin and decide to take a break. The smell of coffee and pastries are tickling at your nose and making your stomach rumble.

Little things like this makes him smile, you noticed, things that shows him you think of him and care for him. Better is the smile that makes his eyes crinkle, one that sometimes come with soft laughter, but you have all day to make that happen.

‘So, now that you are free and I have you all to myself, do you have any plans in mind?’ You ask while reaching out and embracing him from behind, resting your head on his wide back. The smell of amber and cedar wood, with a touch of mint, lingers in your nostrils.

‘I was thinking perhaps a day out, although you seem occupied,’ he jests.

‘I’m sure I can practice my demon hunting skills later. Can’t let you have all the fun.’

He frowns and turns around. ‘What?’

‘Videogame, love. I was crushing demons in space with my bare hands. Rather satisfying,’ you laugh and stands on tip toes to kiss him on the lips. This is why your collection of high heels has grown tenfold ever since the two of you met.

‘You should not joke about things like that,’ he reprimands but visibly relaxes.

The frown swiftly turns into a cheeky smile as he rests his chin on your head where your height just about reach him. You freeze for a moment, boiling in petty rage over the elder son of Sparda’s idea of a joke before clearing your throat and give him the most fearsome death glare you can muster. All is forgiven however when you see him smile the way that you love with sparkles in his eyes. You reach around him to grab the coffee and goes off to set the table.

‘Very funny. Now put your long legs to good use and bring the breakfast over here,’ you grumble.

‘Is that an order?’

‘Hell yes, it is.’

Looks like going out will have to wait because you just give him a better idea of how to spend the day, which will most likely leave you incapacitated and wrap around him for a good few hours.

[harlot-of-oblivion]

The Heart of the Camellia(Part 7)

After having dinner with the rest of the crew, Vergil offers to walk you home while trying to solve a puzzling conundrum: how to ask you to be his date to the wedding.

It's finally back after two LONG months! Hope you guys enjoy this flowery installment! 🌺😊🌺

The song featured is To a Wild Rose by Edward MacDowell, but I listened to the Emile Pandolfi version while writing that scene...its a tad bit longer and has more embellishments here and there. 🌹🥰🌹

Here’s the link to the list of all the flowers featured in this part.🌸💖🌸

Chapter 2: Wild Roses, Wild Nights

There is one thing that Vergil has not gotten used to since living in the human world, and that is being social among a big crowd of people. The clatter of utensils and clicking of glasses makes it hard to concentrate on his own thoughts as everyone chatters and bickers around the table. In all honesty, this racket would usually make him a tad bit uncomfortable, but the presence of you, his lovely rose, sitting beside him brings peace of mind during the chaos of dinner with the crew.

As you laugh at his brother’s punny jokes and smile happily while talking with Kyrie, he cannot help but to admire you from the corner of his eye. He especially pays close attention to the beautifully crafted flower crown that adorns your head. The delicate vines of pink wisteria intertwining seamlessly with the bright lavender asters adds a certain allure to your enchanting charm. His mind keeps mulling over the meaning of the flowers, which never fails to summon that familiar warmth deep within his chest.

I feel the blossoming of love.

And perfect patience will help it bloom.

Vergil’s hands begin to fidget underneath the table as he concentrates on keeping his usual cool composure. Normally, his demeanor is quite calm during these social engagements with the crew, but he recalls Dante talking him into wearing an entirely different wardrobe. It’s highly aggravating that my meddlesome brother has been going through my closet…again, Vergil huffs in his head. But he relents to his brother’s advice despite feeling wary about being deprived of a familiar comfort just so he did not keep everyone waiting.

He picks out a nice dark blue button up shirt and a pair of black dress pants with a matching trench coat before quickly getting ready. When he heads back downstairs, some of the crew raise an eyebrow at him, noticing the obvious change of his usual attire. But he swells with pride when he catches sight of your flushed face as he walks over to you. It reminds him of the expression you had when he was talking to you into the shop’s kitchen, cheeks growing pinker the longer your eyes linger over his bare chest.

As he remembers your cute blunder about “doing pretty boy” his lips twitch into a smug grin, utterly satisfied with himself for rousing such a flustered reaction from you. And when he discerns just how affected you are by his change of clothes…perhaps he should change his wardrobe more often, especially if it elicits such an endearing blush upon your lovely face.

The smug grin quickly disappears, however, when the rather awkward ride in the Devil May Cry van plays in his mind. Usually, there is just barely enough room for the whole crew to stuff themselves inside the messy RV, but there are not enough seats with you joining them. Dante loudly informs you that you can share “frowny flower’s” seat just as Nico revs the engine. Vergil glares his brother’s vulgar suggestion but makes the split-second decision to sit you astride his lap so that you would not get knocked back by Nico’s horrendous driving skills.    

Just the mere memory of your body bouncing against his thighs makes his heart hammer in his chest while his hands fidget faster underneath the table. He remembers having to summon all his willpower not to visibly blush, trying hard not be enraptured by your intoxicating scent while you clutch his shoulders tightly. And any inappropriate thoughts about the sounds that came out of your mouth during the whole ride was quickly snuffed out before you or anyone was none the wiser.

“Flower for your thoughts?”

Vergil feels dainty fingers gently cover his jittery hands as your sweet inquiry brings him out of his improper ruminations. His eyes dart over and peer down at your slightly worried face, your thumb brushing the back of his knuckle fondly as you lean in closer to hear his answer. The corners of his mouth lift into a soft grin before he entwines his fingers with yours as he leans down and whispers by your ear.

“It seems the crew enjoys your company, Y/N.”

A brilliant smile lights up your face. “I can’t help that I’m so poplar!” you lightly jest with a cute pun, cheeks turning pink as you demurely turn your head away.

He chuckles softly, feeling much more at ease as his thumb strokes the back of your hand. When you slip back into the many conversations going on over the table, he notices a certain spark of joy in your eyes as you joke and chat with the rest of the crew. He knows how lonely you get outside of his visits to your garden, and when Dante suggested that you should tag along for dinner, he did not hesitate to invite you.

And now you’re the epitome of beauty in full bloom, my lovely rose.  

Vergil continues to hold your hand away from the prying eyes of the crew underneath the table. He squeezes and caresses your hand every now and then all through dinner, secretly enjoying the subtle glances and coy smirks you give him while caressing his hand back. And towards the end of dinner, he finds himself easily joining in on whatever brash banter and ludicrous tales Dante is currently spinning, inserting his own wry and deadpan comments here and there in between his retelling.

After they are done with dinner, Vergil steels himself for another awkward ride as the crew heads back to the accursed van. You gently tug on his sleeve on the way though and softly point out with an encouraging grin that it is not too far of walk back to your home. His lips curl into a thankful smirk before offering his arm to you as he announces to the rest of the crew that both of you will be walking instead of enduring Nico’s reckless driving again.

“Pff! Still got us here before the big dinner rush, didn’t I?” Nico argues loudly as she tries to light up a cigarette. Before Vergil can even refute her claim, Dante rushes over and quickly cuts him off.

“Say it ain’t cilantro!” he exclaims dramatically while raising his fists towards the sky in mock anguish. Vergil just gives his fool of a brother a blank stare while you laugh and answer him with one of your puns.

“Get clover it!” you quip back playfully.

Dante clutches his chest and gasps. “Your words…they prick me, Buttercup!”

Vergil pinches his brow. “We must make haste before it gets dark, Dante.”

And with that, both of you say your farewells to the crew before departing. Kyrie and Lady both give you a light hug while Nero waves and nods from afar. Dante claps a hand on his shoulder and gives him the most exaggerated wink in all of existence. Vergil scowls at him, feeling close to summoning a sword right behind his nosy brother, but thankfully you are unaware of his brother’s horrible attempt at subtlety.  

Both of you stroll down the street while you gush about the crew and how much fun you had getting to know them over dinner. Vergil smiles and listens intently to your enthusiastic praise, interjecting every now and then with his own commentary, most of them being sarcastic jabs directed towards his brother. You laugh at his wry attempt at humor, affection gleaming behind your eyes as you pull yourself closer to his arm.

Sometime during the light conversation, he recalls the reason behind Dante’s idiotic wink. A couple of days ago, he and his brother received an official invitation to his son’s wedding personally from Kyrie. The invitation itself was very elegant with neat cursive cordially inviting him and “plus one” to the wedding. He remembers raising an eyebrow at this odd phrase and asking his future daughter-in-law the meaning behind it. She smiled sweetly before explaining that she thought he might like to invite a friend as his date to the wedding.  

It only took Vergil a moment to deduce Kyrie’s true intentions before his heart skipped a beat. Even now, as he walks through the city streets with you, just the mere thought of asking you to be his date to the wedding makes him feel both eager and apprehensive. What utter nonsense…a Son of Sparda shouldn’t hesitate, he mentally berates himself. But that still does not quell the odd churning sensation in his stomach as his mind begins to frantically reel, trying to sort out how he should exactly go about this little conundrum.

“That crinkly brow of yours has racked up quite the bouquet today!”

Your cheery voice knocks him out his fretful thoughts. “I beg your pardon?” he replies, never slowing his stride while peering down at you as his brow furrows in slight agitation.

“Oh!” you gasp. “Is that a grumpy frown I see?” you observe playfully, trying your best not to smile by biting your lower lip. “You know what that means…!”

Before he can even retort with his own wry response, you are already throwing the hand not currently wrapped around his arm high up into the air. The bright blue petals of forget-me-nots fall around him soon after, gracefully drifting down as a triumphant grin spreads across your face. Vergil sighs as he passes through the tiny cloud of flowers, but he can never find it in him to be truly annoyed by your spontaneous flower showers.

“You’re just as ridiculously charming as always, Y/N,” he teases you softly, the corners of his mouth twitching into a soft smile as he relishes the blush creeping up your jubilant cheeks.

You giggle softly before clearing your throat. “As I was saying,” you reiterate, placing your free hand back on his arm. “What kind of wedding present are you getting for the happy couple?”

“I must confess,” Vergil starts as you both pause at a corner of a street. “I am…uncertain of what is expected from me in regard to a proper gift,” he admits as his eyes check both sides of the road before leading you across the street.  

“I can help you with that!” you declare with a vibrant grin.

Vergil gives you a grateful smile. “Any assistance you can offer is greatly appreciated, Y/N.”

Both of you brainstorm about what kind of wedding gift is suitable for a father to give his son for the rest of the walk. You list off a bunch of ideas while Vergil listens, nodding his head in approval at some of your suggestions while pondering why weddings have so many complicated customs. However, none of the suggested gifts resonate with him, so you go about it from a different angle. You steer the conversation towards his own interests, explaining that maybe Nero would appreciate a gift that brings his father joy and experience it together.

My lovely rose, you are not only beautiful, but utterly brilliant as well, Vergil mentally praises you as he gazes down at you warmly. He lists off a few of his interests, some you already know about it, but he goes into more detail about why he enjoys them. You grow quiet and stare up at him, tilting your head in thought as you listen attentively to his every word. Your eyes light up when he talks about his prowess in the world of music, absolutely gaping up at him as he mentions his preferred instrument.          

“You have got to be plucking my petal! You play the violin?”

Vergil smirks at your astonished outburst. “I’m quite the accomplished violinist if I do say so myself,” he claims proudly just as he rounds the corner of your street. A contemplative silence is the only answer he receives from you as he leads you towards your very welcoming home. He looks over to see you chewing your lower lip, lost in your own thoughts as your free hand twirls the end of your intricately braided hair.

“Y/N?” he calls out softly as you both walk up your driveway. “Are you well?”

“Yeah!” You blink your eyes a couple of times as you look around and realize where you are. “Just thinking,” you trail off before flashing him a speculative smile. “Does the power of Sparda include the talent for musical performance?”

Vergil quirks an eyebrow at your curious question. “It just so happens that it does.” He ponders for a moment before the meaning behind your question truly sinks in. “Are you suggesting-”

“A violin performance!” you finish, shaking his arm in excitement as you pause in front of your porch. “A stirring violin solo for Nero and Kyrie on their special day!” 

“Hmm…it’s an intriguing idea,” Vergil hums, brow furrowing in thought as he goes over the merits of such a gift. A violin performance does not align itself with the usual choice of wedding gifts, but it most certainly would be very memorable. It would also be a genuine gift from a father to his son, sharing a part of himself that no one has seen for many years. There is only one obstacle that stands in the way of this gift coming to fruition though.

“Unfortunately, the ever-present inconvenience known as my boorish brother does not make the shop the best place for practice,” he bemoans while rolling his eyes in irritation.

“You can borrow my music room if you want,” you propose sweetly.

Vergil’s eyes snap over to you, unsure that he heard you correctly. “Did you say…music room?”

“Yeah!” you confirm with a nod of your head. “C’mon,” you pull on his arm, gently coaxing him to follow you up the porch. “I’ll show you!”

“Well, this is certainly a surprise,” Vergil wonders aloud as you lead him through the front door of your home. “I did not know that you’re a musician as well.”

“I’m not really a musician,” you explain, putting down your purse and straightening your pink floral dress. “Not anymore at least,” you add wistfully as while making your way towards a set of stairs.  

Your sudden change of tone does not go unnoticed by Vergil as he follows close behind. Ever since this friendship between you two has blossomed, he has only ever seen you sad once…when you shared your complicated family history. And now, as he climbs up the stairs, he surmises that this music room must have been your mother’s when both of you lived here. An awful stinging sensation starts to prickle in his chest, not enjoying the fact that he may see you wracked with melancholy again.

Both of you pass by a couple doors before stopping in front of one at the end of the upstairs hall. “And here we are!” you announce in a more chipper tone as you turn the knob and open the door.

The strong scent of dust assaults Vergil’s nose as he steps through the threshold. It is very reminiscent of the stale musty scent of old books wafting through the air of a foregone library. But as he surveys the room, he notes that instead of books, there are shelves and racks full of various instruments and musical accoutrements. And in one corner of the room sits an impressive grand piano, which has escaped the wrath of the dust by being covered with a big piece of white cloth.

“Sorry about the mess!” you fret softly, rushing over a particularly display case. “No matter how many times I dust…!” You take a deep breath and blow a heavy coating of dust off the glass, showing an array of unique instruments inside.

“I take it that all of this is…?” Vergil’s question trails off as his eyes motion towards the entirety of the room.

“My mother was also quite the accomplished musician,” you reveal while turning around to face him. “And she played…well, everything!” you laugh while stretching your arms out wide for emphasis. “This is her instrument collection.” You gesture towards the glass display cases behind you. “And this over here,” you walk across the room and pause in front of a couple of bookshelves, “is where all the sheet music is stored. There’s even some of my mother’s own music that she composed herself!” you announce proudly while pointing to a few folders abundant with pages of staff paper.

Vergil steps over to the shelf and examines the various selection of sheet music. “This is a very impressive collection,” he marvels. “May I?” He reaches for the folders that you indicated as your mother’s original work. You smile and give him an eager nod, which knocks your flower crown slightly askew. This, however, does not diminish your beauty; in fact, it just makes you even more lovely in his eyes. He finds himself subtly admiring you from the corner of his eye as he pulls out the proper folder and begins studying the a few pages filled with ingenious music.  

Your smile turns into a pensive grin as you glance around the room quietly beside him. You hum quietly when something catches your eye in the corner of the room opposite of the piano. “This is where I practiced my breathing techniques,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him, as you wander over to a small chair and table with a candlestick atop its surface. “I tried so hard to not the snuff out the candle while I sang.”

“Now I know why your singing is always so impeccably in tune,” Vergil remarks without looking up from the sheet music. He sees your head snap over towards him in his peripheral vision, eyes wide in surprise as your cheeks turn wonderfully rosy. His lips curl into a cocky grin as he closes the folder and places it back to its proper place on the shelf. He turns his gaze over to the covered piano and raises an inquisitive brow at you. “Do you know how to play?” he asks, finally relenting to the genuine curiosity that has been building up inside him since walking into this room.  

“My grandmother taught me when I lived with her,” you answer softly as you go over to the piano and grab one end of the cloth covering it. You swiftly pull it off in one motion and uncover a spectacularly crafted grand piano. The varnish of its black silken surface shines brightly as you clap your hands free of dust before propping the lid up. The stunning visual of dragonflies buzzing around colorful flowers is painted on the inner side of the lid, a hidden display of rustic beauty among all the elegant majesty.  

You pull out the stool and sit down in front of the keyboard. “Hmm,” you ponder aloud as your hands take up position atop the black and white keys. “It probably needs to be tuned, but…” Your voice fades away as you begin to play the piano.

Vergil is transfixed on the spot as you fill the room with a sincerely charming melody. The song is a pleasant piece called To a Wild Rose if memory serves him right, but it is not what has him so captivated as he listens to your impromptu performance. He cannot help but to compare you to a flower blowing softly in a spring breeze as you sway gently in time with the tune. And every time you close your eyes when the music starts swelling up with emotion he feels utterly entranced like a bee to a bloom, drawing ever closer to his lovely rose as you continue to serenade him with delightful music.

Carefully, he treads across the room to stand beside you, making sure that his presence does not break your concentration as you continue to play. He takes the time to admire the lovely profile of your face as your fingers glide gracefully across the keys, adoring the subtle twitch of your lips as they curl into a tender smile at every musical refrain. But upon closer inspection his keen eyes detect a certain sadness within that warm smile. The pin prickling sensation that always arises within his chest at the mere thought of you being unhappy flares up again as you play the song to its conclusion.      

The final notes of the song echo in the room as your eyes crack open and begin searching for him, looking a bit perplexed until you glance over to your side. “Hoppin’ hyssop!” you gasp, jumping in your seat a little as you clutch your chest in relief.

Vergil smirks as you huff indignantly at him, still so amused by your flowery exclamations every time he manages to startle you with his sudden appearances. But your annoyed expression soon melts away as he continues to hold your gaze. His mind begins to shuffle through many different possibilities, wondering what words he can say that will grace him with that radiant smile once more.      

“Flower for your thoughts?”

He tilts his head at the sound of your endearing question. “You play so beautifully,” he declares, enjoying the way your face flushes at his compliment as he bends down to take a seat on the piano stool. “And yet there was an air of melancholy around you while playing such a delightful song.”

You wince at his words and quickly glance away to stare down at the keyboard as he settles in beside you. Good going, you dunce, Vergil sarcastically rebukes himself. At this rate, you will assuredly win her over with this frank conversation. He flounders for a moment, trying to figure out how to salvage this blundering exchange, but your soft affirmation stops him short.  

“I know,” you sigh, “it’s just…” you pause for a moment, hands wringing the end of your braid as you bite your lower lip. “This room is like bittersweet vines growing in a berry bush.”

Vergil’s brow furrows in confusion at your words. You look up from the keyboard and giggle softly when you see him arch an eyebrow, silently asking you to elaborate on your odd berry analogy. “No matter how hard I try to only pick the sweetest berries from the bush,” you begin explaining while leaning your head to rest against his shoulder. “I still end up eating a few bittersweet ones.”

It grows quiet between the two of you as Vergil makes sense of your words, turning them over and over in his head. He finds it hard to focus though with you nuzzling up against his arm, which summons a strange fluttering feeling in his stomach. But despite the pleasant distraction he somehow manages to understand your words, and it strikes a chord deep within him.

Even though you have moved on to live a better life…the past still comes back to haunt you ever now and then. He knows this feeling very well since he is guilty of brooding on occasion. The prickling in his chest squeezes around his heart as thoughts of his mother come unbidden to the forefront of his mind. Unfortunately, this always brings back memories of the pain he had to endure over the years since that dreadful day, along with the incessant urge to get away from these unpleasant recollections.  

Vergil wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer to him, seeking the solace he currently craves while hopefully bringing you comfort as well. “If it’s too much trouble,” he whispers close by your ear, “I can find somewhere else to-”

“No!” You shake your head gently and gaze up at him with beseeching eyes. “You need a place to practice!” Your face softens as a reassuring grin enhances the rosy hue of your cheeks. “And I think it will be good for me to hear music in this room again.”

Vergil regards you curiously. “And why is that?”

“Even bittersweet berries can lose their acidity with enough sugar.”

And with that small bit of gardening wisdom you finally grace him with the radiant smile that always puts him under your dazzling spell. His lips curve into a warm smile as he lifts his other hand and straightens your flower crown. “Perhaps we can practice together?” he suggests softly.

“Oh, no!” you blurt out while bowing your head down bashfully. “I’m horribly out of practice and I would just slow you down.”

“Nonsense,” he scoffs as his hand gently lifts your chin and beholds your wondrous gaze as his thumb softly strokes your cheek. “It would be an honor to play the violin while you play a piano accompaniment.”

Vergil can practically feel the heat emanating from your blush as it rushes through your cheeks. “Umm, well,” you mumble quietly, “when you put that way…” You give him a gracious smile and a slight nod of your head. “How could I refuse a such an earnest request from such a strikingly handsome devil?”

The melancholic mood hanging in the air completely dissipates and the prickling in his chest releases its grip to make way for the pleasant warmth now flooding through his entire body. He hums and gives you a pleased grin before sighing softly. “I must take my leave soon,” he informs you, which makes your lower lip poke out in a disappointed pout. “But what do you say,” he continues while withdrawing from your personal space, “to a stroll in the garden before I depart?”

“Ooh!” Your pout instantly disappears as you playfully gasp in surprise. “You know it’s pretty rare for me to amble though the flowers at night nowadays!”

“Yes,” he grumbles lowly as his brow furrows in irritation while the memory of the Fury demon attacking you in your garden flashes before his eyes. “At least…not without me as your escort,” he tacks on as an afterthought, hoping that you understand that he only wants to protect you from another horde of demons should they show up after nightfall.

Your eyes soften as you reach up to take his hand, which is still holding your chin. “I know, Vergil.” You stare deeply into his eyes for a moment before flashing a bright smile. “Well, c’mon!” you exclaim excitedly, shooting out of your seat and pulling him around the piano by the hand. “Let’s go!”

Vergil follows you out of the music room, down the stairs, and through the hall into your kitchen. You open the back door and lead him through its threshold, instantly transporting him into another world filled with wonderous blooms. He takes in the pleasant perfume of your garden as you wrap your arm around his elbow. Both of you walk among the flowers nurtured by your own hand, enjoying each other’s company in comfortable silence as twilight settles over the sky.

Even though is quiet between the two of you, Vergil’s mind is a torrent of activity, going back to the matter of asking you to be his “plus one” to the wedding. This stroll through the garden is the perfect opportunity to bring it up, but he is still struggling with the proper words. As he guides you down a more secluded path of your garden, an impressive section of flowers catches his eye. Their delicately layered petals closely resemble a rose, but upon closer inspection he recognizes them to be camellias.

Vergil’s mind immediately stops whirling as he focuses on their meaning. His feet move of their own accord towards the romantic flowers while he draws out a plan inside his head. You look up at him inquisitively as he guides you off the path. “Straying away for a closer look?” you inquire sweetly.

“Yes,” he replies, determination flowing through him as he marches on until coming to a halt in front of the beautiful blooms. “I presume you know about the heart of the camellia?” he questions while peering down at you for confirmation. “How the petals and the…” His mind comes to a blank as he tries to recall the correct term for the leafy part of the stem.

“Calyx,” you inform quietly, nodding your head gently as your eyes gleam with interest.

Vergil hums in appreciation before releasing your arm. “They never separate from each other,” he begins to explain, bending down to pick a pink camellia, the marvelous flower of longing. “Even after death…the petals don’t fall off first like many other flowers,” he continues as his hand moves over and plucks a red camellia, the vibrant flower of passion and deep desire. “They’re always…” He stands back up and turns to face you once more with both flowers in hand.

As he takes a step up get closer to you, Vergil notes how the asters of your flower crown sparkle like stars in the waning light of twilight. His eyes never stray from your tender gaze as he reaches for your hand, and places it on top of his other hand holding the camellias. “Together,” he finishes softly, stroking your hand gently as he relishes the crimson blush spreading across your face, which can only mean that you understand what he is trying to say:  

My heart yearns for you with a fiery passion every moment we are apart.

“Y/N, my lovely rose,” he utters the term of endearment he refers to you in the privacy of his mind aloud for the first. You gasp quietly as his body presses even closer to you and gazes upon your stunning visage with heavy lidded eyes, adoring the way your blushing cheeks glow in the fast approaching night. “Would you do me the honor of being my date to the wedding?”

Your eyes widen as his heartfelt request hangs in the air unanswered. But Vergil’s able to pinpoint the exact moment you comprehend his question as the light in your brilliant eyes shifts from uncertainty to elation. “Yes!” you burst out with a joyous smile. Your arms wrap around his neck as you jump up on the balls of your feet, pulling him into your tight embrace as you squeal in delight by his ear. “Yes, of course I’ll be your date to the wedding!”    

Vergil stands there dumbfound for a moment, still getting used to this kind of close contact, but then he remembers to encircle your waist with his arms. He places the hand still holding the camellias in between your shoulders and the other rests on the small of your back. His head starts to spin as the fragrance of flowers along with your own intoxicating scent ensnares his senses and lulls him into a fervent stupor.

You shift your head back to stare up at him with a radiant smile, which only seems to set that warm feeling pooling in his belly ablaze. He bends his head down and just before he can even fathom what he is doing…his lips press a tender kiss between your brow. His ears pick up a low gasp from you, and he fears for a moment that this gentle gesture is unwanted. But when you let out a sigh of delight and slide your arms from around his neck down to rest against his chest, all tension leaves his body as he lets all his worries go and just basks in this intimate moment between you, him, and the lovely flowers.    

It feels like an entire lifetime has passed until Vergil finally moves away, already missing the feel of your silken skin against his lips the second they leave your brow. He glances down and notices that your eyes are closed, so he rests his head against your forehead and hums softly before he speaks. “It’s getting late,” he murmurs, watching closely as your eyes flutter open and gift him with the sight of your adoring gaze. “I must take my leave now.”

A tiny sliver of sadness twinkles in your eye as your mouth twists into a forlorn frown. “I wish twilight would last just a little bit longer,” you grumble, pressing yourself deeper into his embrace as your hands cling to his shirt.

Vergil chuckles softly at your adorable show of stubbornness while he removes his hand from the small of your back to cup your cheek. Your face is so close his now…he can feel your every breath against his lips. It grows incredible quiet as something shifts in the air, the tenderness from a moment ago now replaced with something more intense. He wants to admit to you that he also abhors leaving your side day after day, but it seems his mind is struggling to find the proper words. So, he does what he has always done in the past: recite a poem that perfectly captures this heady moment:    

Wild nights - Wild nights!

Where I with thee

Wild nights should be

Our luxury!

 Futile - the winds -

To a Heart in port -

Done with the Compass -

Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden -

Ah - the Sea!

Might I but moor - tonight -

In thee!

When his recitation ends, he nuzzles his face even closer to yours, feeling you take several shaky breaths as he tenderly brushes his thumb across your cheek. Even though there is not much light outside his keen eyes can still detect the endearing blush upon your lovely face, reminding him more and more of the camellias at his feet. He can also see your eyes glowing with unrestrained ardor and once again he feels himself getting pulled closer and closer…    

Vergil turns his head slightly and presses a soft kiss just above the corner of your lips. You whimper softly and clutch onto his shirt tighter, which only stirs the flames of desire as he withdraws, enjoying the satisfaction that comes with coaxing that exquisite sound from you. “I shall escort you back to you home now,” he declares softly while taking a step back and offering his arm to you.

“Huh?” You shake your head and blink your eyes a couple times before fully registering his words. You glare at him cutely as you take his arm and Vergil just smiles smugly in return before leading you back to your house through the garden. When both of you arrive at the backdoor of your home, you pout and sigh sadly as you glance up at him with doleful eyes. “Well…here we are,” you state the obvious as you continue to cling to his arm. “I guess I’ll see you soon?” you ask with a hopeful smirk.

Vergil hums in amusement before freeing himself from your vice grip on his arm. He gently takes both of your hands and places a kiss atop both of your knuckles before responding. “Until we meet again, my lovely rose.”

You grant him one last radiant smile before heading into your house, but then you turn around and peek your head out through the door. “Until then…Vergil,” you murmur back with an impish grin as you slowly reach out and take the pink camellia from his grasp. Your delicate fingers caress the inside of his palm before retreating to your side, giving him one last longing look before closing the door.

A dreamy smile sneaks onto Vergil’s face as he exits your garden through the back gate, not bothering with summoning the Yamato and opening a portal back to the shop. Instead, he strolls down several streets, feeling like the luckiest devil in the world while the day’s events play in his mind like a movie. The entertaining dinner with the rest of the crew, the discovery of your music room, the passionate moment by the camellias…he is still flying high from the fact that you wholeheartedly agreed to be his date to the wedding!

When he finally arrives at his destination, he completely forgets to reign in his dreamlike state as he opens the door and enters the shop. He is vaguely aware of Dante sitting behind his desk, gawking at him like an oafish buffoon as he drifts past the desk and up the stairs without so much as a greeting. His mind is too occupied with thoughts of your radiant smile, your welcoming embrace, and that lovely sound you uttered when he nearly kissed your lips.

As Vergil enters his room, he wonders if he could talk you into performing with him at the wedding. And if he is successful…he hums at his own clever idea since that would mean even more time spent with his lovely rose. He brings the red camellia up to his nose for a sniff, feeling excited by what may blossom from his more amorous advances in the future. And as he stores the desirous bloom with the growing pile of gifted flowers, he muses that you are like its delicately layered petals and he is like the protective calyx underneath them.

And both are bound together by the heart of the camellia.

Read Part 8 (Ch.1) right here

Read  on Ao3

My Masterlist if you want more 💖

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[buns-with-a-book]

A Portrait, Restored

For Day Five of DMCWeek2020, the prompt chosen was Heal! Although there’s no physical healing done in the fic, restoring a fire-damaged portrait is kinda like healing. (I know I’m stretching this)

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: OC, Nero, Vergil, Dante Tags: @furyeclipse @nimnox @i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate @queenmuzz @astral-space-dragon @harlot-of-oblivion

Summary: Cassandra finally has the restored family portrait of Sparda, Eva, and the twins as boys and presents it to Nero as a birthday present, giving him the closest glimpse he has of his paternal grandparents.

Cassandra paced in front of the restored portrait. Time and money had been poured over the portrait, suffering from over twenty years of damage through time and flames. It was a miracle that it could be restored at all. But here it was, resting against the wall of Devil May Cry.

She never knew that Sparda looked so...human. If any normal person would’ve seen this portrait, they would’ve presumed it was of a rich family in some stereotypical gothic mansion. Would they have ever guessed that this was the portrait of the Legendary Dark Knight, his wife, and his twin sons? Would they merely presume that she was speaking in jest?

The door opened, causing Cassandra to look up. Entering the shop was Nero, followed by Vergil. She stepped back, allowing Nero to see the portrait in its entirety. Nero looked to the portrait, to Vergil, to her, and then back to the portrait.

“What’s all this?” He asked.

“That would be your grandparents, Nero.” Vergil said. She could tell he was resisting the urge to glare at his son. Nero looked to the portrait. She noticed the disbelief in his eyes.

“Is that...really Sparda?” Nero asked.

“Around us and Mother, yes. I do not recall a time he ever showed his demonic form to us.” He paused, watching as Dante stepped inside. “Dante, did Father ever show us his demonic form?”

“Oh yeah, once when we were real young. You were screaming for hours afterward, you were that terrified of it!” Dante laughed. “Why’d you ask-” He rounded the corner, seeing the restored portrait and Nero staring at it. “Oh.”

“It came by a week ago. I’ve kept it under a tarp while you two went to fetch Nero.” Cassandra explained. “It’s for him. He’s got nothing of your parents so…” She awkwardly gestured at the portrait. “Here it is.”

“Do you think…?” Nero asked, so softly that Cassandra swore she didn’t hear it. His gaze was fixed on Vergil.

“...Mother and Father would have adored you, Nero.” Vergil raised a hand. It hovered hesitantly over Nero’s shoulder before carefully resting on it. “I have no doubt about it.”  Nero nodded. His gaze moved to Cassandra.

“So uh...where are we gonna put it?” Cassandra blinked.

“Uh…That. Is a good question.”

[djevelengriner]

May I request a fluff Vergil x reader? Honestly he needs some loving too

Yes, we stan Vergil here.

I'm imagining a scenario where you're in the Qliphoth with Vergil, as his helper or whatever. You're both waiting for Dante, who's on his way to defeat his brother.

Vergil x gender neutral reader | fluff-ish

Vergil was standing at the edge of a rotten cliff, looking down into the depths of the Qliphoth. He had not moved an inch for a good hour and the energy around him was so tense that you did not dare to speak to him. He had a wide stance and you could see that he was leaning on his sword in front of him. You stood up carefully, but the sound of you shifting your weight made the ground creak loudly. Vergil side eyed you and his cold stare made you freeze where you were standing. "You should leave." He said sternly. You swallowed hard and tried to relax your shoulders. "As if you could handle Dante by yourself!" You said jokingly, but the look he gave you when he turned around made you regret saying anything. Vergil always looked angry but the face he made at you then made his usual self seem approachable. "I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't jest--"

"Leave." He cut you off without blinking. You could not stand to watch him wait around so tense any longer and found some courage to take a step towards him. He clenched his jaw and his grip around the sword handle tightened. "Do not disobey me." He hissed through his teeth. "Vergil..." You said gently and put your hands up in front of you. "I just want to help you relax a bit. You need to gather some strength."

He pulled out the giant katana and in one swift motion he was in front of you and held the tip of the blade against your throat. You felt the cold steel wanting to pierce through you and you froze yet again. "So, you think I'm not strong enough?" He growled. A drop of sweat fell from the tip of your nose and onto the blade. "N-no, I didn't mean it like that! Please!" You stuttered and put your hand on the blade to carefully push it away. "Listen to me."

He looked at you for a few seconds before inhaling sharply and putting the sword away. You exhaled and felt almost light headed from the relief. "Thank you..." You whispered and ran a hand through your hair to get it out of your face. Vergil was staring at you, waiting for you to speak. "I... uhm... I want to help you relax," you said and took a step towards him. He did not move, much to your surprise, so you dared to take another. "I know you hate physical contact, but," you placed a light hand on his shoulder and felt him tense up under your touch. "I think it'll help." You smiled politely. Something changed in his eyes and his expression softened. "Fine." He mumbled. Your heart skipped a beat and your cheeks felt warm. You did not expect him to let you do this. This was your chance!

You wrapped your arms around his waist and squeezed him tightly. You leaned your head against his chest and felt his heart beat... fast. It was like hugging a marble sculpture but it felt nice, since it was him. You had wanted to touch him for so long and see if he was as cold as he looked but he was soft and warm. It felt safe.

Vergil was unsure of what to do or how to feel. He had not been hugged like that since he was a child. Their hair tickled his chin and he felt a need to lean on their head and wrap his fingers in their hair, but...

"How do you feel?" You asked and looked up, still with your arms around him. He was looking straight ahead but you could see a hint of color in his usually pale white face. Could he really be blushing?

"Uncomfortable." He muttered. You felt your heart sink and you let go of him. "Sorry. How silly of me to think a hug would help..." You sighed and stepped back without meeting his eyes. "I'll be going, then. But I'll come running if I hear too much of a commotion." You smiled and turned around but before you could take even one step Vergil had his hand firmly on your shoulder. "Wait." He said. You turned around and he embraced you awkwardly. You were so shocked that you could not move and your entire body felt hot. You let your left arm hold around his waist while you ran your fingers through his (surprisingly) soft hair. He eased into the embrace and he felt heavier. "I miss you..." Vergil mumbled into your neck. "What?" You giggled. He suddenly pushed you away. You were thoroughly confused and felt embarrassed all of a sudden. He had the look of a confused and sad child for a brief second before turning cold again. "Leave. Now." He said and turned around and walked back to his post. You sighed and turned around. As you were walking you turned to get a last look at the lonely man by the cliff and caught him glancing over his shoulder at you. He quickly turned his attention to the abyss when your eyes met. "Don't die on me, Verg."

[kalbastion]

Of Witches And Demons {Chapter 1}

(Just trying something new. Might as well try my hand at writing to see how people like it here. This is more of a Devil May Cry fanfic with an OC instead of a reader. It’ll be a Vergil X OC, but Vergil will appear at a much later date.)

Everything had been quiet in the Resident District of Red Grave City. 

Well, as quiet as the city could ever be. Especially near a rather small shop in a not-so small building. Outside with glowing red neon lights labeled the shop as “Devil May Cry.” Sitting inside Of the building was a man named Dante, owner of said shop, reclining on the back legs of his chair, his feet on the desk, while in his hands was a magazine. 

The man was clearly bored, not having had a job in a fairly long time. So the only way that he could occupy his time was with his magazines. Not even the pool table interested him, or any of the books on the shelf in the back. After all, most of those books weren’t his, but instead one of his partners. So to him they were even more boring. The weapons mantled on the wall behind him weren’t interesting either. The only thing really worthwhile was the music playing from his jukebox, but he was beginning to think he needed to buy some new songs, too, as even they were becoming a bore. 

So for now, the magazine with the pretty ladies inside will have to do. As he was flipping the page he heard a knock on his door, only for it to swing open before he even said a word. Peeking up from behind his magazine was a familiar face. The man strolled in, greeting Dante as he was already suited for business, accompanied with a cigar in hand. Dante couldn’t help but smile, quickly placing his magazine down as he was practically begging for something better to do. As much as the man enjoyed being lazy and having free time, he’s been dying for something to do.

“Greetings, Dante,” exclaimed the man as he walked in rather quickly. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Morrison, my man!” Dante exclaimed back, his legs folding off of the desk as he sat on all legs of his chair, resting an arm forward on the desk. “You know, I was just about to call you to see if you had any jobs for me.”

“Yeah, right,” Morrison gave Dante a look, knowing just how the man worked. He gave his cigar a puff before pulling it away from his lips, smoking coming out along with his speech. “But, I do have a job for you. And I think you should really pay attention to this one.”

“Really, now?” Dante raised a brow, his grin not faltering as he stared up at the man before him.

“I stumbled upon this client on the streets,” Morrison explained rather quickly. “Was in the middle of a match with demons before coming up to me and asking about the place. They explained to me the job, and well, I really do think you should have a listen yourself…”

Dante couldn’t help but furrow his brow together. As straightforward as Morrison was, he also had a talent for being vague all the same. Dante put his hands out in a sign of a shrug. After all, it’s been a while since he’s had a decent job, and from how Morrison was talking, it might just be worth his while.

“Alright,” Dante said before leaning forwards again, “Who’s this client, then?”

Morrison stepped to the side, silently gesturing his hand out towards the door. 

Needless to say, Dante’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Standing in the doorway was a very unfamiliar woman. She was leaning her back against the door, arms crossed, as she had her own brow quirked at Dante. A sly smile was on her dark red lips, her head tilted down as she was looking back at Dante through her own eyelashes. She practically radiated a sort of promiscuous aura, seeming ready to play in any and all ways. Immediately noticing her attire, the white haired man couldn’t help but wonder what her occupation was. She wore a rather tight fitting black suit, the top of it seeming to have drapes from her shoulders that had a golden trim at the ends. 

Dante couldn’t help but notice the shine of a red jewel on her chest, right above the slit open window of her chest. It was a large contrast to the dark clothing that she wore, which seemed to grab his attention. Dante genuinely couldn’t help but wonder if this woman was from the strip joint near his place, but he’s never seen this woman before, and a jewel like that on her chest seemed to suggest otherwise.

“Meet your client,” Morrison spoke up, snapping Dante’s attention away from the woman’s figure.

“You may call me Cecelia,” spoke the woman, finally pushing herself away from the door as she walked forwards, accompanied by the clicking of the heels she wore. “I’ve heard much about you, legendary demon hunter, Dante.”

“Oh really now?” Dante couldn’t help but lean towards her over his desk, his own smirk gracing his lips. “Are you sure you’re here for a job, or for a night of pleasure?”

The woman, Cecelia, huffed out a laugh as she glanced to the side. She gazed around the place as she spoke. “My apologies, but I’m not exactly here for pleasantries. I have more pressing matters, and I believe you’re the man to help me with it.”

“And what’s that?” Dante asked with a quirk of his brow, resting his chin against his left hand.

“You see, my circumstances are rather… strange,” Cecelia said as she brushed back her long raven hair, which Dante couldn’t help but let his eyes follow as it flowed through her hands and off of her shoulders. “But it shouldn't be a problem for you. To make a looong story short, there are demons being sent after me by a rather secret, but not exactly unknown, organization called “The Charmer Sanction.” Ever heard of it before?”

Dante’s smile finally faltered, the man leaning back in his seat as he kept a hand on his desk. He’s heard of this organization before. Hell, they’ve interfered in small jobs he’s had in the past. Needless to say, not every encounter he’s had with them was pleasant. So hearing about this woman before him being chased by this organization with demons definitely peaked his confusion.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it,” Dante finally answered her question. “They've interrupted plenty of my jobs in the past. I still got my pay, but I can’t say we’re on “friendly” terms, to be exact.”

“Perfect!” Sang the woman as she firmly placed her hands on her hips. “Neither am I. Now, here’s where things get tricky.” The smile she had on before fell as her tone turned serious. “You see, I don’t exactly know why they’re after me. But the demons they keep sending after me keep getting harder, and harder to battle. I can hardly walk around in the cities anymore with those vermin on my tail! Not to mention that they don’t really care for the casualties in their wake.”

“Hold it right there,” Dante raised a hand up to her to signal for her to pause her story. “So, you’re being chased by demons sent by an organization full of magical beings, and you’ve got no idea why that is?” He couldn’t hold in a rather dry bark of laughter. “Haha! I feel like I’ve read this in a comic somewhere.”

“She’s being serious, Dante,” Morrison spoke up, flicking the ashes off of his cigar into an ashtray on Dante’s desk. “I was walking down the street and saw her fighting those things. She saved my life before I could be cut down by one of those bastards. Those demons don’t care about who’s around, and I was almost one of those casualties…”

“I don’t wish to be the fault of lives ending just because I decided to walk the streets,” Cecelia said, her voice rather somber unlike the aura she had been carrying before. “I need help, whether I like it or not. It was mere coincidence that I saved your employer, but I’m rather glad I did.”

“And I thank you kindly for saving my life again, Miss Cecelia,” Morrison with a genuine tone of gratitude in his voice.

“So that’s why you brought her here,” Dante sighed as he gazed at Morrison from the corner of his eye. “Look, you seem like a sweet woman and all, but I’ve got no influence on this “Charmer Sanction.” I can’t exactly stop them from sending demons after you.”

“No, perhaps not,” softly spoke Cecelia as a smirk curled upon her lips again. “But your aid would be very much appreciated. Think of it as more of an escort mission. I just need your help in killing demons, nothing more. After all the rumors that I’ve heard, you’re quite the man when fighting against demons…”

Dante had a smirk curled on his lips, but he couldn’t help but have a brow raised at her. He could see that she definitely was trying to rub up his ego, if not trying to borderline flirt with the man. It was rather hard for him to hold his tongue, remembering that Morrison was standing right next to him. But something just felt off about the woman before him. Something’s telling him that she’s not somebody to really be messed with.

“It’s good to know that my reputation precedes me,” Dante exclaimed as he pulled his legs back up into his chair, folding each ankle over the other. “But I got to wonder, what in the hell did you do to make such a powerful branch of power come after you.”

Cecelia sighed, her arms crossing again as she tilted her head to the floor. It was clear that she expected the question, but seemed to also be dreading it.

“That’s a bit of where the catch is,” Morrison spoke up for the lady as the cigar smoke left his nose. “You see, Miss Cecelia here has lost her memories, apparently. Says that she’s got no idea what she did, but all she really knows in her name.”

“You lost your memories?” Dante questioned, officially not sure how he feels about this job now. “How the hell did that happen?”

“What a funny question!” Cecelia said in jest, her voice dripping with a cheerful sound of sarcasm. “I would love to know myself, but you wouldn’t happen to know where my memories have gone, have you?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll admit, not my best question,” Dante said with his hands raised towards her as if to show surrender. “But how the hell am I supposed to help you when you don’t even have your own memories together?”

“That’s the thing,” Cecelia said as she moved her left hand as she spoke. “I wish I could say this was a recent incident, but I’ve lost my memories for almost five years now. During that time I was able to regain bits of it, but I’ve never been able to fully recover from my memory loss. All that I truly know is that I once was a part of The Charmer Sanction, but now they wish for my blood on their hands. As for why, I can’t say. The only thing I can make of it from my encounters with that is that I somehow broke their rules…”

Dante exhaled heavily, pulling his legs back off of his desk as he leaned away from the woman. “Yeah, uh, now that’s a bit of a problem. You see, I’ve seen what these guys do to “rule breakers,” and it ain’t pretty. No offense, sweetheart, but I don’t exactly want to be a part of that. I’m already on bad terms with them, and I don’t feel like having demons going after my head. I already have to deal with that.”

“Please! I promise that I’ll pay you a large sum of money!” Cecelia exclaimed, her hands hitting his desk as she leaned towards him. Her flirty demeanor was completely gone and replaced with desperation. “All that I ask is that you help me fend off these creatures so they don’t kill innocent civilians. I can only do so much with my powers, and even now I feel my powers waning from how much I’ve been fighting. I’ll pay in any way that you want me to. I just need your skill and your blade, that’s all I ask!”

Dante sighed again, now feeling rather annoyed by her insistence. The story he was being told felt a little far fetched, and it wouldn’t be the first time that somebody tried to use sob stories to get him into a job. There was also a bit of risk for him as well if he did accept this job. His eyes darted all over her expression to see just how genuine that whole story was.

Her blue eyes bored into his, her brows furrowed as she stared intensely at him. Not only was her desperation clear in her voice, but even her eyes conveyed the emotion. Now that he was looking at her, she did seem a bit wary. She was rather good at holding her composure, but even he could notice the slightest bouncing of her shoulders as her nose flared slightly from her heavy exhales. Dante couldn’t help but sigh, wondering how much he was going to regret this job.

“Tell me,” he said and he decided to humor her a bit, “what exactly is your plan here, and what are you trying to do?”

The woman became quiet for a moment. She recomposed herself and pushed off of his desk, standing up straighter as she gazed back at him. She took in a deep breath before speaking.

“I just wish to have my memories back,” Cecelia spoke quietly, but was loud enough for Dante to hear. “...To be truthful, I don’t wish to drag anybody into my burden. I want to figure out what I did to have The Charmer Sanction to be after me. I want to fix those wrongs, and… I don’t want to die before I recover what I lost… All that I ask is for an extra blade to help me along the way. I promise to pay you in any way you want afterwards. I just need help...”

Dante couldn’t help but pick up on the sincerity in her voice, seeing just how her shoulders were sagging as her hand was clutched against the open window of her chest. The smile was completely gone from Dante’s face as he stared at hers. She truly did seem desperate, and almost ashamed for even announcing her need for help. The white haired man sighed yet again, a small smirk returning on his face as he looked back up at her.

“Alright,” Dante grunted as he stood from his chair. “I was getting bored anyway. Tell me, just where do you plan on going?”

Cecelia seemed to be taken aback, not expecting him to finally say yes. Nonetheless, she finally spoke up. “...I was going to go to The Charmer Sanction’s city, Néma. I can only assume that my old home was there, so perhaps I can gain something from it.”

“Sounds good,” Dante said as he turned behind him, gripping his favored sword and strapping it to his back. “Morrison, I’ll be taking the job.”

“I knew you’d agree,” Morrison said with a bit of a chuckle. “Now, miss Cecelia, care to explain to my associate of how and where you can get to Néma city?”

“Of course,” Cecelia said as she recovered from her surprise. “Once we leave Red Grave City we—”

Before the mysterious woman could say another word, the sound of glass shattering rang in the air along with the door slamming open. Bursting into the Devil May Cry shop was dark, lanky demons as they seemed dead set on attacking what was inside. Their skin was a dark red, reminding Dante of flesh, as he picked up on the strange strands of what almost seemed like a black and whte collar wrapped around their necks.

Cecelia seemed to be still, her back still towards the mess as there seemed to be a smile on her face. Morrison exclaimed in shock and began gripping onto Dante’s desk, one hand clutching his hat while the other dropped his cigar so he could grab the desk.

“Not this shit again…!” Morrison exclaimed, already breaking into a nervous sweat.

Dante was in the middle of pulling out his sword, moving around his desk quickly. “Hey, princess, get out of the—”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

A distinct sound of gunshots cut Dante off, causing him to halt in his steps. Cecelia had pulled her hand behind her, her body still facing Dante’s desk, as she fired a gun right over her shoulder. How and where the gun came from, Dante had no idea, but he did notice that each shot hit right into the three targets that busted into his shop. 

Each demon fell and disappeared into a familiar glow of dust, only to which did Cecelia finally turn, but only to face Dante. He could now see the smirk on her face with narrowed eyes accompanying them. At first Dante assumed it was smugness, but only when he locked eyes with her did he realize that it radiated malice.

“Frankly, I’m not a fan of being so rudely interrupted,” Cecelia stated calmly to him. “And furthermore, I do not appreciate the nickname, “Princess.” You may call me Cecelia, or something along those lines, because I won’t hesitate to shoot you myself if you get upon my nerves.”

Dante couldn’t help but chuckle at her, feeling almost a mix between being impressed or feeling almost insulted by her words. Then again, with his luck with women, she probably wasn’t kidding. He’s had his full share of being shot at by women, he’ll say that much. He knew when to lay off.

“Alright then,” Dante said as he gazed at the disappearing bodies on his floor. “I thank you for responding so quickly to an attack on my shop. Frankly I’m not very happy about the broken windows and doors, but I can’t say that it’s the first time it’s happened. Honestly, I’m feeling more pumped to kick some demon ass!”

“I’m glad that we’re in agreement,” Cecelia said as she put her gun down. With a flick of her wrist the gun was enveloped into a bluish flame, disappeared right out of her hands and out of sight. “As I was saying, as soon as we exit Red Grave City we head east. After a bit of travel, we should easily get there within two to three days. But that all depends on how we travel, and how often the demons find us.”

“Sounds good,” Dante said and looked at the shaken broker, who was still clutching his desk in shock. “I’ll catch you around, Morrison. Think you can get a repairman for the windows and doors?”

“U-uh, yeah, sure,” Stuttered the man as he slowly began to collect himself, his eyes still on the placement of where the demons had been. “Just don’t expect me to sleep the night…”

“The only people I expect sleeping here are Trish and Lady, and even then that’s asking for too much,” Dante said as he began making his way to his broken door, Cecelia trailing right behind him. “By the way, Morrison, mind putting out that cigar? I’d rather not find out that my shop burned down while I was gone.”

“Ah, shit…!” Hissed Morrison as he began stopping out the cigar he had dropped.

Dante chuckled slightly as he exited his shop, Cecelia following right after him. They both started making their way down the streets, knowing that the nearest bus stop wasn’t exactly close to his working space. At first it was quiet between them, but not for long as Dante wasn’t one to really keep his mouth quiet.

“That’s a nice trick you did with that gun back there,” Dante said and he gazed down at the woman now beside him. “Tell me, something tells me you aren’t exactly as human as you look to be.”

Cecelia smirked in his direction, as if mirroring his expression, as she gazed at him with the slight tilt of her head. “How observant you are. But I’m sorry to say that I am, indeed, fully human. Being a part of The Charmer Sanction has a bit of a benefit of powers. I don’t precisely know just the full extent of my powers, but I know enough to have survived this long. Magic is quite handy, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Seems a bit suspicious to me,” Dante said as he eyed the woman strutting beside him. “Something tells me that there’s more to it than what you’re telling me.”

“What, do you expect every magician to tell their secrets?” Cecelia countered as she simply shrugged at him. “Sorry, but you’ll have to try harder to get the answer out of me. After all, I’ve got memory problems.”

“Uh-huh,” Dante eyed her as he nodded. “Playing hard to get, I see. Gotta say, I love that in a woman.”

Cecelia spun around, facing Dante as she walked backwards, one hand on her hip as her attention was on him. “Oh, I’m sure you do, Mr. Demon Slayer. I enjoy a good chase every now and then…”

With a brief wink at the taller man, the woman spun around again, facing forwards as they were nearing a bus stop sign. Dante couldn’t help but keep his eyes on the new companion next to him, watching how she strut as she seemed to hold an air of confidence. Or was it pride? Either way, even from their interactions he could tell she wasn’t like his other companions, Lady and Trish. 

Although sometimes the women would tease Dante a bit, they never tried to flirt with him. But Cecelia was a completely different story. Flirting just seemed to be in her nature, and it was obvious that she knew she had a charm over men like Dante. It really made the man wonder if she had been a sort of escort in the past, or some sort of job like that. Perhaps he was getting his hopes up? Probably. Either way, he couldn’t help but wonder about her situation instead of the way her clothes seemed a little too tight on her body.

Soon enough the two reached the bus stop, only having to wait for a short bit of time before the bus came. They both hopped on, each paying for their seat, as they both sat across from each other towards the back. Thankfully since it was late, not many people were on the bus. But that doesn’t mean that Dante was willing to sit with this client. After all, if she could summon a gun out of thin air, he had no doubt she could summon other things.

The bus ride was quiet for a while, nobody really seemed willing to talk, and thankfully anybody else on the bus didn’t seem too excited to make much noise. After all it was a bit late, which meant a quicker drive and less stops, hopefully. As they traveled Dante would look to Cecelia every now and then, just to see if she was doing anything. She sat as close as she could to the window, her legs crossed and her chin in the palm of her left hand. She was gazing out the window, her face stoic as she watched the scenery pass by them. Dante couldn’t deny the mysterious beauty she had, but he still couldn’t help but feel like something was off.

Unable to really put his finger on it, he decided to let it slide. Taking up two seats, leaning against the window with his hands intertwined behind his head, not really caring that part of him was taking up half the lane. After all this ride was going to be long, and Dante preferred to get as much shut eye as he could on missions like these. He glanced at Cecelia one last time, wondering just exactly who she was before he closed his eyes shut. He began to think of peaceful things, as much as he could, as it was the only way to coax himself to sleep.

But that sleep was interrupted by the loud sound of shattering glass.

[thedyingmoon]

I dont know if im doing this correctly... god i hope so. Im a virgin at tumblr and at sending asks. First i need to tell you that I love your writing, "I see my future before me" is amazing and so enjoyable and "chat buddies" is so funny. I love vergil and V so much. Now i wanna ask something i know you say that you dont do smut and thats perfectly fine, but... what about a romantic/make out session with V inside a Phone thingy. Hugs and kisses(you dont have to do it if you feel unconfi with it)

Hello! I'm so sorry this took a long time to do. 🙈🙈🙈

Anyway, here you go. Enjoy!

A/N: Written while listening to Rachmaninoff ( the king of angst ) Piano Concerto No. 2 in D minor.

***

🖤 Stay 🖤

***

Everything was ruined the moment you decided to confess to him.

Well, yeah, at first you thought he was intimidating and all, considering the fact that he kept to himself most of the time and actually gave no shits to others around him. And during those times when he did bother to join the team, he would always assert dominance over everyone, including you, and that would make things a bit harder, albeit more organized, since any of you no longer had to formulate proper strategies, since he already made some.

But, you had to admit that, during those times when you do get to go with him during missions, you learned his gestures, his distinct mannerisms, heck, even his habit of quoting poetry. And then, you realized that he was actually not the person you thought he was when you first saw him.

The cleverness of his every action, the tenacity to stay alive, the authority he exudes, the kindness he radiates, the sheer strength of his willpower,...

... his love for poetry, his deep voice, his emerald - colored eyes, his smile,...

... and yes, that smile,...

Ah, yes. It was safe to say that, after a month of being with the tattooed poet, you fell head over heels for him.

And that, alone, was a vast understatement.

And it came to the point where keeping your feelings all to yourself was no longer bearable that you just had to confess ( with a little urging from the others, especially Griffon, who kind of sensed your feelings from the very beginning ).

So, one day, that one fateful day, you mustered up all the courage you could, walked up to him and called his attention.

Then, you said it, the dreaded three words, matched and laced by other jumbled phrases and sentences that you could barely remember.

And, just like that, he told you, flat out, that the feelings aren't mutual, and that he could not, would not, reciprocate through any means.

Of course, you two came to a point where a sort of friendship was established between the two of you.

But,...

Everything was ruined the moment you decided to confess to him.

No.

More like fucked up.

And that was three whole months ago since that summer month.

Despite the embarrassing situation you two were in because of that failed attempt at an honest - to - goodness confession, you still went on missions together because no other Demon Hunter in your team could match his unique skills than you ( the others are just too brash and unrefined ). Of course, the first few weeks were very awkward. The two of you found it hard to look into each other's eyes and you barely talked to each other. The atmosphere around the two of you felt heavy and stiffling that you honestly regretted your decision to confess and ruin your decent friendship.

But, soon enough, after a few more days, you learned to move casually around him like before. You managed to maintain eye contact with him for a few minutes and regained your confidence to speak with him without feeling uncomfortable.

A few days after those torturous weeks, you learned to be yourself once more, despite the fact that you cried yourself to sleep for nights on end after his rejection.

Despite the fact that you tried to hide the bags under your eyes with heavy foundation,...

Despite the fact that you stopped listening to music entirely because every song, every lyric, every story, reminded you of him,...

Despite the fact that you were losing your appetite and that the others were beginning to notice your weight loss,...

Despite the fact the you hid all the hurt behind a smile while telling everyone that you're okay,...

Despite the fact that it hurt you even more to see him on a daily basis, reluctantly reminding yourself that you two were just not meant for each other and that you should move on.

...

And move on, you shall.

You were still in this one - sided painful loop of emotions that one cold and dreary day out in an unknown town with V for a mission when something truly unexpected happened.

You and V made your way to the only phone booth in town ( which was located in the middle of an almost empty road a few kilometers away from the next distinguishable establishment or building ) to call Nico and let her know that you successfully finished your mission.

As usual, V was the one who entered the booth to use the phone while you patiently waited outside.

Your back was turned against him all this time but, you suddenly felt an urge to look back at him like something, like an unknown force, pushed you to do it.

And there he was, actually staring at you as he talked to Nico on the phone. He had this strange look in his eyes and his eyebrows were furrowed as if he was deep in thought.

Your own eyebrows furrowed as well.

Was there something wrong?

However, you were not given the chance to muse about this any longer as rain started falling from the sky. You gasped and flinched with the sudden coldness, instinctively trying to cover your head with your hands as you made your way inside the booth. And as you entered, the cramped space did nothing but heighten the tension that V seemed to sense around you, and it actually made you very, very uncomfortable.

Well, there's no other way, right? He has to put up with the lack of space. After all, it would be for the last time -

"Who is Leon?"

At the sound of utter confusion and shock in his deep voice, you glanced up at the man who was only mere inches away from you.

"Oh, he's,..." you began, uncertain how he found out about Leon Kennedy. But, of course! Nico had to mention him to V. " ... my new partner. A high profile client from Europe has commissioned us to take on a top secret mission the day after tomorrow."

To those simple words you just uttered, V's eyes widened even more.

"So, you're,..." V began, his face getting darker by the second. "... you're coming back, right?"

Damn you for being such a big mouth, Nico!

You bit your lip, thinking it was no use to hide the secret from V any longer.

"V, I'm staying there. For good."

Silence. At first, you thought his stricken reaction would only be momentary, since he really didn't have any sort of connection to you to begin with, so there's actually no use in him even reacting, at all.

Until,...

"You're leaving and you never once told me while the others already know." He pressed on, his voice suspiciously getting darker and darker. Like he actually cared about you leaving him. "Why?"

You laughed nervously at his question, actually feeling kind of cornered that V was interrogating you this way like some kind of a criminal.

But, why even bother? You are nothing to him, and you knew that! You learned the hard way,...

"Aren't you happy that I'm finally getting a much better career opportunity?" You attempted to answer in a light - hearted, even jesting, tone, hoping, praying, for the gravity of your words to reach V. "I mean, me! The second rate Demon Hunter me finally getting a once in a lifetime chance to work at a better place! How cool is that?"

"You did not,... answer,... my question."

You slightly drew back at what you just witnessed. Somehow, V looked conflicted in some way. His eyes, which was giving you intense stares since that moment he talked to Nico on the phone, never left yours, and his posture looked more intimidating than ever before.

And he looked mad, and,... possibly hurt,... at the same time for some reason,...

You only sighed. "V, I see no reason to let you know. I mean, hey, at least you won't have to deal with my shit any longer."

"I never,... said,... you were shit."

Once again, you flinched at his words. "Don't make this any harder for the both of us. We both know this would happen any time, and you know this is inevitable."

To your utter shock and total fear, the man slammed a hand against the glass door of the booth mere inches away from the side of your face. Your shoulders tensed, your eyes closed, you were so confused as to what was going on between the two of you.

And so, so scared.

Why, V? Why?

"I' am making this harder for the both of us?!" You never heard V talk in such a way, and it honestly frightened you to the core. This is not the V you were used to. He was kind, and gentle, he was soft, and above all, understanding,...

But, all of those things were absent from him, and you honestly don't know anymore who you were talking with.

"Please, V, stop this - "

"Are you just escaping me, then?"

Your eyes snapped open, and when you finally looked at his eyes, you saw the hurt, the anguish, the torment in them.

There was no mistaking it.

He didn't want you to leave. At all.

"Maybe."

You flinched as another hand slammed on the door, this time on the opposite side. That's it, you were hopelessly trapped by the man.

By the man you still adored above all else.

"Why?!"

"I want to move on, V!" The words came out of your mouth ripped your heart apart, the gravity and truth in them hurting you and torturing you from the inside. "Every time I see you, my eyes sting. Every time I hear your voice, my chest hurts. Every time I see your face, my body goes weak. I thought I cried enough for you but, I was wrong! How stupid of me to think I was finally learning to move on but, no! As always, I'm wrong!"

"(Y/N),..."

"You listen: I want to go away from here, away from you, as far as possible! So I could learn to be myself again! So I could learn to enjoy the things I once loved! So I could learn to smile without getting hurt again!

"I love you so much, V. But, I know I mean nothing to you! I know you never cared! I know I'll never be good enough for you! I'm not worthy! And I don't want to impose my feelings for you any longer because then I know you would only drift away from me further until I could no longer reach you!

"So, please, let me go! Set the both of us free!"

"No."

"WHY?!"

The man's eyes finally started to glisten with the unshed tears that tortured him for weeks since that moment you confessed to him.

Of course he noticed how your eyes were always red and how they have huge bags under them. Of course he noticed how you stopped listening to music - the thing you adored so, so much. Of course he noticed how you were losing your vitality and not only your weight and appetite. Of course he knew that smile of yours was only a facade to hide your sadness.

Of course he knew you wanted to move on.

But, who could blame him for acting this way?

During the course of those three months since that infamous confession, a strange kind of emotion has awoken inside V. At first, he simply ignored this, since he assumed that what you were feeling for him was merely some kind of infatuation of some sort and nothing too deep.

However, as days passed, he began seeing more and more of you in a different light. For the first time in many days, he saw the gracefulness in your movements. He saw how you selflessly cared about others around you. He saw how you unconditionally showed kindness even to the lowest of beings that others might consider trash.

And, above all, he missed your little talks about yourself. He missed the sweet voice that greets his ears each morning whenever you sing to your favorite songs on the radio. He missed how you doted on him and him alone and how you ignored Dante's childish demands for attention, despite his twin brother being the clearly better man than him.

And he missed how you said you loved him and him alone.

And he damn wanted to hear you say those words to him once more.

But, you were leaving him. For good.

You would drift far away from him like a long lost childhood memory.

Then, you would learn to love another.

And this inevitability hurt him. Tore his heart apart.

And the pain was so fucking unbearable.

"Stay. Please." He pleaded, begged, you, his voice lowered and anguished.

To this, you simply shook your head.

"I have made my decision, and you have no choice but to understand and respect it."

"No!"

"Please, V! I beg you - "

And the sadness crept even closer to you as the man took hold of the back of your head and crashed his soft lips against yours, moving in a rushed and certain way that successfully conveyed the untold emotions he had for you.

You tried to push him away, to wake up from this wishful thinking that he's doing everything he can to not let you leave him. But, the gentle strokes of his hands against your back, those whispers of his that begged you to stay, those lips which were locked against yours in heated passion and deep longing that betrayed and conveyed his true feelings to you,...

... that warmth of his and those forbidden sensations it caused your body to have that slowly breached and destroyed the high defenses you put up for your poor and hurt little heart,...

Oh, God! Why?! Why are you falling all over again?!

"I love you,..." the man whispered as his lips softly brushed againts your now tear - stained cheeks. "I love you. I love you so,... so much."

"V,..."

The man cupped your cheeks and laid his forehead against yours, his eyes melting yours, finally making you cave in with his pleas.

"I know this is too selfish of me to ask, but,... I beg you,..." he whispered, his hot breath mixing against yours. "Please, do not,... leave me. Stay."

You closed your eyes, the action making you shed even more tears.

For how you could you refuse him now?

For all the things that happened between the of you for the last months,...

For all the things that unfolded between the two of you in that cramped and hot phone booth,...

Of course, you love him.

And you definitely couldn't leave him alone now.

Nico, who arrived a few moments ago with your luggage inside her van, witnessed everything. With a smug and proud smile on her lips for her two team mates, she dialled a number and waited.

"Hello?"

"Leon, it's me."

"Hey. What time will she arrive on the airport? I want to personally escort her, myself."

"I think that won't be necessary."

"Why is that?"

"Umm, I guess she found another,... a new,... leash on life. She's not going. I'm sorry."

"Oh. That's too bad. Then, I would let the President know. I guess I'll be going to Spain alone."

"Ah, yeah. Thanks, Leon."

"No problem."

"Don't let those zombies bite. And get the girl out."

"Will do."

***

🖤🖤🖤

***

[chloca-cola]

(Un)Corruptible Chapter 8 [end]

TW: none

@minteyeddemon

Word count: 1,161 ish

~~~~~~~

    Vergil actually held a visage of apology when Meande looked back into his eyes, releasing his hold on the Yamato, stepping back and she sighed, looking back down at the object jutting from her gut. She placed her hands on her hips, before grabbing the handle of the Yamato with her right hand, slowly pulling it from her body. 

    “You, uh, left this in me, and this was my favorite shirt...” She teased him, flicking her wrist, cleaning her own blood off the blade, and Dante chuckled.

    “Welcome to the Got Stabbed by Vergil Club, Squirt.” She smiled at her fiance, as she stepped towards Vergil taking the scabbard from him, properly resheathing the Yamato herself, which wasn’t an easy task, considering the katana was nearly as long as she was tall.

    “I apologize, Meande.” Vergil genuinely regretted hurting her and she laughed, handing his katana back to him, clapping him on the arm.

    “You did what you had too, it’s no biggie, Dimples.” Walking passed him to hug Dante and her mother.

    “What happened?” Cassiel asked, and Meande shrugged.

    “It’s like when you slapped me, all my abilities came together.” She crudely explained, frustrated she couldn’t do better. “That doesn’t make sense…”

    “You were supposed to kill them!” Maltheal roared, appearing before them, and Meande scoffed, sarcastically bowing to him.

    “Forgive me but I'm disinclined to acquiesce your request.” He roared again, black flames fully engulfing him now. “Watch me kick your ass!” Meande devil triggered again, lunging towards the much bigger demon, causing Dante to sigh.

    “She's always running head first into trouble...should we help her?” He asked Vergil, who still seemed to be lost in contrition. Cassiel was already in her demon form, flying towards Maltheal helping her daughter, and Vergil nodded curtly, and they joined in the fight as well.

    Between two psionic demons and the Sparda twins, they all four slowly chipped away at Maltheal, lightning shooting from Meande as she used her newfound infinite psychic abilities for physical combat. They all four worked as a cohesive unit, as if they’ve always fought together. Covering blind spots, Meande and Vergil both quickly striking Maltheal as Dante provided the more powerful blows, and Cassiel used her abilities in a more defensive way, helping block attacks that others couldn’t see coming.

    Maltheal began to grow frustrated with the fight, which would prove to be his downfall as his attacks became sloppier and easier to read.

    “Nero is gonna be mad he missed out on this one!” Meande bantered as she landed a shock filled right hook to Maltheal’s jaw. “He’d really enjoy kicking your ass!”

    “Shut up, you weak minded fool!” Maltheal howled out in pain, back handing at Meande, but she phased out of the attack, finally having the control to just reappear back in spot, and she landed a hard kick to his sternum.

    “I’m weak minded, d’you guys hear that!” She informed, and Dante laughed, coming up behind Maltheal, thrusting his devil sword straight through him. Meande leaped backwards as Maltheal fell to his knees before her, Dante planted his foot against Maltheal’s back, pushing him forward to pull his sword from his body. Maltheal turned and fell onto his back. The four came to stand over the fallen demon as he growled in defeat.

“Say hi to Mundus for us, would ya?” Dante quipped before Vergil delivered the final blow, thrusting the Yamato through Maltheal’s head.

~~

    Back at Devil May Cry, Meande flopped onto the couch, a loud oomph erupting from her.

    “Damn...this has been some crazy two fuckin’ days.” She complained loudly and Dante laughed, flopping down beside her in the same manner, draping his arm over her shoulders, and she curled up against him.

    “Tell me about it, Squirt.” He agreed as Cassiel milled around the room just glad every one is ok, and Vergil kept staring at Meande, causing her to finally sigh and look to him.

    “Are you gonna be in this self loathing state forever now?” Vergil cast his eyes downward and she exchanged a look with Dante. “Should I stab you to make things even?” She asked in jest, chuckling softly, but she stopped when he locked eyes with her again. “Hell, I was only kidding Vergil, I’m not gonna stab you.” She stood, walking over to him, smiling. “Look at it this way, you feel bad about it. That means you care about me.” A slight blush graced his cheeks and he looked away from her.

    “It’s a good thing, Vergil.” Cassiel pointed out, giving him a genuine smile, and Meande nodded, punching his chest playfully.

    “It’s progress, work with it, huh?” He grunted, turning and walking away.

    “You’re insufferable.” He deadpanned, and she laughed.

    “Same to ya, Dimples!” Meande called, pointing finger guns at him and she turned to her mother, smiling. “Now, you are more than welcome to stay here. I can move into Dante’s room, and you can have mine.” Cassiel smiled as if it's more than what she was going to ask for.

    “You don’t mind?” She asked, looking to Dante as well, and he shrugged.

    “Not at all, since we are gonna be future in-laws and all.” 

    “Well, if you don’t care, I would love to stay here and make up for the time we lost.” Meande and Cassiel embraced, as Dante stood from the couch.

    “Not to break this up or anything, I’ve got lost time to make up with her too. Between my brother whisking her to the roof and you coming back around, I feel like I have to fight for her attention.” Dante pointed out, almost in a pouting tone, as he lifted Meande up and over his shoulder, and she waved at her mother as he took her up the stairs.

    “Make good choices.” She teased before sighing, looking around her new home, happy she finally gets to be in Meande’s life again.

--

    “Hey, why didn’t any of you decide to tell us these two idiots were back?” Lady asked, as she and Trish stopped by after their jobs, and Meande smiled at them.

    “Well...we’ve been busy.” Cassiel elbowed Meande as she looked at Trish, and Meande giggled.

    “Mom, this is Trish, not Eva.” Trish blinked, sharing a look with Lady. “And this is Lady.”

    “Mom? As in your dead mother?” Trish inquired, and the four sighed, getting ready to catch them up on what happened these past two days. 

             The doors burst open, Nero and Nico coming inside, bickering amongst themselves, carrying several boxes of pizza. Nero sat the pizzas down before he and Meande fist bumped each other like the two dorks they are, and they all dug into the pizza.

               Meande sat back, smiling as she listened to Dante regale the story, and make several exaggerations, and Vergil corrected him along the way, happy that finally, maybe her life could go back to being simple, at least half way anyway, surrounded by the ones she cares about.

[icy-warden]

Miasma

AO3 - Prompt Fog for Zevraholics Anonymous October Challenge 2019

"Why do you look at Duncan like that?" Vergil glances at the man and yes, it's him who's addressed, because the ser knight is staring at him with poorly hidden accusation.

"Do you always start conversation this way?"

"He does," Daveth quips, looking positively estatic.

"Charming," he mutters and keeps walking, looking down to avoid stepping in another hidden puddle. The mist seems to thicken, muffling the sounds and increasing the damp feeling.

Alistair grunts something about keeping quiet. The fog creeped slowly, but surely and suddenly Vergil has a thought. Shouldn't the fog carry the sounds not mute them? But he keeps silent. What does he know about this place beside that it's wet, smelly and cold, and he hates all the bugs trying to bite him, the seldom noises of the wilds keeping him unusually on the edge and twitchy.

"Well?" Ser knight snaps at him, with all the authority of a peasant who thinks himself a noble.

"Well what." Vergil doesn't have the patience for idiots and this one tests it brilliantly. He didn't have the time to rest at all after he finally arrived to Ostagar, he's short on his sleep and wants to bathe properly in near future and why is this man with sword up his ass even talking to him.

“I saw you leer-”

"Oh, so you're watching me now? I wonder why. No," he interrupts, as he sees Jory opening his mouth, "don't tell me." If he'd hear something about turning into abomination or some other shit, he'll zap the man, companion or not. He'll make it look like an accident.

An unexpected thought strikes him, as he glares at the man and sees him quickly avoid his eye, jaw set in stubborn line. He recalls how the ser knight was clearly puzzled by Vergil being Duncan's recruit. Even more so when he had a better look at his ears, because he was as tall as most humans. And how he was surprised they "Let women into Grey Wardens". It must be the long braided hair that misled him. He knows this type. Bets Jory regretted Vergil lacks the bosom. It'd be justified then, the confused looks, averted staring.

"You're too pretty for your own good."

Vergil's used to being stared at, but the unwanted attention never stopped feeling like he bathed in something foul. He's better with ignoring it by now, even when it feels like the beginnings of a toothache, on the edge of awarness.

"I could watch you harder, if you'd like," Daveth jests and gets Vergil's attention from his musings. He arches an eyebrow, purposely looking at the archer from head to feet. "I don't think you could handle me like you're convinced you would. For Duncan though, I could make an exception and take it." He smirks as Daveth laughs.

"You-", Jory's sputtering in embarrassed outrage, "You can't say things like that!" Alistair just clears his throat, the tips of his ears red.

"I won't ask why not, because I might already have an idea about the way you think, ser knight," he smoothly shifts his tone to mockingly polite one, "But you don't have to worry, you're safe from me seducing you."

Jory face takes on another shade of red. "And taking an advantage of our leader is better?" Ser knight's fuming.

He'll zap the man, he swears it. Vergil has enough of this conversation, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Daveth's shit eating grin. Alistair visibly tries his hardest to ignore them and hisses at them through clenched teeth, "Could you all be quiet for a moment, I think there's-"

"Just proves my point. All mages are the same, throwing themeselves without honour at everyone around and elven ones are even worse, the things elves do around the camp are-" Jory shuts his mouth when the temperature visibly drops and he sees his breath curl in the air.

Vergil's calm, deceptively so and a small smile plays on his lips, almost sad but with a hint of malice. His face seems neutral, too neutral, because his eyes look far from indifferent.

"Go on, I'd like to hear what elven servants do around the camp," He urges gently, a hint of steel in otherwise soft tone.

Even Daveth glances at him with wariness and shuffles away a bit further.

Jory almost chokes on his spit when he struggles with an answer, skin redding even more, hands twitching at his sides, like he isn't sure he should unsheathe his longsword and there's a moment of silence and a faint growl and Alistair's cry of 'darkspawns' and someone mutters 'thank the maker'.

They are busy with the fight. The fog visibly thickens, and by now he's sure it's artificial. Do drakspawns have their own mages? Vergil puts his frustration into his magic and it helps a little. One stray spell might hit Jory and Vergil relishes for a bit in his startled yelp.

Jory keeps away from him for the rest of the time.

[puttingfingerstokeys]

[untitled]

Nanowrimo day 17 Featuring Dante from the Devil May Cry(tm) series, and Vergil Dark fantasy, horror, demon...shit? Devil May Cry, violence, hell stuff, implied nonconsensual stuff Unfinished and unedited

“Ya think we did the right thing, Verg’? Leavin’ the kid behind like that, I mean…” Dante wasn’t the kind of man who doubted himself often. His decisions were, in general, ironclad. At the very least, he was an individual of particularly steely character and was more than content to live with his mistakes. He was even content to live with others’ mistakes. 

“Yes,” came the short, sharp response. To Vergil, there was no other option. Hell was not a place for a young man with a family. He did not know the girl, but he understood that Nero was very fond of her. Leaving Kyrie behind would have devastated her. Humans are fragile creatures, he mused coldly, forgetting conveniently, at least for the moment, the he was half human himself. It was easy to forget that here in this dark place of discordant energy.

It was a plane of lightless eternity, stretching out in all directions. Walking one way often yielded other terrain, but nothing remotely resembling something alive. Pools of blood stood stagnant where a puddle might have been in the human world. Blood rained from the sky above, which looked at times like the vaulted ceiling of a massive cave and other times resembled a vast expanse of void. 

As lonely as it was, they were always being watched. Once the Qliphoth had been destroyed, the demonic attacks had all but subsided and the brothers found themselves hunting the beasts for sport. They ran at the very sound of the twins’ voices. It was becoming monotonous. 

“Just ‘yes’? No monologue?” 

“Did you want one?” Vergil’s patience was perpetually wearing thin. Dante knew this damn well and prodded every chance he got. He loved getting a rise out of Vergil, seeing the color appear on sharp cheekbones and the set of his handsome jaw. It meant the guy was alive and that he could feel. That he had always been able to did not escape Dante; it was not for himself that he did this. Vergil needed to know and remember that he, too, was a half-breed, more than capable of feeling loss and love and everything that came with being a living, breathing being. 

Despite what he had done, Dante had long since forgiven him, regardless of whether or not the man had asked. Dante knew he never would and so was not waiting for it. He had simply resolved in his mind to let it all go, to toss it aside like so much chaff that simply did not matter in the grand grinding wheel of their lives. He was just glad to be with Vergil. 

“Okay fine,” Dante conceded, shrugging and lifting his arms to arch his back and stretch as they walked the lonely, empty plains of the demon world. 

The ease of his concession had Vergil on edge almost instantly. Dante never gave up like that. There had to be something more to it. He was always playing games. Each movement was part of an elaborate dance step that only Dante himself seemed to know and he was not sharing. Vergil never would have admitted to anyone but himself (and even that admission was skeletal) that his brother had always enraptured and fascinated him. 

“You’re giving up…?” Vergil was poking the hornet’s nest now, but his own incessant curiosity would not allow him to leave well enough alone. They were alike in this, yet another fact he would never admit to anyone, and it chafed him something fierce. That he could not control it only served to further irk Vergil. 

“Yup,” responded Dante, popping the final letter for extra emphasis. “You clearly don’t wanna elaborate, so who am I to prod?” 

You always prod! Vergil’s mind screamed. Through sheer force of his not inconsiderably willpower, Vergil managed not to say a word and grunted instead, nodding minutely as if utterly uninterested in Dante’s lack of interest. This, too, was part of the game. How long could each brother hold out? Who would emerge victorious? Everything was a contest between the two of them. Everything.

Overhead, the “sky” or whatever it was, rumbled with a hollow, metallic sort of intonation. The blood rain was incoming. Vergil disliked the feeling of it on his skin and clothes and immediately scanned the area with a practiced eye for some clue to the direction of a cave or even a feeble outcropping underneath which they could take shelter. A tug on his elbow alerted him that Dante had caught sight of such a place and indeed, when Vergil turned his attention, Dante was already jogging that way.

The rumble resounded again, sounding more like a growl than any kind of storm. Vergil ducked into the cave opening just as the first red, stinking droplets began to fall. He grimaced and crouched near the entrance, watching it fall across the seemingly uninhabited landscape. This was nothing like he remembered it, but then, maybe it was because he was with Dante. The demon world had a tendency to shift, depending on the mental state (and physical state) of its occupants. Perhaps he was seeing this version because he was not actually dead. The theories were endless, but right now, he had neither the desire nor the equipment to test them. Instead of bothering with it, therefore, Vergil settled back, propping Yamato on his shoulder and turning his attention to Dante, who was similarly enraptured with the strange scenery.

The cave itself was supremely dark, though not terribly deep. Given the demons’ fear of them, it was unlikely to be occupied. That was all the better for anything that might have wanted to live here, because Dante and Vergil would have made quick work of it. 

“Last time I was here, it was a whole lot hotter,” Dante said, as if speaking only to himself. Vergil’s brow rose. 

“You were here?” 

“Well, if here is the demon world or whatever… and if it’s the same one every time, though I’m really kinda startin’ to doubt that right about now…. Then yeah, I was. It was probably twenty years ago, though.”

Vergil wondered how someone like Dante ended up here. They had made war upon each other in a nexus-like half-plane, essentially within the hellgate bridge created by the Temen-ni-Gru around thirty years prior. Between then and now, Vergil had spent all of his time here, save the last month or so. He, therefore, should have been the authority on the demon world and its denizens and manifestations. He was not. 

“I barely remember it, honestly,” Dante added after a moment, in a tone that suggested not only did he remember it vividly, but it plagued him whenever he closed his eyes, haunted his nightmares, and infected his waking world when he wasn’t otherwise occupied. Vergil did not press. He was the last person to judge based on that. 

“You followed something in, I’ll assume,” Vergil supplied. This coaxing manner was rather in the same vein as Dante’s prodding. It had a similar result, in general, anyway. When he saw Dante nod, he knew he had struck some kind of chord. “A demon, or…”

“I don’t know what it was, Vergil,” the response was sharp, harder than Dante had intended and he withdrew a moment with a mumbled few words that sounded like “it doesn’t matter”. Vergil laughed through his nose, the sound muted by the rain outside. Nothing Dante had experienced in this horrid place could have possibly held a candle to the torments Vergil had suffered. That was a matter of time spent here, rather than opinion. But Vergil was not about to play pain olympics with something that clearly distressed his brother. Any other time, he might have mocked and jeered, in his way, but right now, that felt… wrong.

“You’ve gone willingly into the demon world twice,” Vergil pointed out. The Temen-ni-Gru had not been fully submerged, as it were, and whatever Dante had found during his battle with Mundus had been similarly positioned, a sort of Hell Lite. Mundus had been trying to push through, in all fairness, so Dante had not been forced to immerse himself. That was fortunate, because the area where the demon king Mundus held court was far worse than wherever the Qliphoth’s branches had been positioned. This place was a paradise, all things considered. 

“So have you,” Dante pointed out, his tone softening from the defensive, choked timbre it had taken on when Vergil tried coaxing a story or two out of him. That he was so reticent to share said all that was needed on the subject of how much it had affected him. Dante’s fearless, indomitable spirit had shone through just about everything life had thrown at him. Clearly this was just a step farther than he was able to push himself. Everyone has their limits, Vergil reasoned, I guess he does, too.

It was a strange thought, considering his insufferable twin was… well, insufferable, incorrigible, and constantly ready, willing, and able to dog Vergil’s every movement. He guessed that, in a way, he had invited this attention upon himself, given his propensity for causing havoc, not least of which had been his mad grab for power, planting the Qliphoth and siccing it on a city full of strangers. He did not think of them as innocents, however; even now, they were merely faceless nobodies. Dante would not change his mind on that, either.

Point of fact, it had been finding out he had a son which had called a halt upon his machinations. Vergil had suspected nothing. It had been V, whose humanity had shown him the life that Dante had built and the impact he was having on the world, carrying on Sparda’s legacy of protection for the humans, who had planted that seed of doubt and hesitance in his heart. Dante had driven the final nail into that particular coffin by telling Vergil who Nero really was. 

“You really get around,” Dante jested, chuckling and watching the blood rain fall outside. It was forming puddles already, sticky, coagulated things which stunk something fierce. He thought he would become accustomed to the smell eventually, but he never did. Blood stank, plain and simple.

“Did I?” Vergil’s tone warned Dante not to push, that he knew what the man was doing. Dante figured it was tit for tat and if Vergil was going to tease at his time in the demon world, it was only fair he should do the same of Vergil’s most sensitive subject. Of course, it was really only a guess which led Dante to conclude that this was such a sore spot, but if he knew Vergil at all (and he absolutely did) he was about to hit the proverbial nail on the head… repeatedly.

“Sure,” Dante reasoned casually. “I mean sometime between playing Gilver and stuffing a giant tower in the middle of my city, right?”

He was referring, of course, to Vergil’s time on Fortuna which had somehow produced Nero. Dante was curious about this, as he suspected, was Nero. The kid, however, had not had time to ask his father about it and Dante suspected that, rough as Nero was, he was too tactful and maybe a little too stubborn to simply bring it up.

“I acquired knowledge of the occult and the book which Arkham carried that detailed the formulae and necessary items to raise Temen-ni-Gru,” said Vergil, his voice taking on a clinical coldness. He was shutting down, Dante could sense that much. He reached out and patted his brother’s thigh from his position across the small cave. 

“Hey, dude, relax… Like I said, we were all young, once, right?” This, he meant with sincerity, his way of raising a white flag. Curiosity was pushing at him, but his adoration for Vergil was winning out. Dante was simply glad to have the man back after all these years. When it did come to blows, he wanted it to be for a better reason. 

Vergil’s gaze was sharp for a moment before he closed his eyes and turned his head to face the cave entrance. Hollow thunder resounded overhead and the world flashed with whatever passed for lightning in the realm of demons. Only when his sight was completely diverted did he open his eyes, a faraway look in them Dante could not see, but which might have broken his heart. 

“I don’t remember it.”

“You don’t… what?” Suddenly, the hand on Vergil’s thigh was tight. Dante’s mind had immediately leapt to the worst set of circumstances. He released his grasp only when Vergil’s gaze returned to him and he finally saw that look of melancholy. Dante drew back and crossed his arms, as if to protect himself. 

“Did I stutter?”

“No, but… Listen I…” There was a prime opportunity for a reference to Vergil’s lack of alcohol tolerance, but Dante wasn’t even going to attempt that. It felt wrong. One accidental drunk night did not sound like Vergil.

“There are gaps,” he said, “in my mind… things that weren’t convenient for me to know. Mundus removed them.” The delivery was simple, and all the worse for that simplicity. Vergil did not dress anything up, did not elaborate. He merely stated fact. “Our childhood has been… edited. I assume whatever happened on Fortuna was, as well, because there was no… woman.”