#after coming back to the human world he was beginning to accept that vergil was really gone

[thealatvs]

no more mirrors (the beginning of dante’s nightmares)

#dante devil may cry #devil may cry #dmc #dmc dante #dmc vergil #vergil devil may cry #dantes hell run in dmc2 involved a lot of demon killing #but also trying to find vergil #after coming back to the human world he was beginning to accept that vergil was really gone #thats why hes back to being wahoo pizza man in dmc4! #growing older also caused dantes reflection to look less like the vergil he remembered #i have a lot of incoherent thoughts about dante #and the fanfics dont help but i love this stupid overpowered cowboy

[animelovelover123]

DMC: Family Pet AU – Being Walked In On

Link to Master List

Set-Up

Being at the service of 11 people who could call for you and seek you out as they please, it’s inevitable that there would be interruptions in private moments. Here is how they would react to being walked in on.

Dante

Woops. Well, this wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last. This kind of predicament is commonplace thanks to his inclination to take you in the main room of his shop because then you leave your scent all over where he spends most of his time. That way he can enjoy you while you’re gone, entice some of his other lovers if they visit (Nero is particularly weak to this after a bout of embarrassment), and get a good chuckle when some people walk in and crinkle up their noise as they are assaulted with the lingering smell of sex. Vergil’s and Lady’s looks of shock and disgust while trying to restrain blushes are to die for. Literally, Dante usually gets stabbed or shot for it but it’s so worth it.

Anyway, when one of his family walks in while you are bouncing on his lap, he barely hesitates when looking at them with a mischievous grin. Hooking his arms behind your knees, he lifts your legs up and apart so the third party can clearly see where Dante disappears into you.

“Always room for one more.”

Vergil

Vergil is not the type to feel embarrassment or shame often. And especially not in matters like this for he has every right to please you and be pleased, there is no need for false modesty. Even when he does start to harbour such things, usually when he has failed spectacularly or he has shown his weaker side, it usually surfaces as anger. Either way, he has zero patience for being interrupted for anything less than a true emergency. He tries to ward others off by wafting out his demonic energy as a warning, but if a family member intrudes anyway, he won't hold back his aggression.

Vergil can sense someone approaching. He tries to ward them off with his demonic energy but here they come anyway. And apparently, they were thoroughly thoughtless, in both senses of the word, because they started to open the door without warning. Before they could even slip a hand in Vergil sends out a Summon Sword, piercing both the door and the door frame, jamming them together, and making clear the world of pain they are in for if they try to intrude any further. If he still has some clarity of mind, he will shout in a tone bordering on a snarl, “Leave this instant or not even Sparda himself can save you from my wrath.” And if his humanity was already lost to primal pleasure then he would only let out a single deep, loud, venomous growl.

Nero

It depends on how long you and he have been part of the family. If he is new to sharing both you and himself with others outside of his relationship with Kyrie, then he will get bashful. He’ll let out a cute little noise, which he will deny later, and fumble horribly as he tries to preserve your and his modesty. He will also cuss, either under his breath if the person seems remorseful for interrupting or pointedly if the person is unsympathetic or jokey. His shyness rarely comes out as physical violence though as, in the beginning, he doesn’t want to risk lashing out when you’re so close. And later he has long since accepted the sharing situation.

When his uncertainty about the whole ‘polyamorous family’ situation he had been thrust into finally ebbs away, he is able to not panic and think things through when times with you are interrupted. If it’s someone he doesn’t want in the moment he will pointedly tell them to “fuck off”. If it’s someone submissive or a person he respects he’ll be more polite in telling them he’s “in the middle of something”. But, if it’s someone dominant and he’s in a certain kind of mood, well…

Nero is all raspy breaths and twitching limbs as he falls back onto the headboard, his muscles losing all strength in his post-orgasm. He watches with half-lidded eyes as you lift your head from his chest, breathes long and slow as you too come down from the high, to meet the approaching hand of the person that had walked in just moments before. Nero watches as you receive praise, get soothing pets, and a kiss for a job well done.

“Hey,” Nero calls, grabbing onto the person’s clothes to tug at them for attention. His face regains its redness, his eyes are pleading, and his lips almost start to pout to match the slight whine in his voice. “me too. I did good too, right?”

V

Being interrupted is quite bothersome to V. People seeing his naked form is of little consequence to him. Having been created with a fully matured mind, naked as any newborn would be, he did not experience that suffocating title wave of shame brought about by puberty and the pressure to hide one's developing body. He also spent the first month of his existence as a homeless wanderer stealing and scavenging while only having one outfit to his name, openly washing himself and his clothes in any somewhat clean water he could find in the ruins of Red Grave City. In short, V did not find naked bodies inherently sexual. If anything, he found them beautiful, like an art piece that told the story of one's life. It was the feelings of the people in said bodies that decided if the mood was sexual or not.

No, the problem he had with being walked in on was how it swiftly snuffed out the atmosphere he had so carefully constructed. Getting to this point with V was almost always a lengthy process, tens of minutes or even hours of poetic wordplay, tantalizing looks, and fleeting touches. It was such a delicate dance that he would even station his familiars outside of the room to ward off any who would dare to steal his dance partner before the crescendo.

Unfortunately, there would still be times that someone slips through the veil and tares it down, bringing with them a rush of cold air that dissolves the heat in the room. And just like if someone were to drag a man out of deep slumber in which he was cradled in the most blissful of dreams via a splash of ice water, V is thoroughly put off and perturbed for quite a while. His smooth voice helping to disguise the severity and meaning of the venomous thorn-like words shot bitterly to dig into the intruder.

Credo

Always the prim and proper general, Credo held true to the traditional rules of lovemaking that he had grown up with. There was a time and a place for such intimacies, something he would remind others of if they were caught being untoward at inappropriate times. And when such an opportunity comes about it should be done with grace and respect as giving one’s body over to another is the utmost sign of trust and affection.

So when someone suddenly teleports into the room he reacts quickly. He devil triggers his arms and uses his shield and wing to cover both your bodies as his elbows fall to the mattress on either side of your shoulders. His hips stop and he leans forward to further hide your face in his chest. Though having an order on the tip of his slightly swollen lips, Credo holds his tongue when the intruder speaks because, more than a lover, he is a soldier. When the commanding and formidable voice of his superior instructs him to continue, “for an honourable knight never leaves a job half finished”, Credo’s body tenses with conflicting values. He raises his chest from your face so he can look down at you, mouth closed in a concentrated line, his eyes silently ask for your feelings on the predicament.

If you show any sign of discomfort, he will stand his ground despite any possible punishment he may, but most likely won’t, receive for defying orders. “My apologies, but an honourable man does not force his love to do what makes them unhappy.” If you consent though, flashing him a smile and giving a curt nod, he will return to his full human form and lift back up from his elbows to the palms of his hands. Suppressing the slight quiver trying to sneak through his voice but not the heat spreading across his face and even to the tips of his ears, Credo responds. “Yes sir.”

Lady

With her hatred for demons and drive to avenge her mother and her own lost childhood engulfing her teen years, Lady ended up being a late bloomer. So, despite being a full-fledged adult, she approaches sex like a skittish but overzealous teenager. One with a body as sensitive as her temper and as easy to fire on all cylinders as her happy trigger finger.

Just as in battle, Lady is fluid and precise with every movement, able to multitask as she takes from her opponent what she wants while still being in complete control despite laying under you. And you are most definitely losing as your tongue keeps stopping to take in shaky moans and whimpers under her constant assault. Lady isn’t mad though, if anything it strokes her ego as she has to curl a leg around your head to pull you back down onto her to encourage you to continue, making you whine even more.

And just like in battle, Lady’s reaction time is impeccable as the moment she catches the creaking of the floorboard just outside of her room she jumps into action. Her thighs clamp around your head, one of her arms wraps around your waist, and she grabs the pistol she keeps under her pillow. In one smooth movement, Lady flips you both over, you now on your back and her sitting upright above your head. Before the door opens even halfway, she aims and fires at the person she has already identified, shooting through the opening and past the person if they are human or, if they are any amount of demon, snipes them upside the head. And as she lets out a proud huff as the intruder tumbles backward, she finally leaves herself open enough for you to take charge. For once Lady lets out a stuttering whimper/moan as you suddenly pull her down to sit on your face.

Trish

Trish has always been confident in her body and her sexuality; just look at how she dresses! She is also a demon who has had to bear witness to Mundus playing with his harem of Pets while she served under him. So, the possibility of someone walking in on her doesn’t really bother her. The only times she shows a modicum of modesty is if her current partner becomes uncomfortable, then she will protest for their benefit. That’s not to say she is an exhibitionist or nudist or anything of the sort. She just sees no point in acting coy about seeing people naked or knowing they have sex. This is especially true for her regarding the family. Everyone was sleeping around together, why try to pretend you aren’t?

So, when someone walks into the room, Trish turns to them with her usual sultry smile and doesn’t even slow her fingers as they drag in and out of you. Although she will give one plump cheek, which was held up and towards her, a comforting tap if you whine in embarrassment while pressing your face further into the bed below you.

She will hear the person out if they have an important message, but what she finds more fun is when the person gets all hot and bothered by the display before them.

“Would you like to play too kitten?” Trish asks as she beckons them over with just one finger. “Come on over here. Mommy has two hands.”

Nico

With Nico having spent days, weeks, and even months at a time living out of her van, she is already used to blocking out the sounds of other people or having to shoo them off while in the middle of private business.  She’ll tell you what, “There ain’t nothin’ worse than being seconds away from finishin’ polishin’ your pearl when the copers come bangin’ on your door threatenin’ to toe your wheels if you don’t shove out asap.” And interruptions became even more prevalent as she started letting more and more people hang out in her van. This didn’t make it any less aggravating though when she was interrupted.

“Oh baby.” Nico groaned, hand reaching behind her to grab your hair and hips rolling forward into your hand currently down her shorts to further add pressure to your twirling fingers. With her leaning back against your front and you pressed up against the jukebox, Nico quickly caught the door to the van being opened directly in front of you both. Just as metal-covered fingers slid through, Nico lifted a foot and slammed her boot into the door.

“Jesus Crist!” Nero shouted, hand retracting out of the doorway. “You trying to break my fingers?” He looked over his hand which was thankfully unharmed but the devil breaker gauntlet was now fingerless.

“Buzz off man.” Nico shouted back.

“I just wanna buy-“

“Stores closed, I’m busy.”

“Look, it will only take a minute.”

“Take a goddamn hint dude.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’re tryin’ to have a good time in here.”

“We…” Nero trails off in thought then remembers seeing you enter the van just as he was leaving. “Really? Right now?”

“Hell ya right now.” Nico turns to look over her shoulder as she grinds her ass back into you.

“We’re in the middle of a mission Nico!”

Kyrie

No matter how much time she has had to adjust to the more open affection within her new demonic family, Kyrie will always be a shy, chaste, saint of a woman. She lets out a giggle whenever someone brushes against her in an affectionate way, blushes when someone gives her a quick peck, and tries to hide her face if someone wants to capture her lips in public. Heaven forbid someone walks in on her doing something so intimate.

With her heart already hammering in her chest and her face so hot anyone would think she had a severe fever; it was only by screwing her eyes shut and clinging to the pillow she hugged to her chest that kept her stable enough to keep her trembling legs open as your head drifts down between them. Being so wound up as is, when she hears the click of the bedroom door opening, she lets out a panicked shriek. She buries her face in the pillow she is clinging to, turns her back to the door, and snaps her legs close. Even as the person on the other side of the door shouts apologies while closing the door and retreating, Kyrie doesn’t move an inch from her shaking fetal position. After taking the time to calm her and assure her that the person didn’t see anything, she pulls her face away from her pillow to look at you, an apology on her lips and tears still in her eyes.

Sparda

Ever the family man and responsible leader, even when in the throes of passion Sparda would stop to address any family member that interrupted the moment. On rare occasions, usually if he or you are on the brink of climax, he will growl at the intruder to wait. But he will quickly finish and find them after to discuss whatever they came to see him for. Still, his arousal would take a pretty bad hit if interrupted and he may need some extra attention to get back to where you both left off. He doesn’t like making you work extra though, especially if you also lose some of your arousal in the process. This is often mitigated however by him being an oh so generous family man.

“Is there anything else?” Sparda asked, having successfully talked through his family member’s problem. He spoke with gentle patience despite his natural frustration at being interrupted and noticing how he had softened considerably at this point. You, however, were still giving off an aroused aura. And not just for him, but for his kin too who also seemed to have noticed your curious looks. And so, being the generous father who wants all his kin to feel loved and well-practiced, and knowing that you two can entertain each other while he returns to his previous fervour, he motions them towards you. “If you have time to spare, would you like to join us?”

Eva

As a mother of twins who constantly fought and looked to their parents for backup in arguments, she was far too used to being barged in on. She had mastered the technique of covering herself and her partner up in the blink of an eye and even on the brink of an orgasm she could put on an unassuming voice and caring smile as she asked what was wrong.

So when you and she are entangled in an embrace, both topless as you drag your tongue along the lingering stretch marks from her time breastfeeding, and someone enters the bedroom unannounced Eva has the bed’s blanket wrapped around you both before you even lift your head. “Do you need something?” She asks with all the sweetness of a saint while you paw at her chest in disappointment. One of her hands soothingly travels up and down your back as you pout up at her when her other hand gently pushes you back.

#devil may cry x reader #devil may cry imagine #v x reader #vergil x reader #dante x reader #nero x reader #sparda x reader #credo x reader #eva x reader #lady x reader #trish x reader #kyrie x reader #nico x reader #sparda x eva #nero x kyrie #v (dmc) x reader

[floandroid]

The Immediate Forgiveness In Eurydice

(Vergil x F!Reader)

CW : Angst

This has been sitting in my drafts so long so I'll just upload it here :) Have fun reading folks! I'm still busy with school so requests will definitely be slow

When he comes back to you

He looked like a lost child. He stood outside your door, knuckles rasping against the hardwood, half expecting you to accept him warmly as you did before or act cold, as he treated you when he left.

In the middle of a heated argument, he walked out on you. On your relationship, without so much of an explanation. Suppose, he thinks, that you deserve closure. An explanation on why did what he had to do.

But what does he say? That his pursuit of better power was more important than you?

He can’t. His pride won’t allow it. There was...just too much to unpack.

How he even allowed himself to go back to your apartment was a mystery. His humanity was restored and memories of you flooded him. He remembers your tender touches to his face, the way you’d trace his lips after kissing. The way you’d run your fingers into his hair, especially when his hair was down.

Your warmth, your scent- He feels as if he was ripped off basic human needs all these years.

And before he could land one more knock on the door, he hears the sound of the door handle unlocking. The half devil froze. His hand stuck to his side while the other hand gripped the handle of the Yamato. His steel grey eyes were glued to the wooden floor.

He remembers when he’d take you on your floor, your mewls were music to his ears as he took whatever he wanted from your body

You cough. But he doesn’t look up.

Fuck. What does he say?

It was sheer silence.

“You…” he begins but he can’t even look at you. Instead, he keeps his head down as if he was a child that was just scolded for running away “I…”

How hard is it? To ask forgiveness from you? You don’t need any grandeur expression of regret, just simply say-

“I was about to eat dinner” Your soft voice was a soothing song to him. It was barely above a whisper and he dared not to gaze up at the expression on your face out of fear that you’d have that look of disappointment. Or worse, a spiteful look. The one where you had no ounce of love for him.

Please I

“Would you like some dinner too?”

You move from your spot by the door to let him in. He clenches his jaw. Although not hungry, he accepts nonetheless. As fast as a bullet from Nero’s gun goes, he is hit by a wave of nostalgia. The way your apartment smelled was still the same, it was enough for him to break down and cry. He bites his inner cheek and moves to your small dining area.

He still knows where it was. The little knick knacks on your table were still on display. Two cats, one white one nuzzling into grey one. He balls his fists. It was a gift from him.

This reminded me of us, he recalls.

He doesn’t flinch when you place a plate full of pasta in front of him, his eyes glued onto the white ceramic dinnerware. He feels like a goddamn robot when he picks up the fork and twirls the noodles.

Usually dinner was a time for the two to catch up. He wasn’t the chatty kind, you didn’t mind, really. But when you talked about the little things you saw, what you did, what you ate and what caught your eye at the store- god please keep talking to him. The smile on your face was the most precious thing in the world and it was just for him.

He’d destroy a village for you, he’d level a skyscraper for you, he’d...Then he remembers how  much you despised destruction. You’d remind him, over and over again, that between the two of you, what you only wished for him was that you’d be a better person. If not for him, for you.

Well...did he?

Dinner was quiet and there was an air of awkwardness. It hurts pretending that the two of you didn’t have something so beautiful. Only an idiot like him would throw it all away.

After dinner, you were left alone to clean the plates. Vergil, on the other hand, allowed himself to have a quick bath. The thought of asking for forgiveness from you still lingered in his brain. Under the hot water, he could vaguely recall the sound of your sobbing when he walked out. He hated himself for it.

He spent the next few weeks going on a demon killing spree. He never did dare come back home for a year after that.

His shower was cut abrupt when he noticed his fingers pruning. He goes out and wraps a towel around his waist. During these hours in the night, you’d be up watching some trashy T.V show. Almost as if it was muscle memory, he makes a beeline to your living room.

His brain shouts at him. Look at her! Look at her and ask for forgiveness! He can’t…

He doesn’t realize he collapsed in front of you. His knees digging into your persian rug, damp hair sticking to your pajamas. His cheek is pressed to your thighs, and his strong arms wrapped around your legs. With his eyes closed, he takes a heavy breath, inhaling your scent. You were what he deemed was comfort.

You were alive. You were there with him and you weren’t pushing him away.

“Vergil”

Your hands ran through his still wet hair, combing and playing with it until it rests just at the very top of his head. Leaning down, your hands made its way to his face, cupping him and having him face you

And oh god, his pupils dilated. You were as gorgeous as the day he left you.

“I forgive you”

And your smile, he feels his worries fade but the guilt still stays. His mouth hangs open and he stops a sob coming out of his throat.

“I love you”

He melts. Body sagging, losing that tension that held him up. With a shaky breath, he slides out of your hold, his body moving down a bit more. His face now was facing your knees. On your clothed knees he gives each one of them a kiss.

Still, he deems himself unworthy to touch your lips with his.

#devil may cry #dmc x reader #vergil sparda x reader #vergil dmc #vergil x reader #my shit

[thenightgazer]

Spark of Stardust

Chapter 2 : Under The Fair Moonlight After months of friendship, tonight is the first time for Vergil to visit Lyra's house for a tea... and some unexpected confessions.

Warning : parental abuse, drug abuse, PTSD, psychological/emotional abuse, munchausen syndrome by proxy

Part 6 of Tales of Apotelesma

You can also read this fic on AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

~~~

He doesn’t remember how he ended up lying on the ground.  

He stares at the sky, only to find the full moon staring back at him.  

Where am I?

What am I doing here?

An agonizing wail distracts him from his own thoughts. If only he could move his body, it would be easier to find out what’s going on here. He starts to lose his sight as he feels something come out from his head, dripping to his ear, then to his back. He tries to glance at his surroundings in vain and realizes that his eyes are going to betray him again.  

Then he feels it— pain.  

A tremendous pain all over his body.  

The woman is screaming again. This time it is louder and sounds a lot more terrifying.  

As he struggles to move his body, with desperation creeping in his spine, he finally sees a glimpse of the woman’s figure. Standing on the rooftop of the house, she is trembling and sobbing. He can’t hear what she’s murmuring, yet something forces him to keep his eyes on her. It’s against his will, and he can’t do anything against it.  

To be fair, everything doesn’t make any sense to him since the beginning. He just wants to end this absurd dream.  

But now he’s sure of something; that he recognizes her face. He can see it clearly now. It all makes sense why she looks familiar since the first time he had this dream. The same cold, void eyes...  

… that belong to the late Asteria Crescent.

---  

The first thing that Vergil feels before he opens his eyes is someone else’s hand over his face. He stares blankly at the dark, which he soon recognizes as Dante’s hand blurring his vision.

He pushes Dante’s hand slowly without waking him up, recalling the memory before the twins ended up passed out on the Devil May Cry entrance floor.  

The party went smoothly. Kyrie loved the music box that Vergil gave her and wore the bracelet after he told her its function. The meal was delicious. The kids were well-behaved—more than usual—they even went to bed early with Kyrie. After that, they played poker and Dante suggested having a drinking game. Vergil was never a heavy drinker, but of course he was forced to join the game. In the end, they drank too much and could barely remember who won the gamble.  

Vergil doesn’t remember the details, but the last thing he knew was that the cards and the smell of alcohol were all over the place. The entire crew passed out. Succumbing to alcohol and an over-flowing fatherly instinct, Vergil moved Nero to the couch and put a pillow under the young devil hunter’s head. He said goodbye to Trish, who was half-asleep on the dining table. Then he dragged Dante with him, made a sloppy movement to create a portal to Devil May Cry before he eventually collapsed.

I shouldn’t have drunk that forsaken whiskey, Vergil curses himself.

The blue hybrid stretches his body and tries to get up feebly, kicking Dante’s waist. “Wake up, Dante. Don’t sleep on the floor.”

The younger twin replies with a soft snore.

Realizing that it’s going to be futile to wake Dante up, Vergil walks to the kitchen and grabs cold water from the refrigerator. His throat is dry and sore after swallowing too much whiskey. He empties half of the bottle while thinking about his weird dream again.  

“... Huston...” Dante murmurs in his sleep.

Vergil furrows his brow. “Who?”

“Play me... Elena Huston...”

Vergil puts the bottle on the table and back to Dante, grabbing his little brother’s ankle and drags him to Dante’s room clumsily. The alcohol still exists in his blood, making him slightly difficult to coordinate his movement. After struggling a little while to put the red devil on the bed and taking off his shoes, Vergil covers Dante’s body with a blanket. Foolish, meddlesome, slovenly little brother, Vergil grumbles, unaware of his opposite brotherly act of love he has done to Dante.

“Hey Verge...” Dante mumbles.

“What?”

“Thanks... you ... sleep... too...”

“Shut up, Dante. Just sleep.”

Vergil chuckles silently after watching Dante go back to unconsciousness. He laments the time gap between them. He didn’t have a chance to grow up together with his brother, but although he was indifferent to humanity, he secretly hoped that Dante was safe, wherever his brother would be. Even when he had defeated Dante for numerous times, he had never meant to kill him even for once.

Vergil cares for his brother more than he would ever admit.

He heads out from the room and takes a seat on the couch. When he’s about to take off his coat, he feels his phone is vibrating. He takes the phone to decline the call and shut the phone down, but Lyra’s name pops on the screen.

Coincidence?  

He picks the call.

“Vergil?”

“...”

“Vergil? Are you there?”

“I’m fine,” he replies, almost like a whisper. “Just a little... tipsy.”

Vergil hears her snorting. “I thought you hated alcohol? You said it makes you lose your control or whatsoever.”

“Let’s just say the crews made me do it.”  

“Even Vergil Sparda couldn’t escape peer pressure, aye?”

A subtle smile appears on Vergil’s mouth. “This is midnight, Stardust. You should’ve slept.”

“I did. Then I woke up and couldn't sleep again. I remember you said cambions don’t need to sleep, so I reckon you are still awake. How was the party?”

“What can I say?” Vergil massages his brow, relieving the pain on it. “Kyrie loved my present. Nero was more talkative to me than usual. Dante was less annoying. For the first time since I came back from Underworld, Mary didn’t glare at me like she wanted to kill me. Trish was civil. Nicoletta still wants to touch Yamato. Morrison still insists to give me his cigarette. The three little rascals asked me to read them Animal Farm and they left early for bed.”

A mocking snort comes out from the librarian. “Normally you would say ‘ It’s fine’ or something like that, but now you bother to describe the entire events to me—not that I complained though—it just convinces me that Vergil Sparda is sloshed for real.”

“... I’m just... happy, I guess. That everything went well.”

“Glad to know it,” there’s a short pause before she continues to speak. “Hey... do you know that there's this flower called butterfly pea?”

“Consider this is the first time I heard that.”

“It’s originally from southeast Asia. It has a pretty blue colour and if we brew it, we can have a blue tea. Bought a jar of it from Chinatown. In fact, I’m thinking of brewing it now, and... I think it would be great if I drink it with a friend,” Lyra chuckles nervously. “Would you mind coming for a cuppa? I know it’s midnight and you’re inebriated right now but—”

“I accept the invitation.”

There’s a gasp. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“I thought you would decline it, but never mind! See you very soon!”

Vergil looks at the phone screen blankly after Lyra hangs up the call. Sounds odd. This is the first time she invites me to her house. What if this invitation has something to do with my dream?  

He remembers Lyra’s statement that she doesn’t believe in coincidence. It’s all but synchronicity, she had said.  

Coincidence or not, he decides to leave anyway.

---

Lyra’s neighborhood is always quiet. Surrounded by meadows and woods, her house is secluded and quite far from the central city. No one would have thought that there’s a small cottage here and someone lives there. Lyra had said to him once that she wants to live in solitude and avoid having some neighbors, or else she would go crazy by neighbors’ endless thoughts.

The door opens immediately after Vergil knocks. Lyra’s tender face shows up, smiling at his presence. She wears an oversized blue sweater and long pajama pants. But that’s not his main concern at the moment—it’s her stature. The moonlight helps Vergil to look at her scrupulously and realizes that he has never noticed how pale Lyra’s fair skin is, like she hasn’t seen the sun for a long time. Along with her dark eyes and shady smile, anyone could mistake her as a vampire.

“Welcome to my small and humble cottage,” the librarian chuckles after examining the devil hunter in front of her. “You look fine for a drunken man.”

Vergil shrugs. “Cut it out, will you?”

“Just messing with you. Climb aboard.”

As he follows behind her to enter the house, Vergil’s cautious eyes wander off to the house’ interior. The house is small with a cozy living room attached to the kitchen. The two doors beside the living room are assumed by Vergil to be a bedroom and a bathroom. He walks to the windows framed with burgundy drapes; the lace inner curtains remain drawn, allowing moonlight to enter the house. There he can see Lyra’s small garden, blooming delicately under the night sky.

“I always fancy stargazer lilies and munstead wood rose.” Lyra says from the kitchen.

“They look exquisite,” Vergil murmurs. “I can smell the fragrance even from here.”

Vergil still stands in his place, watching the midnight breeze swing the flowers. Some of its petals have fallen to the ground. The next thing he sees is the butterflies flying around munstead wood roses. It’s rare to find butterflies in this metropolis. Knowing that there’s still beauty worth living, Vergil is grateful that he isn’t dead yet. He spent most of his lifetime isolating himself from the world, loathing the beauty inside it because he thought it was worthless.

He glances to the kitchen where Lyra puts the kettle on the stove and takes a jar— he presumes that it’s dried butterfly pea— but seems like she’s having a tough time opening it. Trying his best to keep his dignity by not mocking her adorable struggle, he approaches her and takes the jar.

“The strange and powerful human being with the ability to move every object only with her mind, couldn’t even open a goddamn jar.” Vergil remarks in sardonic tone. “Is this what you call friendship? Acting as your jar opener and transportation device?”

Lyra taps her chin. “Tut-tut, Vergil Sparda. You forgot ‘personal bodyguard’ and ‘heat provider’.”

“I’ve never thought that you’re such an opportunistic capitalist who used your friend for your convenience.”

“Says a megalomaniac who raised a demon tree to fight his brother only to be kicked in the arse by his son.”

“... that's... it won’t happen again,” Vergil looks away as he gives her the jar. “Nero hasn’t succeeded in defeating me since I came back from the Underworld."

“Sure~ I believe you.” The teasing tone in Lyra’s word says otherwise, much to Vergil’s dismay. He decides to help her prepare the cups rather than to continue their banter as she puts the dried butterfly pea flower into the teapot. Lyra had told him to let her do all the work, but she finally gives up after Vergil glares at her while cleaning the cups with a napkin.

“You finally made your dream come true.” Vergil says, putting cups on the saucers.  

“What dream?”

Vergil points at a 36-strings lever harp beside the table in front of the sofa.

“Oh!” Lyra exclaims, turning the stove off and brings the kettle on the countertop. “Couldn’t afford to buy pedal harp, so I’m quite satisfied to have this one. Sugar or lemon? Plain blue tea tastes super earthy, only if that’s your preference.”

“Just lemon. Thank you.”

“Okay. Have a seat on the sofa. I’ll bring the tea right there,” she says.

Vergil takes his time to observe the living room, which he finds odd since he entered this house. This house is too... plain. Except for the harp, a chess board, some Rubik cubes on the table and an old radio on the kitchen counter, there’s almost no personal touch in this house. No family pictures, trophies, or even a bookshelf.

Considering she’s a bookworm, that’s terribly odd. But as she said, this cottage is small. He tries to ignore his hunch and turns his focus to admire the lever harp, plucking the strings cautiously and listening to its mesmerizing sound.

“You like it?” Lyra asks while putting the tray on the table and pouring the tea to their cups.

“It's magnificent,” Vergil takes his seat. “Let’s see if you’re capable of playing this astonishing instrument.”

“Challenge accepted!” the librarian drags the harp to her side. “Happy or sad?”

The blue devil stays silent for a while, staring at the cold fireplace before he glances at the window, remembering the moment when Lyra greeted him under the fair moonlight, causing his old soul to demand something soothing and nostalgic. “Play me Clair de Lune.”

Lyra nods cheerfully. “Easy peasy.”

It’s such a picturesque scenery, to witness Lyra hold the harp like she was born to play it. It’s the same bewitching phenomenon as their little adventure a few days ago when they stargazed together to see the Lyrids. He’s bemused once he hears the strings from the lever harp plucked and formed a beautiful composition. The brighter and folksy sound from lever harp is different from the classic pedal harp, yet it doesn’t change the beauty and romantic tone from the song.

Vergil finds himself frozen under the spell— it’s not just the song, he muses. It’s her.

Your soul is a chosen landscape

Where charming masquerades and dancers are promenading

Playing the lute and dancing, and almost

Sad beneath their fantastic disguise s

While singing in a minor key

Of victorious love, and the pleasant life

They seem not to believe in their own happiness

And their song blends with the moonlight

With the sad and beautiful moonlight

Which sets the birds in the trees dreaming?

And makes the fountains sob with ecstasy

The slender water streams among the marble statues.

By the time when Lyra finally reaches the song’s outro, Vergil senses his body is less tense and his head gets back its clarity after succumbing to alcohol for hours. Her fingers are getting slower as she plucks the pin and a string for the last time, a satisfied smile appears on her face, “I like this song.”

“So do I.” Vergil agrees.

She giggles. “Next time, it’s your turn to play me a song. Dante told me that you’re a gifted violinist. He sent me a video of you playing Caprice 24 yesterday.”

Vergil covers his face with his palm. “Kindly remind me to kill him soon.”

“You play eloquently. You should be proud!” Lyra giggles and pours honey inside her cup.

“Silence,” Vergil put a slice of lemon on his tea, the tail of his eyes spy on Lyra. “Instead of flattering me, why don't we just straight to the business?”

“Sorry?”

“It’s obvious that you didn’t invite me just for a cup of tea and impromptu recital.”

The puzzled expression on Lyra’s face answers it all. She doesn’t say anything for a quiet long time, still stirring her tea as if she’s still preparing what to say to him. Vergil suspects she would avoid his question, but she just sighs and finally sips her own tea, “You’re right. But first, drink your tea.”

Her eyes fixate on his, as if she commands him to mimic her gesture. He has no choice but to obey, lifting his cup to his mouth and carefully taste the blue tea. He enjoys the mixture between the natural flavor from the tea and the acid from the lemon, slurping more of them to please his throat. He would enjoy the tea more if Lyra didn’t give him that hollow gaze, causing him to wonder if she put poison inside the tea and wait for him to collapse, but if there’s any poison inside the tea, he would find it out even before he drinks it.  

“What do you think?” She blows the steam from the tea.

“It’s good. Not too bitter, nor too bland.”

“Drink a little more, then.”

Again, Vergil obeys her.

Lyra puts her cup on the table. “It’s easy, doesn’t it?”

“What is it?”

“When I told you to drink, it was easier for you to drink it.”

“I don’t see why it should be difficult to drink it. It tastes good and it’s an act of courtesy.”

“An act of courtesy,” she smiles bitterly. “Oh yeah, it was easier for me too.”

Vergil puts his cup on the table with the intention to end Lyra’s vague trickery. The words he says next are full of certainty. “You had a dream of me.”

Her eyes are widened, but she already expects him to spill the question. She nods, her fingers trail on a Rubik's cube. “Twice. Weird, huh?”

“What did you dream about?”

“Last night? I was you, grieven by the death of your father. You wandered to your mother’s room and cried together inside a drawer with Dante. An hour ago, I was you again, chained up and this titanic, god-like demon tortured you and called you ‘disgraceful offspring of the traitor Sparda’. I think it was Mundus.”

“That’s bizarre. I believe I haven’t told you about Dante and I inside the drawer. And that was what Mundus exactly told me when he tortured me in the Underworld.”

“What about you? Did you dream of me?”

“I did,” he admits. “I’m afraid I failed to understand the context, since you haven’t told me any single things about you.”

“Fair enough. In that case...” she holds her breath while solving the cube. “What did you see?”

“I believe I was on your point of view when the dream occurred. You were gravely ill and your mother tended you. I still can recall how bad your headache was from that dream. Then Asteria—  your mother—  read you The Hobbit . In that dream, I didn’t know who she was, until you mentioned her name this afternoon. I decided to not bring it up to you until I found out why I dream about something I’ve never experienced and why it was about you.”

“The dream, then,” she continues. “Have you seen another one after that?”

He shakes his head. “None whatsoever.”

“Really?”

Sorry, Lyra. “Yes. Why?”

“... nothing. A lot of weird things have happened since our accidental mind link. The dreams must be our memories. Let's say the dream was our brain projection of what we’ve told each other about our past, then how could we feel the pain we’ve never experienced before? How could I know the face of the demon I’ve never met before? I got a hypothesis that whenever I dream of you, you must’ve dreamt about me. But this time you didn’t dream of me while I dreamt of you. Seems like it doesn’t work like that...”

The sound of clicking cube stops at once, making Vergil wonder whether she stopped the cube because of his answer or she has solved the cube since all the layers are already in the right places.  

“I was sickly back then. Could barely leave my bed,” Lyra says, showing him the cube. “And this was the only thing I could do, aside from reading.”

Vergil receives the cube. “I saw plenty of this thing in my dream.”

She rests her back on the head of the couch. “What do you think of my mother?”

“She seems caring and nurturing.”

“Do you love your mother?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course.”

“I’m glad that you do.”

“You don’t love your mother?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, her eyes are dreary. She lifts her feet on the couch and moves her body to face the devil. “I don’t want to lie to you, Vergil.”

“Then don’t. We promised to not lie to each other.”

She chuckles coldly. “Where should I begin... oh right, I told you I was sickly. Mum said I got this rare genetic disorder called severe combined immunodeficiency. SCID made me extremely vulnerable of diseases. Therefore, I should live in a sterile and isolated environment. I could barely leave my own house, couldn’t even open the window just to smell my garden. Didn’t get a chance to meet new people other than my mother, my nurse— I forgot her name, I never liked her anyway— and my governess, Norma.”

Lyra closes her eyes for a while before she continues. “She was a great scientist. She was the smartest person I’ve ever known. She was the one who made me in love with astronomy. I could only see her infamous work on telly and newspapers. Some days, there were people who came to visit us and talked to mum. They were forbidden to meet me because of my condition. Some of them left me notes and little presents, wishing me good health. They told my mum to have faith and carry on. And whenever my mum had to attend international conferences, she cried so much a day before her flight because she had to leave me, even though Norma was there with me.”

“What about your father?”

“Never knew him. Mum was never married. She always looked blue whenever I asked her about my father, so I stopped asking.”

Lyra clenches her hand before taking the Rubik cube from Vergil’s hand and begins to play it again. “We only had each other, that means we need to protect each other. I never questioned anything because she took care of me and devoted on me. If it wasn’t my mother, who else wanted to take care of me? I liked Norma, but she was paid for nursing me. She could leave anytime soon, but not my mum. She was the only family I had, and I loved her.”

Lyra gazes at Vergil, whose face is straight still without any meaningful reactions. “I ate and slept as ordered. Took my medicines. Never once went outside the house. I did exactly what my mum instructed. But one day I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt dizzy almost every day. I threw up a lot. Sometimes I couldn’t even move my own body. I didn’t feel any better, just getting worse day by day. I felt like I could die any time.”

She shuffles the cube again after solving it. “One day, I stopped taking all of it.”

“The medicines.” Vergil emphasizes, remembering the nasty smell of medicine in his dream.

Lyra nods. “No matter how persistent Mum’s and the nurse' persuasion, I didn’t take it. I just wanted it to be over. Then something unexpected happened,” she lets out a small grin. “I was getting better. Much better. I could walk without taking a deep breath anymore. I went to the garden without having a nosebleed. I didn’t throw up. My headache was gone. I felt like I was... reborn.”

Lyra takes another deep breath; her hands stop shuffling the cube. “I never said it out loud, but Mum was sick. Very sick,” she taps her head with her index finger. “Mentally.”

Vergil tilts his head. That’s unexpected. “What makes you think so?”

The librarian puts the cube on the table, leaving it unsolved. “Any time I refused to take medicine or disobeyed her, she distanced herself from me. She didn’t reciprocate everything I did. She was just going straight inside her room and locked the door. It was almost like she resented me— no, punishing me for disobeying her. She loved playing this guilt-trip game so much. It seems like she liked it whenever she succeeded to make me think that I was a worthless daughter.”

“I know there are parents who treat their children poorly and abusively,” Vergil contemplates. “But I’m afraid I still couldn’t comprehend why your mother did that to you. You were only a child. A terribly ill child. She should’ve been happy instead of punishing you for your better condition. I understand that we could never judge a book by its cover, but… in my dream, she seemed like... she loved you wholeheartedly. Why would she want to hurt her own daughter?"

Lyra hugs her knees. “When someone keeps putting a person in ugly circumstances, I can only think that it’s either out of hatred or love.”

“Why would you put the person you love in such circumstances?”

“Love can be... poisonous,” Lyra stares blankly at the ceiling. “It’s always easier to hurt someone you hate. It makes more sense. But if you love someone, you’d do anything for them, even if it’s beyond logic, consciously or not. You’d call it kindness and love, but it’s actually poison. You hurt your beloved ones and say that you do that because you love them. You keep them close to you, shower them your love until they’re blind by your love and never find the help they really need...”

Noticing her body begins to shiver, Vergil takes off his coat and wraps it around Lyra’s body to keep her comfortable. He couldn’t help but empathized with her. She’s as confused as he is about human emotions, which is surprising. She always looks so confident, like there’s no obstacle that could damage her. But now while she slowly reveals her past, she looks extremely vulnerable. It makes Vergil want to help her somehow, even just to calm her down.

“Here,” Vergil says, hesitantly offers his hand. “Just until you feel better.”

Lyra’s anxiety gradually calms down as their hands are attached. Vergil’s gloved palm is hard as steel—one squeeze can crush her bone, yet she can only feel the warmth between their entangled hands.

She lets out a sad smile. How long has it been since the last time someone holds my hand?  

“Do you feel better now?” Vergil finally breaks the ice.

“A little,” Lyra agrees. “Although I must admit, this is awkward.”

Vergil closes his eyes and chuckles as he rests his body on the head of the sofa. “I don’t know what madness leads me to do this. Perhaps it’s because of you. You are a terrible influence for me.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to your best friend!”

“How unfortunate.”

With their hands still attached, Lyra lowers the coat from her head, revealing threads of her golden brunette hair, shifting her body to lean on the sofa. “Have you ever heard about Munchausen syndrome?”

“A mental disorder in which a person deliberately malingering?”

“Yup. And there is another one called Munchausen by proxy. Means the caregiver is the one who fakes the illness in a person under their care.”

“You mean...”

Lyra scoffs bitterly. “I know one should not self-diagnose without proper professional assessment. Mum was never clinically diagnosed, nor that people noticed her traits. They only knew her as a devoted mother and a great scientist. But I’m the one who lived under the same roof with her and I knew her better than anyone else. I could give you examples of how much my mother loved me”

“There was one time after my refusal to take my medicines, she humiliated me in front of her colleagues,” she continues with a calmer voice. “I was helping her to arrange a bouquet of roses to be placed at the living room. It was unusual that she allowed me to do the ‘hard work’. I did what she asked. I wanted to please her, just to see her smile again. I wanted her to look at me as her daughter, not a failure. I cut the roses diligently, and my fingers were bleeding because I was careless. I didn’t know that Mum brought her colleagues home, and they saw my bleeding fingers. She went nuts when she saw my fingers, scolded me for touching the roses. She said rubbish like, ‘I told you to not touch them!’ ‘Why are you so careless?’ ‘Oh, my poor, darling baby’ while her colleagues gave us the pity look as Mum brought me to my chamber, tended my wounds exaggeratedly, telling me that the pain will be gone soon and the wounds won’t leave any scratches. I was going to ask her why she lied to her colleagues but she kept shushing me like I’m a bloody idiot. I was confused, like, what did I do wrong?”

Lyra glances at Vergil, whose eyes are fixated to the fireplace in a silent rage. “You might’ve thought I was too naïve to indulge her unhealthy behaviour.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You were too weak and innocent to defend yourself,” the door to Vergil’s memory palace where his darkest memories are stored is widely opened. “It sounds like self-justification, but we were just children. We couldn’t have known the cause of what was happening back then. You didn’t deserve everything your mother did to you.”

The contemplative words from Vergil slightly lightens the weight on Lyra’s shoulders. Her solemn smile emphasizes her hidden sadness and weariness. “At those days, I thought she was just knackered, or in a bad mood. Maybe she really worried about me. Maybe I was too stubborn and that made her gutted, so I endured. I took those bloody medicines because it was easier for me. She was so happy and for a moment, I thought I was happy too. Took it longer for me to realize that I was frightened, but I had no options but obeyed her.”

Vergil remains silent whilst feeling Lyra’s thumb tapping on the back of his hand. He waits patiently for her to gather herself before she mumbles quietly. “I’ve been wondering too... why would anyone want to go back to the person who hurt them?”  

“Violence often acts in a cycle,” Vergil squeezes her hand lightly as a reassurance. “Once the perpetrator realized their mistake, they would beg for forgiveness. Some people mean it, some people don’t,” he sighs deeply, carefully putting his words together. “You thought by forgiving your mother, she could change for the better. That forgiveness would improve your relationship with her. You came back to her, sacrificing your safety and well-being to seek her love and comfort. She planted the fear inside you. It was a wheel you couldn’t escape. But you were never a fool for coming back to her. You loved her and you were a child who had no one to have your back but your mother. Even when your expectation failed you, you could only rely on her. ”

“I tried to break the wheel,” Lyra pulls away their hands and cups her face, sliding it to her head like she had a headache. “There were countless times when I thought about running away. But it never happened. I couldn’t even survive five minutes outside. If I told anyone about my suspicion of Mum’s actions on me, they would never believe me and call me a spoiled child instead. Norma was the only person who believed me. She was trying to help me, like quietly flushing the medicines whenever I couldn’t take it anymore. Then she was fired shortly after she spoke to Mum about her nonsensical punishment to me.”

Lyra bites her lips. “It seemed like Mum tried to cut every string with Norma. I never heard about her anymore. Never found her phone number or address. There was a time when I missed her but I couldn’t contact her. She was the only person who believed me and my mother took her away from me because Norma defended me from Mum’s fucked up behaviour.”

A sting of familiar dread creeps inside Vergil’s bone, despite his awareness that it wasn’t his own fear but residues from his first dream about Lyra. He remembers his futile effort to move the body and the way Asteria’s calm yet terrifying gaze at him when she feeds him. The unpleasant sound from the friction between the spoon and the bowl... Asteria’s shady voice as she told him her worries...

“I told you I never knew exactly when I acquired my power, right? Because as long as I remember, I always had this power from the very beginning. I knew what pawn Norma would pick whenever we played chess. I knew the next word my mother was going to say. There were times I accidentally moved things even without touching them. I thought I was just imagining things,” Lyra fixes Vergil’s coat. “Therefore, when Mum scolded me again, I felt my wrath burning and something inside me burst out. I was shocked because suddenly almost anything inside my bedroom was dropped—the books, the toys, the lamps. Mum was pale and silent like a ghost while staring at the mess, until the nurse came. She glared at me like I was a freak and the last thing I remember was I woke up and was unable to move my body. I suspected Mum had me drugged again to prevent me causing havoc. She still had the audacity to act normal, even read me The Hobbit like yesterday was nothing.”

Vergil’s icy eyes get wider slightly. “The event in my dream...”

“Now you know,” Lyra giggles but her face stays impassive. “Then a month later, there came the moment when we both fell.”

Vergil straightens up his body. The picture of his second dream of her comes up in his mind. The same soulless eyes that he saw back then when there was a murder in the library a few months ago appear once more on Lyra. Somehow, Vergil knows where this conversation is heading and he knows he won’t like it. “What do you mean by 'we’ ?”

The pure honesty in Lyra’s eyes makes Vergil’s blood curdle. “I told you, didn’t I? I don’t want to lie to you.”

---

It was the end of the fall season when six-years old Lyra woke up from her slumber. She glanced at the clock on the wall, grinning unconsciously. They say 3 o’clock in the morning is devil’s hour. Unable to go back to sleep, she grabbed her mauve cardigan and decided to take a little detour to the balcony. I could find some autumn constellation, she thought with excitement. She remembered her mother hadn’t packed the cool and sophisticated telescope she had always admired since the very first time Asteria brought it home, and she left it on the balcony this afternoon.

Little Lyra succeeded sneaking out from her bedroom. The mouthful and annoying nurse was nowhere to be seen. She was sure that Asteria is already sleeping. Lately, Asteria didn’t show her ‘lunatic’ nature to Lyra, which Lyra was grateful for. So when she found Asteria on the balcony, Lyra’s excitement instantly turned into fear. Her mother stood with her hands on the balustrade. The telescope was still there, but it seems like Asteria hadn’t used it again since the afternoon. Thinking that her mother wouldn’t notice her presence, Lyra tip-toed to going back to her chamber, but Asteria saw her and startled. It was almost like Asteria scared of being caught on the balcony.

“Solstice?” Asteria gasped. “Why do you— oh, never mind. You must be here to stargaze, aren’t you? Come here, sweets.” A warm smile appeared on her face as she sat on the chair and fixed the telescope.

Lyra’s fight or flight instinct soared up. It was already horrible to think her mother would scold her for sneaking from her bed, but the sullen face of Asteria was unsettling. It looked like she was able to burst any time soon.

“Come on,” Asteria insisted. “Look, there is Andromeda!”

Without making any sound, Lyra climbed on her mother’s lap timidly. Asteria told her to peek into the eyepiece, which Lyra reluctantly did.

“What do you think?” asked Asteria.

“Beautiful,” Lyra said. “But I don’t understand.”

“About what?”

“The pattern. Andromeda doesn’t look like she was chained. More like she fell from the sky and died on the ground.”

Asteria chuckled. “As per usual, sweets. You have a vivid imagination.”

“I just don’t like that story. It was Andromeda’s parents’ fault, but she was the one who got sacrificed.”

“The gods punished her parents too.”

“Yet the gods placed them among the stars. It’s not fair.” Lyra murmured.

“Well, it’s mythology,” Asteria caressed Lyra’s hair. “On the other side, I think Cassiopeia loved her daughter. Too much that she got the audacity to boast about Andromeda’s beauty. If she were really that self-centred, she’d boasted her own beauty instead.”

Lyra’s small hands adjusted the focusing knob slowly. “If she really loved her, she would think for her daughter’s safety.”

It took Asteria a quite long time to respond. She hugged her little daughter from behind, resting her head on Lyra's crown and massaging Lyra’s shoulders. “Why don’t you go back to sleep? It’s cold here.”  

Mummy sounds tired, Lyra noticed. Yet asking questions right now wouldn’t be the best choice. Asteria gave her a good night kiss lightly before letting Lyra off from her lap.

“You’re right. Cassiopeia’s pride put her daughter in danger,” Asteria said, cuddling her daughter tightly. “I love you, Solstice. I’m sorry for everything.”

What was that? Lyra felt an itchy ache somewhere in her heart by just listening to her apology, but Asteria just smiled as if she had never said anything. She waved at her, telling her wish for Lyra to have a sweet dream.

Lyra walked away from her mother with heavy steps, despite her wish to stay a little bit longer. Asteria seemed to be in a good mood this time, and that tender side of her melted Lyra’s heart. She’s her mother, after all. She couldn’t help but love her unconditionally. I hope I don’t agitate her, she hoped as she turned her direction to enter the balcony again, planning to beg to stay for a while.

But when she turned around, the horror already waited for her there.

Lyra was screaming like a wild animal as she ran and ran...

“MUMMY!!!!!”

… towards Asteria, who jumped from the balustrade.

Don’t leave me here! Lyra’s body felt like it was burning in blaze. She could feel an overwhelming power within her burst out. Please God, let me use that power again!  

Her breath got heavier as she jumped from the guardrail and reached her hand to her mother with a hope to save her. It felt like eternity when she realized that her mother was floating on the air instead of falling. With an eerie face, Asteria screamed her daughter’s name while she was brought by an invisible force to the rooftop again.

I did it! Lyra thought cheerfully, but not for long because she quickly realized her mysterious power didn’t bring her to the balcony too. She tried to focus on herself, doing whatever she can to release her power again. She knew her power was still raw and immature. She had planned to practice secretly tomorrow, but she had no idea that things would go south like this. The first was always luck or coincidence, Norma had said to Lyra when she found out Lyra’s little secret. But there will be no more luck for the second time. There is no such thing as coincidence, but synchronicity...

While Lyra was still thinking about why her power didn’t work, her body crushed on the ground violently.

She was sure she heard the sound of her fractured bones.

She had never experienced that kind of pain before. All those side effects from her medicines was nothing compared to this one. The pain gradually ended as the numbness consumed her body. She looked at the sky, thinking how poetic her fall was under the fair moonlight with her motionless body. She was sure she saw Asteria on the balcony, shrieking and saying something she could not comprehend. Why did she jump? Was that because of me? Maybe because I made Mummy angry again... maybe afterlife seems better than living with me...

Lyra was willing to go. Afterall, she was sick of being isolated. Death seems promising. At least she would be free from medicine and endless hope for getting a healthy body. I look like Andromeda , she thought as she felt her eyes getting heavier. Like someone lying dead on the ground.  

She knew it’s time to go when her eyelids could barely manage to stay open. She hoped Asteria would live a better world without her. If only she could laugh right now, she would do it for the last time, so she wouldn’t feel too bitter about death.

Mum—  

Unfortunately, she never got a chance to think further. The only thing she saw before she lost her consciousness was her mother climbing up the balustrade again, this time to follow her daughter to death.

---

“Stardust?”

The gentle voice of Vergil startles Lyra back to reality. She doesn’t know how long the time has passed since she told him how her mother died. The long, buried weariness and sadness inside her consumes her like she has just released a huge burden from her body at once.

“Sorry, I was preoccupied with my own head.” Lyra scratches her right ankle, a habit she couldn’t let go since that tragic day. “You alright?”

“I was supposed to be the one who asked,” the blue devil says. “Are you sure you’re going to continue? We could discuss this later.”

“Nah, I’m fine. Just adjusting myself because I’ve never opened up to anyone else before,” Lyra continues, ignoring Vergil’s pity look. “Anyway, after that, I woke up in the local hospital. They said my nurse heard my mother’s scream and went to check. That was how she found us and called the ambulance. When we reached the hospital, they said they couldn’t save us. They went insane because suddenly my heart started beating again in an hour. They put me under intensive care for three months. I got severely broken bones and head trauma—I needed to do a couple more surgeries and physiotherapy. They said it was a miracle for me to survive and recover rapidly.”

“That must have something to do with your power.” Vergil adds.

“That’s very likely. I woke up hearing voices and seeing things I wasn’t supposed to be. I thought I was just dreaming, but day by day I spent my time hospitalized, I knew it was real. Those voices and images were people’s thoughts,” Lyra chuckles with irony on her lips. “It was already too much for me to read minds at once, and then I found out that my mother died. I saved her life just for giving her a chance to jump again.”

She sounds ireful rather than sad, Vergil suspects. He can’t deny his instinct to not let his attention to Lyra’s right ankle, which he stores his suspicion for a long time.

“One day, Mum’s lawyer came to visit me at the hospital. She said since I’m an orphan and have no relatives, she will act as my guardian and I’ll receive inheritance whenever I reach legal age. The whole ‘guardian’ part was just formality because she’ll send me to an orphanage once I get discharged from hospital. Even I knew what she had stored in mind before she started to speak. But that didn’t really concern me,” Lyra takes a deep breath and exhales. Her expression is slightly twisted as she telekinetically raises a Rubik's cube and tears every cube apart before she smashes them into flakes.

What in the seven hells— “Lyra?” Vergil calls her, but the word seems unreachable to her.

“I was going to forgive my mother because I wanted her to rest in peace, yet again she proved it to me that she was a fucking devil.”

Another cube is crushed, followed by a loud cracking sound from the teacup.

“The lawyer couldn’t bear to tell me this, but she found fake prescriptions of my daily medicines and a drawer full of placebo pills in my mother’s room. The doctors told her that they found traces of placebo pills and a very tiny dose of rat poison inside me. A. Fucking. Rat. Poison—”

The radio on the kitchen counter starts playing by itself, followed by a loud bang from Lyra’s front door.

“It was all placebo. There was never a fucking SCID nor fucking illness. I was perfectly fine from the start! The only reason why I always felt sick was because of that rat poison and abominable suggestions from that fucking b—”

Vergil grips her shoulder. “Lyra, you will destroy the entire house. Please stay calm.”  

The view of her floating table pulls Lyra back to the earth. She startles at first, but it doesn’t last as she finally gathers herself and puts the table back to the ground. The bleak on her face remains while she tightens up Vergil’s coat. “Sorry.”

“I told you to stop earlier.”

“I can never be ready to tell you the truth unless I do it right now.”

“Fine, but if I notice even a small sign of you going berserk again, we have to stop this conversation.”

“Deal.”

“Good. Then, did the nurse have any knowledge about the poisoning?”

Lyra shakes her head in disappointment. “She claimed that Mum just gave her my medical certificate and records, which the lawyer found to be fake. Mum made up those records as if they were authorized by a credible health facility. She made up things and fucked up my life for Hell knows what she was up to. Then she just fucking died and leaving me alone without any explanation on everything.”

Vergil wipes his face in frustration, This is more messed up than I thought it would be.  

Lyra lets out a rugged laugh. “You know what happened next. The media never told people how my mother died.”

“That’s what I always thought to be very suspicious. They can’t just spread false rumour. There’s evidence, witnesses and statements from the police and hospital.”

“All I could think was that Asteria Crescent was an infamous astrobiologist with great reputation. Imagine if the world knew this brilliant person was a mad woman who poisoned her own daughter. That would destroy the reputation of academical world. Her good legacy must be remembered.”

“... Was that really easy for humans to alter the truth?”

The librarian laughs bitterly. “They do it all the time, Vergil. It’s easier than you think it is. Money talks louder than words. They must’ve silenced Mum’s lawyer too since she said nothing about the truth to me. I tried to tell them that my mother was insane and that wasn’t how she died, but they thought I was the one who lost my mind. PTSD, head trauma, reconstructed memory, call it what you want. I don’t know who started it, why and how, but they closed the case.”

“But who were these people? Why did such a grandiose plan just to cover up a scientist’s death?”

“Who knows. There’s always someone behind the stage.”

“And they really sent you to an orphanage?”

“Yes, maybe to shut my mouth. Mum’s lawyer managed my financial support, but she never showed up at the orphanage.”

Lyra bites her lips, like she doesn’t know how to continue and stumbles over her own words. She scratches her right ankle again. “Kids in the orphanage used to tease me for limping whenever I walked. It’s odd for me, even until now. The doctor said I had fully recovered, just needed to adjust myself to the outside world since I stayed indoors for too long. But the sore thing in my ankle here never really disappears. I never found out why. All doctors I’ve consulted with said despite the fading scar on the skin, my ankle is perfectly fine and should’ve been functional. People couldn’t even see me limping, at least until a certain sulky devil spotted it.”

“I’m not sulky.”

“The more you deny it, the more it’s true.”

“Your logical fallacy amuses me.”

A relieved laugh comes out from Lyra. “You got me there.”

With the smile on her face blooming again, Vergil feels a towering wave of unpleasant ache filling his whole heart. Right now, he can grasp the reason why Lyra acts too secretive. He knows that burden very well; to be unable to trust anyone but themselves. Lyra has never received the real love from her mother, which was different from Vergil. Her childhood and self-esteem were stolen from her own kin. That is also the reason why Lyra can easily understand him, despite his despicable sins. Lyra has already had the power and was able to save her mother, yet in the end Asteria chose to kill herself. Contrary to Vergil, who even had demon power since birth, but he couldn’t save his mother from her doom. His love for his family was Vergil’s motivation to gain more power, which is a total opposite from Lyra who hates her mother and resents her power. They are two sides of the same coin.

“Terra to Vergil?” Lyra snaps her fingers in front of Vergil’s face.

“Pardon me,” Vergil says. “I was just contemplating.”

“About what?”

“About how humans can be so much worse than demons. No offense.”

“None had taken.”

The blue devil hesitates before he asks. “How... How did you cope from that?”

“Hmmm...” Lyra mumbles and sighs heavily. “It’s not easy. It still affects me in a way. I grew up thinking that people can’t be trusted. Telepathy made it worse. I hesitate to live, but I don’t want to die either. It’s difficult to form any connection, no matter how much effort I took to fit in. I’m not even sure myself whether this is the real me or I’m just a skilled imitator who fits people’s expectations.”

She smiles, this time the gloom on her lips is fading. “I met people who were sincerely decent and empathetic. But somehow, I just couldn’t bring myself to open up and let them enter my circle. I used to blame my mum for this trust issue, but lately I suspect it was on me.”

“You’re not the one to blame, Lyra.”

Lyra shakes her head. “I choose to leave them before they get too close to me.”

“Because you don’t want people to see your scar?”

“I thought the reason I’m pulling myself from society was because I’m afraid that I’d get hurt. Took me a long time to realize that I’m worried that I’d hurt people. That’s what you got when you have a telepath as your friend. You’d get caught in endless insecurity of having your minds in constant danger, while I really don’t want to read one. If only Sparda’s magic didn’t protect you and Dante, you’d leave me since day one.”

“I won’t.”

“Mundus screwed up your brain, Vergil. You have a thousand reasons for hating telepaths.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I saw your dreams. I know how much you want to kill those who fucks with you.”

“And I saw yours too, Lyra. I know how much you hate your mother, but deep down you still love her. Even since you saw her falling from the balcony.”

The realization hits her hard. “Wait— you knew this all along?!”

“Forgive me, but you won’t tell me the truth unless I told you a white lie. Your hypothesis is true; that our dreams occurred simultaneously.”

“You—” Lyra glares at Vergil like he has done treacherous betrayal, but she gathers herself up since she knows she was the one who lied to him first. She can’t deny that everything he said was true. It has been said that the dead won’t stay only if the living sets them free. For Lyra, it jabs her heart whenever she tries to brush that fact away. She knows that her hatred would rot her soul, yet it’s difficult to forgive her mother, who had tried to end her life multiple times.

“I envy you, Vergil,” Lyra confesses. “You were an arsehole evil lord back then, but you had a reasonable motive for fighting. You have a family. I got none. I don’t see the point of keep going on. Everyone wants me dead.”

“People are afraid of what they don’t understand,” Vergil states without any doubts in his voice. “It’s understandable since you’re undeniably enigmatic and can be threatening. But my fool brother of mine was right; strength is a choice. You choose to be strong to prevent more loss. You have every right to live, for death is the end. Make a full life while it lasts.”

“I wonder if I had such a reason to stay.”

Vergil straightens up his seat with a wary and cautious expression. “Sometimes… It doesn’t have to be something big. “

“Such as?”

“I don’t know…” he chuckles half-heartedly. “Don’t you have something to cherish for? Something that makes you willing to trade your life with?”

“Hmmm…. I love my job. I love books and the stars. But I don’t think I’d give up my life for that...” Lyra hums indifferently. “I think not. Nothing very important in particular.”

“There are things that could be important, but not everything important is worth cherishing.”

“What makes it different?”

“As time goes on, important things could become less important. The urgency wears off,” Vergil says quietly as he curves a faint smile, reminiscing his bonding time with Nero. “But something precious, something you hold dear most... you will suffer when they are taken from you.”

“Something precious, huh...?” Lyra’s eyes wander off, her voice is softer than a whisper. “Like... you...?”

Vergil almost gets choked by his own breath. “Beg your pardon?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing!”

“I’m certain that you said something.”

“If you’re so certain about that, why can’t you listen and repeat back what I said?”

“Because I couldn’t hear that properly!”

“Your loss.”

“You meddlesome creature.”

“You angry kitten.” Lyra holds her mouth to prevent her laughter from going too loud.

Vergil glares at her. “What did you just call me?!”

“Nothing~ I’m sleepy~” Lyra stretches her arms, the corner of her eyes flashes a mischief as she glances to the oblivious Vergil. “Those self-help books were right. It’s relieving to have the right person to share the burden with—”

“Don’t you dare try to change the topic. If you ever call me an angry kitten again—”

“We’re still talking about that? Bloody hell, Vergil, I’m just kidding!” Lyra holds his palms and takes off his gloves. “Come on, we need to rest. You might be sober now but even the strongest demon needs to sleep.”

A light crumple curves on Vergil’s forehead. “Why do you take my gloves off?”

“Do you have a habit to keep your gloves on while sleeping?”

“Hold on,” Vergil hesitates as he pulls his hand. “You want me to sleep here? In your house?”

“Yup.”

“You know that it’s not… very decent for an unmarried woman and a man to stay under the same roof.”

“Since when do you care about custom?”

“I’m not necessarily care about customs,” Vergil grunts. “It’s your convenience that I’m concerned about.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Lyra cleans up the table and waves her hand to send the tray to the dishwasher before making her way to the bedroom. “But my sofa is too small for you, and considering I have a quite spacious bed that fits two people, I don’t see any reasons why I would let my friend freeze on the sofa.”

Lyra opens the door, glancing at Vergil and tilts her head as a sign for him to follow her into the bedroom.

~~~

A/N : the poem mentioned in this chapter is “Clair de Lune” by Paul Verlaine, which is the inspiration for Claude Debussy’s Clair de Lune

Tagging : @drusoona @harlot-of-oblivion @shiranyaaww  @queenmuzz @rubixa-seraph @andieperrie18

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#devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #vergil x oc #vergil #vergil x lyra #spark of stardust #tales of apotelesma #original character #oc #lyra #night writes

[spirit-of-the-void]

Ebony and Ivory- Bonus Vergil Ending

Author’s notes: So. This took me a really long time to write, and...well...I dont really know what to say about that. To be honest, the V ending got a lot of complaints, and it really tore down my motivation and confidence for this fic, for writing in general. Not to mention I was trying to get my life together for the beginning of this year, but the virus shit kind of ruined everything so im just...dead for the most part. Shit sucks, I’m tired, but...I felt bad about never giving this ending, so i did my best to make it something worth reading for you all. Im sorry it took so long, im sorry i never write or post anymore. Im just really doing my best to get through each day, and im really grateful for those of you who stuck around, and those who didnt

Heres to, hopefully, more writing in the future.

Bonus Chapter

Vergil’s alternate ending

So lost in the gravity of the moment, minds addled and fogged with sadness, pain, and rage...neither man heard you.

The Outsider didn’t notice you snap out of the pocket Void he held you in, didn’t hear the shattering of obsidian and the distant howl of a thousand voices screaming their denial, their sheer despair at your choice. After all, this place was a part of you--The void wanted it too, ached and craved and begged for his punishment. The man who caused you so much pain, left abandoned and alone to suffer all the agonies a world could offer. Surely this could not be, surely you weren’t making this choice, willingly embracing this agony in all its absolute brilliance?

 It hurt, it hurt. The pain was so fresh and alive, it rattled through your bones and spread like boiling, freezing water through every joint and tendon. Memory had always been your burden, from the moment you entered the Void to every fresh breath of it you drew to fight being swallowed whole by the inky abyss. And now those memories were like brands, searing into your skin and leaving scars so deep that they were numb. The burn didn’t stop, and neither would the images that came with them.

Images of your baby. Your son--Nero.

The instant you relieved that moment, saw his tiny form peppered with a tuft of white hair upon a shivering head you screamed, thrashing against the obsidian hands holding you back. One by one they shattered, shards drifting into absolute nothingness like dust floating on the breeze. More and more they came, trying to wipe it all away. And still...you writhed, shouted, held onto every moment, every pain. The guilt was more agonizing than anything else, sending your limbs trembling and mouth open in a soundless cry to join the ever shrieking masses. You left him, you forgot him. Your flesh and blood, your son left on a doorstep alone to grow up feeling abandoned and neglected. 

No amount of power could change what had happened to your mind, to your body bleeding out on a sidewalk. Strength was just a fleeting concept then, a whispered promise of brighter futures than your soul was made to endure. When that agony returned, when the tragedy of that day struck it left you shattering and broken, glass upon the ground begging to be picked up again. You weren’t like that anymore.

Strength was no longer an empty promise, it was something real and tangible. You could hold it in your hands, cradle it and nurture it with everything you had. It existed in the laughter of friends, in the feeling of holding a loved one’s hand,  deep breaths of ocean air and memories made in that place of tragedy that were so bright. For so long now ignorance had been your enemy, snatching away so much happiness and leaving you wanting. Losing V, the Outsider’s betrayal, this--if only you had known, if only things could change. If only. You were tired of those two words, the taste of them now foul and bitter like poison shoved down your throat. There it choked, spat out with more force than ever thought capable. No more ignorance, no more hiding from that deep, aching pain and regret--you knew now, and by the Void itself you would die before not knowing again. 

It felt like hours had passed before the hands finally stopped coming, a gasp escaping your lips like you had been held under the ocean’s weight the whole time. Finally, a breach. You crested over that familiar surface of water, falling upward until the familiar glow of the Void finally met your eyes. Obsidian hands managed to break your fall, eyes swimming with dizziness and tears while everything sank into the very core. Vergil, your love,  abandoning you, the order, the pregnancy, Nero--everything. This was the make or break moment, the time to sink or swim. You lay on the cold ground for some time, treading the waters of your own mind and trying not to drown while the Foresight screamed in unbearable pain. You would not break. You would not break. You would not break. 

You wanted to remember, wanted to remember everything. There were so many things that had to be said, apologies to be made, love to give. You wanted to weep at the feet of your son, to beg and plead for forgiveness and tell him how absolutely loved he was from the very start. To make up for lost time, to change everything without the fear of shattering apart. The past could not be fixed, mistakes were now written in stone. But you knew that didn’t have to mean the future had to be bleak. You remembered now--That deep feeling of love, meeting Vergil that first time and pouring everything into him. His betrayal had stung to your very core, had left your past self weeping along in a cold cell. But...that love wasn’t gone. It didn’t justify Vergil’s actions, but you knew now. No longer ignorant, having been so close and deeply in love with the human part of him he rarely showed. V, the broken man who wanted nothing more to be protected and loved. 

Now you knew both sides of the man you loved, and you didn’t want to lose that again.

Clarity seeped through the pain, weaving together the pieces left behind and keeping you solid. A wheeze escaped your lungs, sounds fading in and out as you struggled to rise from the ground. The Outsider’s voice, Vergil’s, the Void. Promises of punishing the son of Sparda, of leaving him still loving you while V was here to keep you happy and ignorant. Denial scraped along the already-battered walls of your head, gaze lifting just enough to see a blurry vision on the precipice of the endless sky. There the Outsider held Vergil up by his collar, framed by an endless glow without stars and no sun. Neither had noticed you, so lost in the Void’s howl and in the Outsider’s chiding promise. It made your teeth grind, head swimming with desperation and the unrivaled need to stop this, to stop everything. No more--no more pain, no more suffering, no more punishments. 

You dragged yourself, body trembling uncontrollably as the Foresight battled every inch of it. A fail safe, meant to protect you from memories that might bring about shattering. Right now it definitely wasn’t helping, but that didn’t mean you would stop. The hard ground of the debris scraped your legs as you went, but they were practically numbed by everything else. Whale oil rising like bile in your throat, eyes black and reflecting the Void’s glow like obsidian crystals. Your tears glistened, dew on their surface, falling steadily through the harsh, wheezing breaths. Clearer now, clearer every second. Vergil stared sightless ahead, eyes glazed and empty as he accepted the Outsider’s fate. His look of defeat shook you, made every cell scream out in denial and sorrow. Both of you were so young, so foolish, so desperate, so headstrong, so hurt--not anymore, not. Any. More.

“Vergil Sparda, this is your punishment for hurting my child.”

Enough. We’ve all had enough.

The Outsider jolted when you reached out, grasping the back of his jacket with shaking fists and pulling yourself upright. What a sight you must have been--body riddled in scratches from dragging yourself, pale and shaking while the wind whipped your hair into a senseless mess. The deity immediately gasped, dropping Vergil’s limp form in shock and leaving him sitting on the edge of the debris, jolted back into sense. For a brief moment, your eyes met. Agonized, horror-filled blue staring into the glistening black, reflecting so many emotions, apologies, and regrets. When he was like this, his expressions reminded you so much of V. You knew what he was seeing, feeling, remembering. Seeing what his choices wrought, the tragedy and despair left in the wake of an arrogant child’s selfishness and fear. And that’s what he looked like now--unabashed vulnerability, tears in his eyes threatening to drip down already-wet cheeks. That past was done, it was gone and left in the rubble of memories that longer mattered.

Here, now...that mattered.

“Y/N…!” The Outsider rasped in horror, griping both your shoulders as you grabbed the lapels of his jacket without letting go. It caused him to crouch to your level, expression filled with panic and shock as he continued on horrified, “You shouldn’t be here, you still...still--How did you manage to--”

You couldn’t explain, couldn’t give him the chance to send you back again. You choked on a shuddering breath, arms reaching up around his neck and pulling closer into the only embrace you had ever shared with the deity. The one who gave you life, saved you from the abyss and spent the past few years trying not to let you break--his methods were not the right ones to take, lingering in cruelty and the very pain he knew too. How could you expect a creature who knew nothing but the empty, mindless howl of the Void to know anything of comfort and affection? He had no one to teach him mercy, to remind him of what humanity was like. To let go, no more pain of betrayal, no more anger.

 He froze when you rested your face on his neck, body held against his as wind whipped around you both mercilessly. There was no warmth, not physically--but his chill was a comfort all its own,  a familiarity that kept you from shattering and calmed the Foresight into a low hum.

“N...no more…” Your voice was so tiny, a broken sob against his frozen skin as you squeezed tighter, “Please...please...No more.”

The Outsider swallowed hard, body still rigid as his hands very gently settled on your back. Like he was holding glass thinner than paper, on the verge of breaking. He grit his teeth, you could hear the grinding of his jaw from this close.

“You’re suffering,” He managed to rasp out, voice shaking with restrained emotion as one hand threaded through your hair, “My child, my only precious flower--you remember don’t you? You remember what he--”

I remember. I remember remember remember. And I never want to stop. 

“I don’t care…!” Your body shook harder, voice taking on the hard edge of resolve even while tears swam in your vision again. The memories hadn’t stopped, they refused to cease in their brutal assault. Vergil never coming to save you, the pain of being shot, giving birth alone and soaked to the bone. Blood on the sand, your son’s wail on the wind. His face, his tiny hands… You sucked in a shaking breath, heart aching as a broken whimper slipped from your lips, “Please...don’t take him from me...I can’t lose it again…”

I want to know him. I want to know Nero as my son. I want to know Vergil as my everything.

You didn’t want this pain to be a reminder anymore. You wanted to make new memories with your child, to make up for all the mistakes and everything he lost. To go on without knowing, to live in ignorance as his friend and listen to him speak of the sorrow that came with being abandoned...you would rather die. Guilt was not a stranger, and you knew it was possible to grow and heal from it again. Because you weren’t that broken soul in the Void anymore, having tasted what a happy life could truly be like at the very core of your being. A perfect word would have been Vergil coming to save you back then, stealing you away to a quiet place to give birth and raise your child together as better people, to move on. But this world was far from perfect, and that was okay. To learn, to move on and grow from what happened seemed too good to be true, but it was all you wanted, all you had. 

Vergil stared at you with absolute agony, those tears managing to trickle out against his will down sharp cheeks. You loved remembering him, those special first moments. Getting to hold his hand, a first kiss, that night...it had been everything, bringing familiarity to the time you had been with V. Of course the poet felt so right, so deeply familiar and necessary--your body remembered him, saw the black-haired human in every tender, vulnerable moment with Vergil. Getting to have them both was such a blessing, to learn that part of your soulmate so intimately and without restraint. He held so much back, drowned out by fear and pride that continued to choke his happiness. Things could change, they had to.

The Outsider sucked in a sharp breath at your words, hands shaking where they gripped the back of your blouse. You could teach him too, could help him remember what empathy felt like underneath the howling Void.

The cold has numbed you, but it doesn’t have to be that way. 

“I...I could return V to you…” The Outsider whispered, staring over your head into the empty abyss as the wind continued to howl for everything you had lost, “That man, he...he hurt you, broke--You. I almost lost my only child, the only gift this wretched place allowed me.”

In a way, the deity was a child too, not understanding his own emotion and lashing out in kind. All this nonsense had been born in how much he cared for you, so much that the idea of losing you scared him into cruelty. It wasn’t right, he hurt you and the people close to you in the process. It couldn’t continue like this anymore, not on the path of revenge and tragedy. 

You let out a soft breath, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to push back the tears. Your pain wasn’t helping him see clearly, nor was it aiding you in any way. It had to end, this ceaseless cycle—The Outsider needed to understand that you could handle this, that you could grow and stand on your own feet while carrying the weight of these memories around on your shoulders. 

“I know what that feels like,” You whimpered, breaths attempting to slow but still hitching with each swallowed sob. That fear he felt, the panic...you felt that all and more, “Please, father...don’t make me lose my child again.”

You felt him suck in a shuddering breath, eyes a glassy black as they stared over your shoulder into the abyss. In all the time you knew the Outsider, he had never shown emotion like this. Muscles locked to the point of shaking lightly with strain, air pressed through his nostrils like he was afraid opening his mouth would release an unwilling scream of denial. Because you knew deep down, knew he could understand your desire to keep these memories. Seeing you lose Nero had to hurt him too, bringing on the unwilling fear of experiencing the same thing once you almost slipped away. He had tried the only way he knew how, and now…that fear was caging you in, born of desperation and panic that kept the entire ocean at bay in the hopes of saving you from drowning. But he could never stop it from trickling through, not for long.

You delicately ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the wind send the short locks tossing back and forth. He felt so...human, real and solid. You were willing to bet he wasn’t always the God of this place, that his vulnerability and immaturity had roots in something deeply human. He froze sharply at the contact, hands squeezing the fabric of your blouse so tightly you wondered if it had started tearing.

“If I could take you away from this place, I…” You whispered, eyes closing softly as your body battled exhaustion, “The Void has made you cold, father. I just...I cannot let these feelings go.”

You leaned back just enough to stare at the Outsider’s face, obsidian meeting obsidian and reading each other’s faces. His eyes were wide with unrestrained desperation and sorrow, echoing so many years spent in this miserable place without the sun. You placed both hands gingerly on his cheeks, thumbs stroking along his high cheekbones as if waiting for tears to be shed.

“Father,” You whispered, voice aching with so many things better left unsaid as you stared at him steady and imploring, “Ignorance won’t protect us anymore.”

You hear Vergil suck in a breath at that, air dragged through teeth clenched so hard they might crack. The Outsider’s reaction was no different, those obsidian eyes wide and face a blank mask of shock and regret that showed no signs of fading. You knew what he was thinking, knew that desperate horror of watching you come so close to shattering, to becoming one with that deep, endless abyss. He was not used to fear, he was not used to being afraid. And that was something you could understand, something you wished so terribly to ease in any way you could. But this pain was so necessary, the deepest ache in your chest that gripped with icy fingers and refused to let go--shattering or not, painful or not...the memories were yours, and you wanted to keep them. You owed this to yourself, to Vergil, and especially to Nero. There were so many things you wanted to say to your son, and those things needed to happen above all else. 

There was a pause of silence between you all while the Outsider froze in place, seeming lost in thought as his endless gaze seemed to bore into your own. The only thing that broke the tense air was the howling winds from all around, even the moaning chorus of suffering voices seeming to quiet as they waited for the Outsider’s choice. If he decided against you, there would be a fight that could not be won, a fight that would more than likely end with you shattering from the stress already on your body. That was a risk the Outsider couldn’t afford to take, even with all the powers he held over you. The deep burn of foresight, icy veins of the Void’s magic as it traveled through your body--every breath was given to you by this ancient being, every bit of life you now carried each and every day. Without him, you would have never met Vergil, and for that you would always be grateful. 

The Outsider did not move for a very long time, only leaning back after his black eyes finally blinked at you. His hands slowly lowered from your form, falling back limply to his sides as he looked away, something akin to regret flashing across his face.  Exhaustion and acceptance followed like close companions, his eyes so very tired as the man rose to his feet, leaving you kneeling on the floor before him with a pleading expression on your face. For a moment, he could only stare down at you with more sorrow than one creature should carry, the chilled winds of the Void making his hair blow wildly in several directions. He looked more ancient than ever, the years spent in this wretched place more than showing on a face that was far too young to look so lost. The Outsider stared at you as if prepared to lose you forever, and that was the moment you realized he had finally made his choice.

“...I only wanted to keep you safe,” He spoke so softly, tone feather-light and echoing through the space as if he had screamed it out to the chorus of the Void. He rested one shaking hand upon your hair, eyes closing as his voice became ragged and somehow even softer, “I did not wish...to see you end.”

You nodded once, fresh tears dripping from your black eyes and onto the debris underneath you. The pain of his betrayal, every place you had traveled to, the lost memories and empty dreams...He didn’t know what else to do to keep you from shattering, fueled by desperation and that cruelty he knew so well. You didn’t want to hold onto it any more, these deep feelings of anger and regret that threatened so strongly to overtake you. They were nothing more than a burden now, and inexcusable weight that clung to your shoulders with sharp, unyielding claws. They had been your companions for far too long, and now...now they needed to leave.

You gripped the Outsider’s wrist tenderly with both hands, turning his palm over so you could press a kiss to it. He sucked in a sharp breath at the action, listening quietly as you replied in that hoarse, ragged tone, “I know...and I will be safe...I will,” Your black eyes raised, the color finally slipping back into your normal tone, the whites returning and glistening with tears, “Let me remember the people I love.”

You could see the lingering hesitation even as the Outsider pulled his hand away, eyes downcast and body stepping back toward the precipice. His gaze lingered for a moment on the form of Vergil, seeing the way he looked at you in absolute agony, the tears slipping down the sharp line of his jaw and the shattered expression in his eyes. There was remaining resentment there in those obsidian orbs, but he clenched his jaw and said nothing to the Son of Sparda. If you had to guess, the Deity knew that the only words that could get through the half-breed’s thick skull would have to be yours, and he wasn’t about to interfere with that again. So he paused only to look back at you again, face slipping back into his usual, neutral expression before you watched him disappear into a cloud of obsidian crystal shards without another word. You could understand that he needed time again, needed to process everything before addressing it again. 

He didn’t take away the gifts he had given you, at the very least. But the burn of Foresight was now gone, leaving only the familiar chill of the Void as it seeped through your limbs. For a minute you could only wheeze, trying to get the chaotic storm of emotions in check and feeling Vergil’s gaze linger on you with its familiar intensity. There were so many things between you now since the trials, since you attacked him in the Qliphoth. Those memories from Fortuna, of your first love and traveling together around the city--they mingled with every terrible, unspeakable event that took place after, all the terror and suffering that threatened to cloud out all the wonderful things. At the forefront was the guilt, the aching regret about what happened to Nero, of leaving him on the orphanage steps. It tore you up inside like razor blades, so very painful and absolutely unyielding. 

You slowly rose to your feet, turning towards the Son of Sparda with small steps and watching as his gaze lowered toward the ground. He didn’t dare look up at you as you approached, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths and hands shaking at his side. Vergil had never looked this way to you before, so lost and filled with absolute emotion. It reminded you of how V had acted in the Qliphoth tree, the desperate pleas and the guilty torment of knowing that he would have to leave you at the end of his mission. God, you were so grateful for getting a chance to know that side of him, to love his human half in its entirety before it eventually returned. Those moments were so precious, to witness the vulnerable things he tucked away behind all that anger and pride...All Vergil had wanted was someone to save him, to be loved and cherished like any other person wanted too. And you had more than enough love to give, leaving no room for anger or grudges left behind from past mistakes.

When he spoke, his voice came out low and hoarse, its tone and cadence barely managing to whisper over the Void’s howl, “Why...Why did you choose to remember? He...He could have made you happy, could have given you back the man who knew how to cherish you. But you...you…”

You ignored the question, sliding both hands through his slicked back, white hair and lingering there for a few moments while he breathed faster. Tension was there in his trembling shoulders, in the way those icy blue eyes stared down at the ground and refused to look away. You could feel it now, those walls he kept up for so long bending under the weight of regret, of truth and long desired affections. What point was there in fighting things now? At the end of the day he could no longer hide what he wanted anymore, could no longer hide behind the shield of indifference or spite. All that could possibly remain now was guilt and regret, of self loathing that had seeded itself deep inside since the moment his mother had died. Vergil had so many reasons to hate himself, for things that weren’t even his fault, and for things that didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was leaving those mistakes behind, remembering the good things and striving to do better.

He had that ability inside of him, you knew he did. The ability to change, to atone for his sins. 

“Why?” Vergil continued to ask, breathing growing more and more ragged as you lowered yourself in front of his hunched form, both hands cupping his chilled cheeks and forcing his tormented gaze to rise up to meet you. There was agony in its depths, denial and confusion that made your heart ache so terribly, “All I’ve ever done is hurt you…! I...hurt everyone, took from everyone--V could have given you everything you wanted, without the things that make me who I am.”

You rested your forehead against his, tears forming on your lashes like dew drops and dripping in crystalline droplets onto his thighs. You could feel it when his breath hitched again, sounding like he tried so hard not to cry.

“...We don’t have to hurt anymore,” You whispered, voice soft and just as ragged as his own. Both hands rested on his chest, smoothing over the lines of his vest and feeling his heart race through the fabric, “That man who made me so happy is a part of you, Vergil...It was that same part of you that brought me so much happiness in Fortuna, that you buried under the fear of vulnerability. You made mistakes, we both did...All I want now is to move on from them, to be happy with you, with Nero--we owe that to him after all he’s endured.”

You felt his jaw clench at the mention of Nero, knowing exactly what went through his head. Your child, shivering in the cold and wailing for parents who were both gone, a little boy growing up thinking that he had no family, that they  abandoned him without a second thought--then as an adult, having his arm ripped off by the man he learns to be his father, left bleeding on the garage floor in pain. Years and years of not knowing, of aching to learn who his family was, then one strolls in and literally takes a whole limb. The agony that must have caused, and now...now there was still more to learn, the truth hovering so close and the boy didn’t even know it. All those things had been mistakes, yes, but it was Vergil who had to own up to them, who had to learn and try to do better. And that had to be the hardest part, to learn from one’s mistakes and not sink into the pit of self-loathing to cope. 

You let out a slow breath, trying to gather your words through the storm of guilt and emotions that still carried from the regained memories. Each breath felt like ice, words coming out hoarse yet firm as you told the son of Sparda, “You...You have to let those things go, Vergil, you have to talk to your son...Please...please. Please don’t leave us again, learn from what has happened and do better.”

We both can do better. For all of us.

You heard him swallow audibly, hands clenched into fists at his side as Vergil fought every ounce of instinct he had built up over the years. To hide his emotions away, to swallow them down and feel nothing but resentment and anger like it would somehow protect him. Self loathing was at its core, the final wall of his defenses once everything was gone. At the end of the day you knew that Vergil needed to learn how to be happy, to live with the things he had done and make reparations for them as best he could. Protecting others, doing things for the sake of good and not greed...those parts of him were real and tangible, you had held them in your arms once, kissed them with tender lips. They had been true and filled with so much emotion, and they wouldn’t just go away at a swipe of the Yamato.

Vergil finally looked up to meet your gaze, the faintest hint of tears clinging to his grey lashes as you swiped them away with your thumb. It was still so odd to see so much emotion on his face, torment obvious and out in the open.

“...How can you still love me after all of that?” He whispered incredulously at the look you wore, one of deep adoring and exhaustion as you continued to cup his cheeks, “I...I don’t understand. I don’t deserve it.”

His words made your heart ache terribly, thudding away in your chest like a caged bird trying to be free. Vergil’s was pounding too, closer to hard fists on steel walls of a person trying so desperately to escape a deep agony.  

You stared into his eyes as steadily as you could, voice coming out soft and reassuring as you explained, “Because love isn’t about deserving it or not, it’s about feeling emotion... and acknowledging it without running away,” You reached down, threading your fingers with the trembling digits of his own and giving a light squeeze, “Vergil Sparda is meant to be mine, and I don’t want anything else but that...I want to be with the one I was made for, and...that person is you.”

You broke me, and I broke you...I think we’re done breaking each other, aren’t we?

All that was left was to pick up the pieces.

You were shocked when Vergil’s arms pulled you against him hard, wrapped around your waist and squeezing as he buried his face against your shoulder. You could feel his ever breath, hear it rattle and shake with rasping sobs that had ached so desperately to be free this whole time. God, it felt good to finally be held by him again, every precious memory returned and emotions so very raw. You could feel them now, everything he had bottled up inside pouring out like water from a shattered glass. How it must have felt to finally acknowledge so many years of repressed emotion, to embrace someone without the heavy shackles of pride or hesitation. You embraced him back with accepting arms, eyes squeezing shut at the relief that came with being with the one you loved again. Whole and complete, just as tender as when he was V yet somehow more bittersweet. 

This was everything you had craved without even knowing it. 

You pressed kiss after kiss to his neck and shoulder, breaths slowing and the hollow ache in your heart finally fading at his touch. He was so strong, body holding fast against yours and the lines of it so very familiar. The storm inside was familiar too, you an anchor for the son of Sparda when he needed it most. 

“...I…” Vergil whispered after some time, voice low and hesitant as he swallowed back some of his emotion. You could feel his arms squeeze tighter, face pressed to your neck as he admitted, “I...I love you...Even back then, when I left, you...I thought about you the entire time I was on the ferry, yet I just...just…”

Forgot. That was the Outsider’s doing, wiping Vergil’s memory so that when you returned he could be punished without any complications. You let out a soft breath, leaning back to touch your forehead to his once again just as the portal started forming underneath you--crystalline hands curled upwards, gently wrapping around your forms as the Void’s hollow wailing grew louder and louder. As if saying goodbye, crying out in mourning for something that it felt like it was losing. Even if he wasn’t visible, you could feel the Outsider watching you both, his trepidation like a tangible force that filled the empty skies of the Void like thick, hovering storm clouds. He was afraid for you, he was lonely and alone. But you would not be leaving for good--even with the dark memories it carried, the empty blackness was a part of you, and so was the black-eyed God who resided there. You would return again someday, after having a chance to heal.

“I know,” You whispered to Vergil, feeling the Void’s howl ringing sharply in your ears as it started to fall away, “It’s over now, that pain is over. Let’s go home, and see our son.”

~~~

~Four Months Later~

You could tell it was still in the early hours of the morning, the sun barely peeking through the curtains of your bedroom in orange, pink colored hues. Warm--everything felt warm now, safe and comforting as you had sought for so long. More than anything, things felt correct, like every missing piece of your puzzle had finally fallen into place. Absolute in its entirety, perfected in its security. The way light air billowed through the windows, making curtains drift in a slow dance of dark blue fabric in the direction of your bed--Vergil’s arm wrapped around your form, his steady heartbeat under your ear and the warmth he shared with your body. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt peace like this, a rightness that seemed to fill up your form like honeyed milk and bringing with it a sleepy peacefulness that made it incredibly difficult to rise for the day. Then again, you were a better morning person than the son of Sparda, who would no doubt awaken surly and annoyed as he usually did.

So many things had happened in the past few months since you returned from the Void, so many things and so many emotions to work through. You had fallen onto the sand with Vergil by your side, Nero and the others rushing out to meet you in relief and worry at the way you both looked--even more so when you collapsed upon the white haired boy and sobbed, refusing to let go as apology after apology had burst from your lips. Eventually Vergil was able to coax you into letting go, and then...well, you had to tell Nero everything. Every regained memory, every terrible tragedy and all the things you so desperately wanted to say sorry for. He had to know how much he was loved, that you so terribly wanted to stay with him but circumstances never allowed. He listened to it all in wide eyed shock, but you had the feeling that he could sense for a long time that there was something that tied you both together, something neither of you could understand until now.

You were telling the truth, and he couldn’t very well deny that. His best friend had been his mother all along, and that was a lot to take in. He was struggling with the knowledge, but not as much as the fact that he wasn’t abandoned for being a half demon, that his mother went through so much terrible tragedy and died on the steps of Fortuna’s orphanage. All those years of searching and filling himself with questions and resentment, all of it for nothing. His mother had come back eventually, and that whole time he thought himself the older one, like he was meant to protect her like a little sister. Things had become such a mess, weaved together in chaotic knots that took a solid hour to weave with Kyrie there to support Nero while he absorbed it all. You were shocked to see that this info was somehow a relief to him, and even more so when he embraced you like a mother as if it was somehow the easiest thing in the world...like he had wanted nothing more. 

Mind you, Nico was in absolute shock about all of this--she kept staring in slack jawed awed at you and Vergil, unable to wrap her head around any of it. You, one of her closest friends, had given birth to a punk like Nero? How the hell was such a thing supposed to make sense?

Naturally, the very next thing Nero did was punch Vergil square in the jaw.

Both you and Dante had to hold the hot-tempered devil hunter back as he shouted curses at his father, railing into him for everything he had done to you and all the pain he caused. All his childhood questioning, all the pain--if Vergil hadn’t been such a dick so much suffering could have been avoided. You protested in between that things were fine, that it was in the past, but the son of Sparda didn’t say a word, didn’t fight back for once. Her merely sat on the ground where he had landed after the blow, rubbing his jaw with one hand and staring blankly at the ground. He was trying so hard, you could tell--sorrow lingered in the depths of his icy blue eyes, mingling with self-loathing as Nero reiterated back all the terrible things he had done and what a terrible person it made him. You wanted to stop him, but...Nero deserved to speak his mind, and Vergil had reparations to make.

After some firm discussions on the matter, you and Vergil agreed that it would be best to stay at Devil May Cry while things settled down, to find an outlet for the son of Sparda that would actually let him help people. Kyrie and Nico were both disappointed that you’d be moving, as were the children, but...right now was a sensitive time for Vergil, one where you were too nervous to let him be around things that would only make him feel worse. Until his head was sorted out, Fortuna was too much of a terrible memory for you both to literally live in the location of, and staying at Devil May Cry would be for the best until that was sorted out.

Regardless, the next few months passed somewhat peacefully. You and Vergil joined Devil May Cry, and set about fixing Redgrave City and rescuing any survivors still trapped inside. There were buildings to be fixed, roads that needed repairing, and broken families that needed to come back together. You knew this would be hard on Vergil too, but it was absolutely necessary that he try to make up for all the terrible things he had done. Every life taken in his pursuit of power would weigh on him for a while, and that wasn’t going to change any time soon, but...this did help. It was a while before the son of Sparda wasn’t listless anymore, that you could get more emotion from him that wasn’t guilt or regret. Mind you, Dante being irritating did help with that, but even he was worried the first few months when he would taunt Vergil and get nothing but sadness from his brother.

The surly man had been through too much trauma, seen too much. Having you by his side was his only anchor for a long time.

Which led back to present day, you wrapping a leg around his waist and letting out a heavy sigh of impatience when Vergil still slept soundly. You would think that someone like him, all pride and silly rules, would be much better about getting up in the morning. Instead, he was somehow worse than Dante, all annoyed grunts and exhausted stares as he dragged himself downstairs for a cup of coffee or tea. At least Dante would come down sleepy but cheerful, usually around noon or one o'clock in search of day old pizza. You knew trying to wake the son of Sparda up would not be an easy task, but you knew that there would be missions today that needed preparations--Nero and Nico would be joining you, after all, and there was nothing more exciting than the idea of spending time with your son.

You hummed softly, slowly rising from where you lay against his side and sitting up on Vergil’s lap with mischief in your gaze. It was surprising--he had taken months to get used to sleeping next to you without jolting awake in defensive positions, and even longer to get used to you touching him. So the fact that you could now settle your entire weight on his waist and place your hands on his chest was a pleasant show of how far he had come. Christ, he was such a beautiful man--those grey lashes were resting against his cheeks, face peaceful and calm in rest with messy hair and kissable lips. You could have stared at the hard line of his jaw for hours, wanting nothing more than to nibble it with your teeth and smooch for hours on end. Such a hard urge to resist, especially considering that he definitely should have been awake right now to start getting ready.

He stirred a little bit when you leaned forward, kissing a slow line from his shoulders and neck to that jaw you had been admiring so much. He was so very warm, and hard by the feeling of him pressing against your ass. It would be fairly hard to stay asleep with you rubbing on him like that, worshiping his chest with your mouth and hands while he stirred just a little bit more. There was no denying that low, rumbling hum of sound that came from his chest, peaceful expression shifting into something far grumpier as he stretched out under your hips. Reminiscent of a mighty panther waking with a low growl, eyes still not opening even as you leaned your face against his neck and gently bit where a vein pulsed steadily under the skin. 

You weren’t surprised by the low rumble of his voice under your ear, sounding incredibly tired and slightly grumpy as he groused, “I thought you agreed only to awaken me early for emergencies, brat.”

There had been some sort of agreement--but you were a little too distracted to remember it, tongue sliding up his warmed skin with a soft purr of, “But it is an emergency, my heart...I’ll simply perish without your help.”

You were being a bit cheeky this morning, feeling a surge of mischief and glee when his hips couldn’t help but shift slightly underneath yours. That pressure had to be a bit constricting on his cock right about now, but you weren’t getting much of a reaction out of him yet--he never did fall for your dramatic claims.

“Oh?” Vergil murmured, eyes still not opening as you bit down on his left earlobe, heartbeat quickening in your chest as he continued on, “Will you now? You certainly have a lot of energy for someone close to perishing.”

That last word turned into a bit of a grunt when you purposely rubbed yourself against his cock, feeling its hard length shift and squeeze between your bodies. To be honest, this was probably doing you in more than him, that firm pressure on your clit making you moan breathily and lean against his form like a cat in heat. Your panties did nothing to sully the friction, arousal making its home in your abdomen and pooling warmth down into your core like melting honey. Vergil was certainly able to catch your mood, letting out an amused rumble of sound when you breathed heavily against his neck, rutting against his cock again with absolutely no shame. Honestly, a past version of you might have been embarrassed to act like this, especially with someone as prideful as the Son of Sparda. But you well enough by this point that he wasn’t phased by your unabashed desire--rather he enjoyed when you gave him this kind of attention, like it stroked his ego.

It definitely did. 

“Vergil…” You whined, wrapping both arms around his neck and pressing your entire body against his when he purposely tilted his head to the side as if feigning sleep, “Don’t be mean--I let you sleep longer today that I did yesterday.”

He chuckled lightly at that, finally cracking one eye open to stare at you in his typical, superior sort of way. Honestly, you were a bit dazed for a moment at how handsome he was, white hair a tousled mess on his pillow and lips curving into a bemused little smirk at the desperate expression on your face. Vergil had a special way of looking absolutely, arrogantly smug, especially when he knew how badly you wanted it. But he was also weak to your pleading, and even more so with you all over him and looking so very tempting in just a tank top and some panties--he’d be a foolish man to refuse you in even the most dire situations, although he had to get his fun in somewhere.

The half-demon clicked his tongue, head tilting back and eyes closing again as he replied to you in a purposely sleepy tone, “Maybe you should ask me nicely, doll, and I’ll think about indulging you.”

You bit your lip, knowing full well he wasn’t about to walk around aroused for the better part of the morning, especially not with work to do and especially not while meeting with your son. But it would be silly of you to call him on that bluff, especially since he was prideful enough to prove you wrong just for the hell of it. And quite frankly, you’d lose out far more than him with such a foolish game.

A sigh left your lips, body falling limply against his in a show of defeat, “...Please?” You murmured softly, chin resting on his chest as you stared at him imploringly, “Please, Vergil?” 

His smirk widened at that, showing his pearly white teeth in accompaniment with his equally smug reply, “You could always try calling me ‘sir’ just to sweeten it a bit, brat.”

“Now you’re just pushing it.”

It warmed you thoroughly when your huffed reply made the half-breed laugh, the sound sleepy and smooth as he finally yielded and wrapped both arms around your form. It felt so good to be held by him, your body made to fit against the hard lines of his own. the sensation only grew deeper when he rolled over to press you into the bed, mouth catching your lips in a deep kiss and hands holding him up on either side of your head. Whatever grumpiness that plagued him upon waking faded away with your tongue stroking over his, breaths mingly and hips pressed against each other in a slow grind. You’d be hard pressed to miss his desire now, especially with him rutting it against your wet heat in those slow, deep presses that made your breath catch in desperation. Christ, you were needy--and he absolutely adored that about you, wanted to indulge every chance he got, even if it meant teasing you a bit first.

You were panting when his mouth slipped to your jaw, a growl in his throat while he kissed a line down to your chest and lingered there for a moment. You practically trembled when one hand tugged up your tank top, those kissable lips latching onto one nipple and making your hips rise at the slow, purposeful suction he gave. Christ, his tongue...he was merciless this morning, absolutely ruthless. The half breed swirled the wet appendage over the sensitive bud in his mouth, making you whimper and fist his hair with both hands. So sensitive in the morning, becoming a writhing mess under his ministrations in a matter of seconds. He let out a satisfied hum, blue eyes looking up at you from under his lashes as he released your breast with a hollow pop, moving onto the next.

You were already drenched by that point, anymore foreplay absolutely not needed, but that wasn’t stopping Vergil. He would willingly draw this out hours if you had it, bringing you to the edge of orgasm over and over again without satisfaction, until you were sobbing with need. And then he would be the opposite other days, literally making you come over and over until you were begging to stop, until the overstimulation was too much. Unfortunately, today offered very little time with all the plans in mind, so he could only get his fun in short intervals. Honestly, you could have taken two of him with how aroused just the morning wanting had made you, and that was plainly obvious when the half-breed tugged your panties down your legs, tossing them to somewhere in your room.

You practically sobbed with need as he plunged his fingers into your sheath, the slide easy and wet as he tested your resistance, finding absolutely none. Your toes curled into the bed sheets, head tilted back as he kissed along your neck and jaw with those fingers working below. Curling inside, searching for any sweet points and making slick, lewd sounds with every thrust. You could only squirm, at his mercy and trembling with a building orgasm in your lower half. God, why were you always so sensitive? He had just barely started and you felt already inches away from coming on his fingers, hips rising to meet him as a desperate moan left your parted lips. No wonder he could overstimulate you so god damn easily--without edging you would just orgasm easily without much work at all.

“Ahhh...ahhh...g-god, please--” You whimpered against his neck, hips rolling against his hand as you squeezed your eyes shut, “Vergil...Vergil I’m so--”

“Already?” The son of Sparda murmured, stilling his fingers and chuckling at that half-choked sound of desperation you made in response, “I thought you were made of sterner stuff than that, doll.”

You weren’t really in the mood to be prideful today, his teasing barely registering with you as the feeling of that orgasm started to dull. It was so very disappointing when his digits left your throbbing insides, a trail of slick following them as proof of your arousal. That might have been a bit embarrassing if you had any shame left, but that wasn’t really the case after everything you had been through with this man. The son of Sparda seemed pleased, icy blue eyes lingering on his fingers before drawing them into his mouth, tasting your essence as he leaned back to gaze over your form with a hint of adoration in their depths. The way Vergil looked at you, lingering on each scar and left over wound from battles past...it made you heart only ache more, body desperate for his affections and warming further as you stared back with a pleading expression of your own.

 Luckily enough for you, Vergil seemed to be far more merciful today, placing both hands on your thighs and pushing them back and apart. You bit your lip, knees up to your chest and held there right where your legs bent with his strong hands. So exposed, spread nicely for him and ready to be taken. The half-breed gave you a look that told you not to move your limbs in the slightest, letting go so he could pull down the thin, cotton dress pants hiding his length from your eyes. You could have moaned when the hard appendage slipped free, precum already beading on the tip smeared away by his thumb and looking so damn perfect for you and you alone. God, he was beautiful everywhere, cock lengthy enough to press deep inside and thick enough to spread you without hurting too much. And with how aroused you were, it would be absolutely painless, your body practically aching to suck him inside and feel each stroke along your inner walls. 

Vergil didn’t seem keen on waiting any longer either, pressing the tip against your folds and sucking in a breath as he stroked over your clit for a few seconds, just savoring the wet warmth. You were trembling, toes curling with anticipation and heart pounding quickly in your chest when he finally pressed it against your throbbing entrance, Vergil gritting his teeth at the way your body molded around his length. A perfect fit, his cock slipping easily inside and buried deep in a matter of seconds. Your eyes rolled back a bit in your skull at the feeling of his tip brushing your cervix, filling you up entirely and leaving not a single inch that wasn’t being touch by him. You had no doubt that he could feel your every breath, every shift of muscle as you fought the urge to rut against him as the desperation grew higher.

“G-god, please…” You whimpered, shuddering when he leaned over your form and pressed both hands to your legs again to press them back. The movement shifted his cock inside, burying it just a bit deeper and making you gulp in a quick breath of air, “F-fuck...fuck…”

“So crass, my doll,” Vergil hissed, voice breathless as he leaned down to nip at your neck again, “You’re absolutely drenched...you must have really worked yourself up this morning.”

That was certainly an understatement. When he slid his cock out of your throbbing sheath it was a wet slide, plunging back in with a wet sound that seemed overly loud in the quiet of your bedroom. A choked whimper left your lips at the pace he began to set, wasting no time in being gentle with you with how obviously you wanted it. Your hands blindly reached for him in the mess of sensations scattering your thoughts, one wrapped around his neck and the other burying itself in his hair as your lips pressed hard together in the next instant. Vergil always kissed you the same way when you made love, like he was starving and you were the first meal he was allowed in so many years. You could only hang on as his cock plunged in and out below, roughly pressing your hips into the bed as each breath mingled desperately between your molding lips and tongues. Desperate, mindless, both seeking pleasure from each other as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

And it was. Vergil felt like home, felt correct in the best way possible. Body to body, legs wrapping around his waist now as he fucked you into the mattress--one hand cupped your warming cheeks, the other bracing himself upwards so he didn’t crush you with his weight. Each soft sound of pleasure that came from his lips was like music, panting gasps or subdued moans that strained with each thrust into your sheath. You loved looking at his face, seeing him come undone with pleasure and lose all composure as he shared his body with you, became vulnerable with you.

You were so close now, his hips grinding against your clit with each thrust. It was quite the sensation, feeling his  cock bumping your cervix every time he buried himself deep inside and feeling so very filled to the brim. The growing orgasm was coming much faster than you thought it would, your body still just as sensitive and absolutely trembling as it pushed for that pleasure like your life depended on it. Christ, how would you be able to work after this? He was so easily making a mess out of you, and something about that was absolutely tantalizing. Not that he was any better--you could already tell he was getting close too, the son of Sparda burying his face against your neck and body tense as he ground himself inside of you with a desperation that was starting to match your own.

“Y/N...fuck…” He hissed, voice low and breathless as he pressed his mouth to your skin, words slightly muffled as he moaned, “You feel so good, I can’t--fuck--”

You couldn’t even form a reply other than a wordless moan of your own, head tilted back and eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm started to crest. It throbbed through your insides, hips jolting upwards as a half sobbed cry of release left your lips and your body clenched around him like a vise. The half-breed grit his teeth, the tightening around his cock sending him to his own peak shortly after. His hips stuttered in their thrusts, a hoarse groan muffled against your skin as he buried himself deep to fill you up with his load. You could have melted at the feeling of him spilling inside, body going limp with satisfaction and toes curling into the mattress as you rode out the storm of pleasant sensations. Warm, thick, and so very deep--making love to him felt so perfect, and getting to have him again and again was more than you ever thought you’d be allowed. Bad memories, pain, suffering...they couldn’t have been further from you both at that moment, quietly coming down from your orgasms in the safety of your bedroom.

You don’t know how much time passed with you there, Vergil’s body pressed to your own but careful not to crush you with his weight. The throb of pleasure was quieting now into a warm glow, limbs limp and body deliciously spent as you let out a soft, contented sigh. An ideal way to spend your day involved staying like this with him for hours, maybe longer, and getting to enjoy each other as much as you wanted. That wasn’t likely today, but it still felt nice to lie there for a few moments, sharing warmth and listening to both heartbeats slow to something far more tame. Your fingers idly traced patterns on his relaxing back muscles, your other hand in his hair and gently stroking the slightly damp locks out of his face. You could feel him melt under your touch, breathing evening out considerably and eyes closing as he savored the comfort of your affections for just a bit longer.

He never wanted to stop feeling them. And neither did you.

You expected him to pull back as he always did, to kiss you on the lips and remark upon how you should probably start getting ready. Instead, you were surprised when he let out a soft breath, tone low and uncharacteristically gentle as he wrapped both arms around your spent form.

“I love you,” He murmured, stroking one hand up into your hair and pressing a tender kiss to your jaw, “Thank you...for loving me, for...choosing me.”

Your breath caught at his words, that familiar pang of emotions squeezing your heart as you recognized the vulnerability and hesitation in his tone. Even after four months, you could feel how each past mistake weighed upon the son of Sparda, making him feel undeserving of you, undeserving of anything. No doubt Nero’s constant reminders weren’t helping with that, nor did the Outsider’s trials all that time ago. You wished that there was more that could be done to ease his pain, but knew that the only way that he could change for the better was to embrace the mistakes and do better in the future. He was, after all, half human.

So you wrapped both arms around his neck, heart beating faster in your chest as you pressed your face to his silvery-white hair and smiled softly, voice absolutely truthful in your reply to the son of Sparda.

“I love you too--and I will always choose you.”

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#devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #ebony and ivory #v x reader #vergil x reader #bonus chapter #fanfic #dmc5

[dmcofficial]

i really love how dmc approaches the relationship between human and demonic selves, especially in the light of it acting as contrast to how regular, average people struggle to accept parts themselves, the beautiful, the ugly, the parts that are both. dante has the most development simply bc he's the longest running protag of the series but also he's had games entirely dedicated low-key to his developing relationship and eventual acceptance of his human and demonic sides, even tho i think his are more clear cut (dmc1 & dmc3) meanwhile nero (dmc4 & dmc5) and vergil (dmc5) have more subtle and almost cramped development in a way

[ranting abt dante, vergil, & nero's character development throughout the franchise under the cut bc this also got rlly long,,,]

dante is interesting post dmc3 just bc he's both written 2 b a continuous character w no real conclusion to his character in order to continually write him into dmc games and content, BUT he still reaches SOME conclusions to character arcs in dmc1 and dmc3, and afterwards we see how those conclusions have aged with him— aged is the important word there, because changes in dante's character are both from the perspective on nero (his villainous aura at the beginning of dmc4) and the simple fact that where a lot of characters don't actively age and mature the same way real people do, in video game media especially, dante DOES and this changes how we would expect him to react in games liek 4 and 5

i think part of the reason the dynamic between vergil and dante has shifted by dmc5 is not only bc of vergils speedrun development in the same game, but also because you could reasonably say that while vergil expects a fight w him similar to their past fights, you could argue he is also a little bit unsettled with how dante's changed in the time theyve been separated. because despite how they tend to mirror each other as children and their journey thru dmc as a franchise can be framed as the same One character put thru different yet similar traumatic events, vergil even remarks about it at the top of the qliphoth, that difference here is that by dmc4 and DEF dmc5 dante has evolved past that where vergil is just beginning to really see it.

dante has had the time to process it. he went thru all this development years ago. it's had time to sit with him and age and ferment. dante is now tired, almost apathetic. he's disinterested with life and the cards he's been dealt with. at least in dmc4 and between dmc1 and 4, the anime too, he was sort of. rueful and upset about it? but he's seemed to move past that at this point. he is a character who has done everything there is to do. there is nothing and nobody who can challenge him, and even the concept doesn't catch his full attention. vergil is a trigger topic, it sets him off instantly, probably because vergil is the only constant in his life that will live as long and is as impossibly stubborn as dante is.

he doesn't chase vergil because he's necessarily hurting people with the dmc5 red grave massacre or trying to end the world in some great fashion and dante will have fun or at least get a thrill from defeating him or dying trying— cutting thru urizens forces are a pain in the ass and a waste of time. he wants the main course. he wants to be done with it. not to say he wouldn't have fun fighting, but he doesn't get the thrill he does when he's younger anymore. he wants to end their feud, seeming to be with the intention of making up with him even if he's come to terms with vergil's pride being what will force dante to kill him in the end

fighting with vergil in the underworld afterwards, having someone like him to keep him company, to share those experiences with, it's everything he needed and more i think. the repairing of their relationship, the new partner in a life none can truly relate to. i mean, both brothers treat nero like a child, he's the closest either of them can get to someone who understands, but nobody will understand truly like they will

vergil meanwhile, decides very young that power is all he needs and it will solve all his problems. and you know, at the time maybe it does. but eventually, when forced to admit it isn't, when put between dante and more power despite it being a hollow motivation, he chooses power and the end of dmc3 to the events of dmc1 happens.

dmc5 is unique in that v is forced to retrace vergils steps. they're put through the same paces: he is put in a position of fear after his 'birth', he chooses life, and then goes hunting for power to keep himself alive afterwards. but not only does he have his familiars to balance him out in a way vergil never had (and that dante has in trish and lady,) but his demonic tendencies can't overwhelm him, he has room to grow and accept and come to realizations he can only reach as a clear headed human. he is able to actively use empathy and sympathy, even against his will. he realizes that power isn't everything. that the atrocities he's committed in the name of his own growth in power are just that, atrocities. that he feels regret for what he has done. that he wants to find away to atone for those actions.

he is forced to accept the strengths and weaknesses of his humanity, but also the same coin's other side, the horrible things he's done in the past, the horrible things his demon self is currently doing unchecked, and v resolves to change that even at the cost of his human outlook, even at the gravity of his actions being leveled against vergil in all their horror. he learns to accept that part of himself, both parts, everything bad he can commit with his two hands, but also with nero, nico, his familiatr, the good that can be done. the weeds that can fight to grow through the cracks.

nero spends dmc4 learning how to be a demon. hes force to learn how to deal with and manage his demonic changes. for a few weeks he has his demon arm, when he previously believed himself to be entirely human, and is then forced to come to terms with his yamato trigger and all the changes that brings. he even promises to himself, having grown up on a hyper religious island that loathes demonkind and reveres sparda, that even if humanity learns to hate him and fear him, he will still stick to his steadfast morals, his drive to achieve his goal of saving kyrie and greater fortuna. i also think a lot of dmc4 is nero becoming comfortable with his true nature. he comes into himself in dmc4 as a mouthy, demonic-warped demon hunter with a bad attitude in contrast to the bored, slightly tempered teen who broods in church even as kyrie attempts to wrangle him at the beginning of the game

dmc5 i think is nero's human game in the sense that he's forced to relearn how to be human. he spends five+ years as a demonic freak of nature, powerful on an island of human people with no demonic power. he's downright untouchable. after losing his bringer and his powers, he's forced back to square one, human again. i think dante believes nero is deadweight in the sense that nero is weak again, without any kind of demonic power and will get himself killed easily fighting urizen despite his hybrid resilience that still lingers. nero is angered by this— by his weakness, by the fact that he promised dante to keep the yamato safe and had it stolen from him, by his lack of agency. dante wasn't even going to tell nero, v, some random-ass goth, had to fetch him. he feels he isn't enough anymore, and dante's words are poorly timed— they sting particularly hard i think, considering he is nero's only unofficial family at the time, and family is his soft spot.

i also think nero coming to terms with vergil and dante being his father and uncle respectively takes up a lot of this arc of his– he is forced to grapple with what family means to him, what he is willing to do for family, when his only relationship with family has been his experiences as an orphan with strange white hair and a bad attitude in fortuna of all places, fostered by kyries parents who seemed to only take a liking to him at first for how much he resembled the Savior™. kyrie and credo were his only family after they died, and it's kyrie who reminds him of his own beliefs, in his own love and stubborn, headstrong dedication and determination for the well being of his found family, even as that found family suddenly includes actual blood family. he also has to try and understand dante and his perspective, who hid this from him. maybe out of fear of disappointing him, maybe out of concern of how he would take it, maybe because he thought nero was better off with the family he found than with the knowledge of how much bloody weight he carries, the heavy history of their family, didn't want to give that weight to him.

nero sort of learns here that seemingly good people do bad things for the right reasons. sometimes bad people do bad things because they think it's the best of the shitty choices. sometimes bad and good people just don't exist, and there's no good choice. he learns unwavering forgiveness, unconditional and true. all of these lessons he's lost between dmc4 and 5

#OR MAYBE IM TALKIN OUT MY ASS IDK IM JUST GOING BRAINDEAD ABT DMC LATELY #dmc #devil may cry #dante #vergil #nero #ryan speaks #ryan writes #this is for mikey and mikey only

[trashassassin]

Two Halves of a Whole | 6: Impressions and Honesty (Vergil x Reader)

LORDT. The original prompt that inspired this one was “hairbrush spankings” and the idea got completely away from me, but in a good way, I’d reckon. I swear to god I didn’t mean to make it this long, and yet, here we all are.

In this installment, you and Vergil finally begin to reconcile after the mysterious happenings that have yet to be named that I’m sure everyone has already figured out by now, with the help of everyone’s favorite beverage: red wine. Or my favorite, anyway.

Extremely heavy on the fluff. Like, this is on par with some of my Leon stuff, if I’m being honest.

Word Count: 4780 (jfc)

Warnings: Mild Language, Suggestive Themes, Sweet and Fluffy as Cotton Candy

At last, the day had come that Vergil would return to your apartment, only this time, not in a dream, as he had the previous time. You'd finally gotten him to sit down with you and have an honest conversation about what happened, in no small part due to Dante's incessant urgings.

You were aware that they had been selfishly motivated. The fact of the matter was, he simply couldn't take the two of you constantly hovering around each other any longer, waiting for the other to speak first. 

You had also found yourself growing fed up with the whole thing, but Dante had you beat in the confrontation department by far, so he had been the first to speak up. And a part of you was glad that he did. But another part was terrified of where it would take you.

You were well aware of the fact that your coffee table had gotten suitably clean quite some time ago, and yet, you continued to rub the cloth over it as though a prize would pop out from its surface, stopping to glance up at the clock every so often.

How surprised you were to find that only another single minute had passed each time.

You'd been attempting to occupy your mind with meaningless tasks to stop it from racing. This would be the first time you would be properly alone with Vergil and this thought scared you, even if you weren't entirely sure why.

Your fear of confrontation definitely had a lot to do with it. Raw, honest conversation was no more a strong suit of yours than it was of his and you were worried that the two of you would spend the entire evening silently staring at the wall.

So, that was it. You were pacing around your apartment in terror, your heart beating out of your chest, because you were afraid of a bit of awkwardness.

Once you'd finally accepted the cleanliness of your furniture, you made a quick run upstairs to deposit the cleaning cloth into the laundry hamper before you forgot, because nothing would make him get fed up with you and go home like a single, out of place washcloth cluttering up your living space.

You rolled your eyes at your thought process, but if you left the cloth out, you knew that it would be the only thing you'd be able to focus on for the entire evening.

As you reached your bedroom, your mind was bombarded with another slew of issues.

Was it inviting enough? It had been a long time since you'd had anyone up there, so making it presentable wasn't at the forefront of your mind anymore. But it was a bit presumptuous of you to act as though he was going to see it, wasn't it? Was it even advisable for the two of you to sleep together at this point?

You suddenly had a great many questions, none of which anyone, least of all yourself, could give you an answer to.

You would have to play this entire thing by ear. There was no guide you could follow, and there was certainly no way you could predict his reactions to anything given the way he'd been behaving thus far.

Still, you decided it couldn't hurt to tidy up your room a bit just in case. You even brought out the scented candles again for the first time in quite a while and lit one before heading back downstairs.

You were reasonably satisfied that everything was in order, though you were sure that you would find something that was out of place after he'd arrived.

You had to stop and consider what your end goal was here. It wasn't as though it were necessary to impress him. If anything, he should be the one scrambling to make a good impression on you.

And yet, even after everything that had happened, all of your worries boiled down to the simple fear that he wouldn't like you anymore. You found him a bit intimidating now, even if it was irrational. For all intents and purposes, he was the same person he had been, but you found yourself questioning more often than you would have liked if you were still worthy of him. He was so powerful and you were so, well, ordinary, and that was a fact about you that would never change.

You did want to impress him; you wanted that very much. But you were also afraid of overdoing it. You didn't want to appear desperate.

You were even considering whether or not preparing a meal would be seen as excessive. Surely, that was the polite thing to do whenever one was expecting guests, so you put your insecurities aside in favor of common sense.

You'd hardly eaten anything all day, given the fact that your nerves had your stomach tied in knots, so this would benefit you as well as him. There wasn't a whole lot that sounded palatable right now, so you would have to decide on a dish that you had the ingredients for and would also be able to force down once it was finished.

You opened the fridge and sighed. How long had it been since you'd gone grocery shopping? Much too long, clearly. Such mundane tasks had fallen by the wayside as of late.

But, you did have a few things left. As you examined the ingredients before you, you came up with a plan. Spaghetti would be good. It was inoffensive, mindless, and not too showy.

You took out everything you would need—a package of ground beef, which you made sure to sniff in case it had gone off, a couple of onions, and some bell peppers—then brought them over to the counter so that you could begin to prepare them.

As you went to close the fridge, you noticed something else that may be of use to you: a bottle of red wine that you'd purchased quite some time ago sitting atop its surface. You'd never been much of a drinker, but you figured that there had never been a more appropriate time than now to break it open.

Perhaps this was a bit shameful, but at this point, you would have done just about anything to take the edge off while you waited. 

You opened the bottle and poured yourself a glass, then got to work. 

Cooking was typically a relaxing activity for you, one of several hobbies that whisked you away from the outside world, if only temporarily, but on this particular evening, it had no such effect. You took a large gulp of your wine and considered your options. 

Perhaps some music would help. You lifted your phone and scrolled through it a bit to find a playlist that would set you more at ease. 

You went with something instrumental before returning your attention back to your chopping.

You took a sideways glance at the clock on the stove once you'd finished with the onion. You still had a good thirty minutes left, and you weren't sure if this should make you feel relieved or concerned. What you did feel, however, was a healthy mix of both. 

At least you wouldn't have to rush through your cooking. 

You were already beginning to feel the effects of the wine once you'd finished chopping all of the vegetables. Your heart had stopped racing, at least, but you were beginning to worry about embarrassing yourself by the time you'd finished the entire glass. 

But, as you thought about it more, you supposed the time for embarrassment was over. The two of you had already been brutally honest with each other and you figured that there wasn't much either of you could say at this point that would drive the other away.

You tried to convince yourself of this as you continued with your cooking.

Is spaghetti too boring? What if he doesn't like it? Does he even need to eat? I've never seen him eat before. Dante definitely seems to like eating. But what if he only does it because he wants to appear more human?

You slammed your utensils down on the counter and took a deep breath, willing yourself to relax. You were going to survive even in the event that he didn't enjoy your spaghetti.

But it wasn't about the spaghetti, and you knew that. You recognized that your choice of what to serve for dinner was much less consequential than, well, everything else, so it was much easier to give that all of your focus as it was something you could easily control. 

You set the ground beef on the stove to brown, then finished off your glass of wine and contemplated getting another. No, you would save that for when he arrived, if he wanted one as well. You didn't want to be the only one drinking, and you certainly didn't want to be the only one drunk.

What would that be like? You had a lot of difficulty imagining a scenario in which Vergil would have the time, let alone the desire, to get drunk and you were very curious as to how such a thing would affect him.

You almost wished you'd asked Dante for advice before going through with this, but realized that you never would have, even when you had the opportunity to do so. You had too much pride for that, which you accepted as one of your weaker points. So much of your current dilemma would be easily solved by speaking up and asking the right questions.

You promised yourself that you would finally start doing this when you saw Vergil tonight.

The dinner preparations were going exactly according to plan and you were relieved that you'd managed to finish everything up with a little over five minutes to spare. You were even more relieved that you'd managed to make it all the way through without going for a second glass of wine.

You'd mixed together a salad while the sauce was cooking and were in the process of setting everything up on the coffee table when you heard a knock at the door.

Your heart leapt into your throat.

"Just a second," you called out.

He'd arrived exactly at your agreed upon time and not a single second before or after, so you were glad that you'd given yourself so much leeway in getting everything prepared.

You finished up the last of these preparations, then took a deep breath and went to answer the door.

You weren't exactly sure what you had been expecting to see on the other side, apart from the obvious, but you were immediately struck by just how ordinary he looked standing there. He was wearing much more average clothes now, his outfit consisting of a black turtleneck sweater and a pair of dark jeans.

So, he hadn't lost his propensity for all black clothing. This amused you, but you tried not to show it.

"Hi," you said, and he simply nodded in response. "Uh, come in."

You motioned him inside and he stepped across the threshold, still not saying a single word, or even taking a moment to acknowledge you.

Yes, the wine had been a good idea after all, it would seem.

"I made dinner, if you're hungry." You stood beside the coffee table and stared down at it. "To be honest, I didn't know if you guys eat, but I didn't want to be rude by not making anything."

You looked up at him and the expression on his face suggested that you'd offended him.

"I didn't mean-" This was going poorly already. "Not that there would be anything wrong with that. I just didn't want to make it weird."

Clearly, you were failing on that front.

He took a seat on the end of the couch and simply said, "Yes, we do eat."

You took the seat beside him and continued to stare at the coffee table as though it would be able to offer you a way out of this.

"I have wine too, if you'd like some," you said.

"Yes, thank you," he replied.

His response relieved you somewhat as it gave you an excuse to finally pour yourself a second glass.

You poured one for each of you and held yours in your hand, while his remained untouched along with his food.

"Look, I'm sorry," you said.

Was he still offended about the food thing? Surely there was some way you could get him to open up.

He finally glanced your way.

"Why are you the one apologizing?" he asked.

"I don't know," you said. "Maybe because you're acting like you don't wanna be here?"

He shook his head.

"I was actually a bit surprised when you agreed to meet me on these terms," he said.

"Well, I didn't even think you wanted to see me again, so that makes two of us."

"No, I wanted that very much."

He lifted the fork from the plate in front of him and began to poke at the noodles upon it. Was he nervous? You found the idea somewhat laughable.

"You could've fooled me," you said, and you regretted it as soon as it left your mouth. "I mean, you have to understand why I feel that way."

"Yes," he said. He continued to stab at his noodles without lifting any of them from their place. "I am aware that I can be a bit difficult."

A bit?

You managed to hold your tongue this time. It would not behoove you to make fun of him; he was trying, and you had to give him credit for that.

"Well, thank you for making it out here," you said. 

"Thank you for having me." 

He set down his fork at last and inched just a bit closer to you, looking as though he wanted to say something else. 

Instead, he returned his attention back to the plate and finally took a bite of the food you'd prepared. You held your breath as you awaited his assessment of it. 

"Did you make this?" he asked. 

"Yeah," you replied. 

"It's good." 

"Thank you." 

You could've cut the tension hanging over your living room with a knife.

"Are you going to eat?" he asked. 

You shook your head. 

"Maybe later," you said. "I'm not that hungry."

His lips curled into a nearly imperceptible smile. 

"So, you made all this food for me?" he asked. 

This was your moment to make good on the promise of honesty you'd made to yourself earlier. 

"Honestly?" you said, and your stomach flipped. "I've been really nervous about this whole thing." 

"About seeing me?" he asked. The smile was still there. "How foolish." 

"I know that. I don't know, I just get so worried that I'm gonna mess this up somehow." 

He turned to look at you with an expression of disbelief. 

"I know," you repeated. "It's not rational. I just… Well, I like having you around and I don't wanna lose you again." 

Even under your pledge of honesty, you weren't quite ready to express the extent of your romantic feelings for him. After a few more glasses of wine, perhaps, but not as things stood at the present moment. 

"That's certainly not something I hear very often," he said. 

"Well, I mean it," you said. 

You just couldn't take this distance anymore. You hadn't allowed him to come here so that the two of you could have a polite chat. The evening was turning out exactly as you'd feared and you had to do something. 

And so, without another word, you leaned toward him and rested your head against his shoulder. 

Part of you expected him to push you away or to ask what the hell you were doing, but instead, he simply allowed it. 

It was as though a huge weight had been lifted from your chest and suddenly, you weren't feeling quite so anxious anymore. And you felt that he had relaxed somewhat as well, his shoulder noticeably loosening the moment you touched it. 

This was all that you truly wanted. In that moment, you realized that all of the anxiety you'd felt while getting your apartment ready had been an illusion created by your mind to distract you from the truth: you simply wanted to see him and to spend time with him, no matter what form that took. But, deep down, you feared that none of the things you could come up with would be enough for him.

You leaned a little closer and nuzzled his neck. 

"I'm glad Dante didn't kill you," you said. 

"I'm pretty pleased with that fact myself," he said. 

You breathed a sigh of relief.

That simple, lighthearted exchange had dissolved so much of the tension in the room that you felt your anxiety starting to melt away, and your appetite began to return at last. 

                                                       *      *      *

Once the two of you had finished eating, you found yourself faced with the entirely new, albeit much less significant, question of whether or not you were going to invite him to spend the night. 

Things had been going well thus far. You'd managed to keep them from becoming awkward again, so it wouldn't be an inappropriate question. And he didn't seem to be making a rush to leave at the moment. 

You came up with a few different ways to ask, all of which condensed down into, "I'm starting to feel pretty tired." 

"I see," he said. "Then, I suppose I should be going now." 

You reached out your hand toward his arm in an attempt to stop him from heading out the door. 

"Wait!" you called. "I mean, I'm sure you're tired too, and you've been drinking, so it's probably not a good idea for you to drive home right now." 

"I metabolize alcohol more quickly than a human would." 

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Was he making excuses to leave or was he truly that dense?

You sighed and tried again. 

"What I'm trying to say is," you said. "Would you like to spend the night at my place?"

It was as though a light bulb had flicked on behind his eyes as soon as he'd processed what you'd said. 

"Oh," he said. "Yes, I would like that, if you're sure." 

"Yes, I'm sure. I asked you three times." 

"Did you?" 

You rolled your eyes. So he was that dense after all. You made a mental note to be more upfront with your propositions in the future. 

"Yes, I did," you said. "I'm gonna get ready for bed now, so feel free to join me whenever." 

You started up the stairs and weren't at all surprised when he didn't follow you. If he continued down his current trajectory, you feared he would try to sleep on the couch to be polite. 

Still, you'd managed to get your message through to him in the end. At least your efforts to straighten up your bedroom hadn't proven themselves to be a waste.

You began your usual nightly routine and had almost made it all the way through by the time Vergil had joined you upstairs. If it weren't for his reflection in the mirror in front of you, you never would have noticed him, as his footsteps were completely silent. He walked into the room and stopped just in front of your closet, then stared at it as though it confounded him in some way. You finished up brushing your teeth, then went to see if there was anything you could assist him with. 

"Looking for something?" you asked as you poked your head out of the bathroom. 

"I wasn't expecting this, so I didn't pack anything with me," he replied. "Would it be out of line to ask to borrow some of your clothes? I'd rather not sleep in this."

"Sure, that's fine. If you can find something that fits, that is."

You went to join him in front of the closet in order to help him look. You did have a number of oversized shirts that you liked to wear to bed, so perhaps he would be able to find something suitable among them.

He was taking his time in making a selection, so you decided to choose one for him. 

"How's this one?" you asked. 

You took a navy blue t-shirt from its hanger and held it out toward him. He took it from your hand and draped it over the front of his body. 

"It may be a bit tight," he said. 

"Well, I didn't exactly have your body in mind when I bought them, now did I?" 

He shot you a sideways look, but tucked the shirt under his arm anyway. You then made another selection, a pair of plain sweatpants that had always been slightly too big for you. 

"Thank you," he said.

With that handled, you returned to the bathroom to continue getting ready for bed and he began to change into the clothes that you had given him. 

You were on the very last stage of your routine, which involved finally letting down and brushing out your hair. You'd put it up in a simple bun as part of your attempt to impress him, so you got to work removing all of the bobby pins you'd stuck in it, accepting the fact that you would likely continue to find them after you'd woken up the next day. 

As you leaned closer to the mirror, it became apparent that you had a very clear view of Vergil in the reflection within it. You made a half-hearted attempt not to stare, but in between extracting bobby pins, you could stop yourself from glancing back.

His clothes may have been perfectly ordinary, but his body underneath them was anything but, which hadn't been apparent to you when it was mostly hidden beneath the thick fabric of the sweater. He was still facing toward the closet as he changed and you found yourself transfixed as you watched the muscles of his back flex with every movement. 

Even when you had long since run out of bobby pins, you found that you couldn't tear your eyes away. He had been right; your shirt was way too tight for him, particularly in the shoulder region, and it only served to emphasize his shape all the more. 

He put on the sweatpants and abruptly turned, prompting you to scramble in order to make it look as though you had been doing something other than shamelessly ogling him.

You made a grab for the hairbrush beside the sink and began to brush out your hair, perhaps a bit too aggressively to be convincing. 

He walked back toward the bathroom and hovered behind you as he examined the outfit you'd given him.

"You're right, that shirt is way too tight for you," you said. You turned around to get a better look at him. "Not that that's a bad thing." 

Perhaps it was the two glasses of wine in your system, or perhaps you were feeling emboldened by the positive turn the evening had taken, but regardless, you found that you were unable to resist the urge that came over you. 

"My clothes look pretty good on you," you said. "Dare I say, you wear those pants even better than I do." 

You walked around behind him and, without a word, smacked his ass with the hairbrush you still held in your hand.

His body tensed and he froze in place.

Oh no. 

Had you actually upset him? His eyes shot toward you and you weren't exactly sure what to make of his expression. 

He stared you down for a moment, then said, "give me that," as he made a grab for the brush. 

You somehow managed to move it out of his reach just in time. His second attempt was equally unsuccessful and you ducked beneath his hand, then took off running back out into your room.

"Give it to me!" he said. 

It came out as an order, but his tone was noticeably playful, removing the lingering concern that you'd caused any actual offense. 

He took off after you and paused just before you, freezing you beneath the door frame, blocking your path further out into the room.

"Make me," you returned, and you ducked beneath his arm before running back toward the bed. 

You were forced to stop again in order to avoid tripping on his clothes, which were now in a pile on the floor, and he took the opportunity to tackle you. 

"You're gonna regret that," he said, his breath tickling your ear as he pinned you down against the mattress and began grabbing at your wrist. 

In spite of all of your flailing, he finally got a good grip and brought it to a stop, then wrenched the brush free from your grasp with the other hand. As your body stilled and you turned to look up at him, you realized that he was laughing. 

For the first time since you'd known him, he appeared to be genuinely happy. 

You smiled as well, and giggled at the sight of him holding the hairbrush triumphantly over your head.

"You're ridiculous," you said. 

"I'm ridiculous?" 

He sat upright and placed the hairbrush onto your nightstand.

"Just can't let me win anything, can you?" you asked. 

You sat up as well and placed your head on his shoulder. 

"I have my dignity," he said. He sat quietly for a moment, then continued, "I can't thank you enough for having me over tonight."

"I'm glad you came back," you said. "I really did miss you, you know." 

He took hold of your right hand and held it to his chest.

"I was beginning to think that you would never find it in your heart to forgive me," he said. "Not that I really deserve it." 

"Oh, hush," you kissed his cheek. "What's done is done. You can't erase what you did. All you can do is keep moving forward, and that's what you're doing, isn't it?" 

"I suppose you're right." 

You brought your left hand up to match the right and gave him a gentle squeeze. 

"There will be more than enough time to talk about this tomorrow," you said. "For now, let's try to get some sleep, okay?" 

He nodded and you stood to turn off the light, then extinguished the candle before settling back into the bed. 

"Water under the bridge," you said. "I promise I'm not gonna lord this over you, or anything like that." 

"I wouldn't hold it against you if you did," he said. 

"Well, I'm not going to." 

You crawled under the blanket and laid down on your side. 

As soon as you closed your eyes, you realized just how exhausted you'd become. The adrenaline rush of the chase had masked it for a bit and it was all coming crashing down on you now.

You had just about drifted off to sleep when you felt him move a bit closer and work his arms beneath yours, wrapping them around you.

"I know you're probably asleep," he whispered. "But." He sighed. "You've been so good to me, from the very beginning. I don't think I could ever offer you a suitable repayment for everything you've done for me." There was a rather lengthy pause, and then, "you've shown me that, perhaps, humans can be kind after all." 

You had to smile at this. Even now, he was too ashamed to share his true feelings with you. You considered allowing him to believe that you truly were asleep, but instead, you turned over toward him and took his face in your hands. 

"That's really sweet," you said. 

Even in the darkness, you could see him turning red. 

"I didn't know you were still awake," he said. 

"Clearly." You smiled. "It's okay. You can be honest with me. I promise I won't judge you."

You gave a large yawn and snuggled up to his chest. 

"I'll try to keep that in mind," he said. 

And so, all of your fears had proven themselves to be unfounded. Perhaps you could find a way to make this work after all.

It was with this thought in mind that you finally began to drift off to sleep, soothed by it and by the feel of his arms around you. It just felt right, like this was the way things were supposed to be all along, even if it took a while for them to get there.

You could rest assured that, tonight, he was still going to be there by the time you awoke the next morning.

#vergil x reader #dmc #dmc5 #dmc vergil #vergil #writing #fanfiction #fluff #like big fluffy clouds on a summer day #lordt #reader insert #alcohol #tw: alcohol

[shianhygge-imagines]

Silver Rose [Vergil/Reader] {Devil May Cry} The Demon Half

AN: This chapter is shorter than the previous one, but it’s mostly the prologue of the game, and Reader’s encounter with Urizen during the beginning of the game.

I’ve just been writing nonstop the past 48 hours. Panic? What’s panic? Pshhhhh |Masterlist Link|    |First Chapter|    |Prev. Ch.| --- |Next Ch.|

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16th May 08:06pm - Red Grave City

“Dante, V, once I get my hands on you, you’re both dead!” You screamed to nobody in particular as the Totsuka sliced through another demon with a simple flick of your wrist. All around you, the bodies of slain demons dissolved, some turning to ash, others into sludge. They were fairly low ranking demons, weak and hardly strong enough to wind you after so many years hunting demons alongside Dante. And speaking of… you could hear the sounds of combat ahead.

No doubt Dante, V, and Trish taking on Urizen… Vergil…

You didn’t want to believe what V had told you two weeks ago. You didn’t want to believe that the monster that decided to invade the human world with the Qliphoth Demon Tree was what remained of your husband. But as you pressed forward, sliding down a few fleshy ledges and striking down any demon in your way, you found yourself begrudgingly accepting that such a stupid situation would be just like your husband. “Fucking summoning another stupidly tall fortress into the mortal world for power.” You muttered angrily, firing off a few shots from the Silver Rose into some flying insect demons. “First Temen Ni Gru, and now the damned Qliphoth Tree, you’re just a walking plot cliche!”

There were a few reasons that you were currently livid and brutally massacring your way through the innards of the demon tree. The first, because your husband had summoned a giant blood sucking demon tree in order to gain power. Second, because he had done so in Red Grave City, your childhood home with the Sparda twins. The third, because your fucking house was just on the opposite end of the damned city, and you were going to make sure that nothing happens to your house. Fourth, because you wanted answers. V was only willing to answer so many of your questions, and Dante was just as clueless as you. So, you had to go confront Vergil yourself. And fifth, because Dante left you behind. He’d left with Trish, V, and Lady despite saying that he would take you along. To make matters worse, he’d taken the helicopter, forcing you to speed towards your home city on your motorbike. The pizza that your brother-in-law had sent you out to get because he ‘wanted a snack on the go’ has long since been consumed by your annoyed self on the way to Red Grave City.

When you’d called to yell at him, Dante simply said that it wasn’t your fight. And while you weren’t mad that he’d decided to leave you behind to be safe, you were livid that he would even suggest that Vergil wasn’t your problem. Even though you loved Vergil, you would still fight him in order to save the mortal world.

“Left me behind to go with V… Had to speed just to get here in time.” You mutter, closing in on the battle.

It is when you get closer to the battle that you notice it’s only one person fighting… and suddenly, your thoughts aren’t to fight Urizen… it’s to do everything you can to protect your son. “Nero!” You scream, pulling the Silver Rose out to shoot at the offending tentacle.

The limb retreats from your shot, allowing Nero to deal some damage to a spinning crystal of sorts before being forced to back away. Upon closer look, you realize with horror that it is the Yamato that was trapped inside the material. All attention is drawn to you as you step into the ‘throne room’ of sorts, swapping the Silver Rose for the Totsuka.

“You…” The deep demonic voice that calls out to you is vaguely familiar underneath the rumble as the gigantic being directs dull glowing blue eyes at you. Perhaps, V was correct, and this was once Vergil, but with its body mutated and entwined with the demon tree, you conclude that perhaps it was time to let your husband go. Heh. Fat chance of that happening, and you know it.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you Totsuka from its sheath, the blade crying for its counterpart, “Surprise, it’s me.” You cheer dryly, keeping your eyes on the demon. “Did ya think I wouldn’t come, darling? That I wouldn’t come stop you from attempting to destroy the world a second time?” The demon lord does not answer you, and a humorless laugh escapes your lips, “Not the happy reunion that I imagined, but okay.”

Your eyes don’t leave Urizen, but your next words are directed at Nero, “Nero, darling, you’re supposed to be in the hospital.”

Your son grunts and revs the Red Queen, looking unbalanced from his missing limb. Nero tries to reassure you with a cocky grin, “I couldn’t let the asshole that stole my arm have free roam.”

“How the hell did you even learn about this gig, anyways?” You demanded, stepping further into the arena, sword at the ready and positioned beside your son.

“V told me.” Nero shrugged and rotated his shoulder before sprinting forward to deal another blow towards the crystalized Yamato.

Following up with a strike of your own, you cursed under your breath, “Of fucking course, V told you.” Jumping away from the crystal when several beams of light impaled the ground before you, you were forced to dodge roll to the side in order to avoid a giant fireball getting thrown at you. “When I get my hands on that lanky bastard…”

In the background, you could hear a rather loud voice speak out, no doubt Griffon, “Heh! I don’t think the Lady Sparda’s happy with you, Shakespeare!”

You were only able to catch a glimpse of a large bird and a head of familiar dark hair before a tentacle appeared from the throne and slapped you into the side of the arena. “Argh!” You grunted from the impact, sliding down the wall to stand on your feet again. “Gah! Damn it, darling! Married for nearly twenty three years and I didn’t know you had kinks! You’d think you’re smart enough not to try this shit in front of my son!” The tentacle reeled back in order to side swipe you, but you jumped up just in time to avoid the horizontal sweep of the fleshy plant limb. As you dodged, you could hear the sound of someone choking and coughing from behind you. “I mean, okay, darling. We can play this game,” You folded with a solemn nod and a sly grin, before dashing forward to attack the unprotected crystal, “So long as I get to do some pegging!”

The strike met its target just as Nero groaned in embarrassment, “Mom! What the hell! Cut it out!” You were about to tease Nero with a grin until a tentacle appeared to slap your son to the side, sending him crashing into the fleshy wall. Distracted by the fact that your son had gotten bitch slapped by a tentacle, you didn’t notice when a beam of thin light shot up from under your abdomen, easily piercing through your body and sending you flying backwards.

No cry of pain left your lips as you slammed into the back wall and slide to the floor, instead, as your vision started to fade to black, watching as Dante attempted to take Urizen down with his Devil Trigger, you laughed, “Urgh… you haven’t changed at all. Still stabbing me in the abdomen twenty years later…” Before your vision completely fade, Shadow approached your body and shifted, but to what form, you weren’t sure, only able to discern slicked back hair and worried eyes before falling unconscious.

The next you came to, your body had naturally healed the hole in your abdomen, and you found yourself lying in your bed within Red Grave City. Sitting in a chair by your bedside, was V, reading the Anthology of William Blake. The moment you shifted, the young man closed the tome and set it aside, his eyes raising to look at you, “I am glad that you recovered, Y/N.”

“V…” You wheezed, throat sore and voice hoarse, “What happened? How long was I out? Where’s Nero and Dante?” The questions spewed from your mouth faster than you could breathe.

Your and Dante’s client pressed his lips in a thin line before answering you, “Dante stayed behind to buy us time to escape. None of us were strong enough to face Urizen. Nero left for Fortuna to get stronger, and I haven’t heard from Dante since we left the Qliphoth Tree three days prior. You’ve been unconscious since.”

Huffing, you peered out the room window to observe the massive tree in the distance, “Did Shadow bring us here?” You wondered, remembering that it was the remnant of Vergil that had probably carried you out of the tree.

“Yes.” V answered, turning to also stare out the window. “I wasn’t aware that you owned property in Red Grave City.”

“The house belongs to my husband and I.” You clarified, but didn’t say more. “So, what’s the plan, V? Get stronger and then take Urizen on again?”

The younger man nodded, “That is the plan.”

An impatient huff left your lips, “That’s a shitty plan.”

The grim expression on V’s face brought you to silence, “It’s the only plan we have.”

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Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed my work, please consider buying me a Ko-fi!

#shianhygge #shian imagines #vergil x reader #Vergil Sparda #vergil #dmc v #v #v dmc5 #Dante Sparda #devil may cry #nero sparda #dmc nero #devil may cry imagines #devil may cry 5 #dmc #dmc5 #urizen #urizen x reader #kinda #v x reader #dmc v x reader

[harlot-of-oblivion]

Hi, I really like your writing. I hope you can write for me a fic for Vergil and his insecure s/o. At first, she is the one who lightened up Vergil's life after he returned from hell, helped him to get along with his family and heal his mental wounds. But after he had a strong position in human world, she started to feel insecure because she is no one, a weak human, who can not compare to this fukin perfect, gorgeous half demon man (omg) Thank you and love you

This was such a nice request to write! I hope you enjoy it! 💖

You first meet Vergil at the library. Your hand collides with his when both of you absent mindedly reach for the same book. And after a short but testy discussion, he agrees to let you check out the book first on one condition: that you bring him the book at his place of residence as soon as you are done reading it. You thought his request was quite odd, but you still consent to his demands since this stoic stranger piqued your interest.

So, you keep your word and bring the book straight to a shop called Devil May Cry. It is there that you find out a couple of things about Vergil just by walking in, such as him having a twin brother named Dante and that both are devil hunters by trade. It is a bit shocking…you did not expect Vergil, who looks somewhat like a gentleman, to be a mercenary for hire. But when you think back on it, you do remember him carrying a katana in the library…you mentally smack yourself aside the head for not connecting the dots sooner.

You exchange a few pleasantries as you hand over the book and wish him a good day. But before you can turn to leave, Vergil asks if he can discuss the book with you sometime over tea at a nearby café. You are a bit astonished as first, but quickly recover and adamantly accept his offer. His expression does not change much, but his eyes seem to look relieved as you give him your cellphone number before taking your leave.

And it is there over many cups of tea and coffee where you really get to know Vergil Sparda, son of a well renowned Legendary Knight. This explains why he does not fit in so well…being a half demon surrounded by humans who may have prejudices against him does make it hard to live a normal life. So, you decide right then and there that you are going to be good friend and help this rather grumpy devil find his place in this world.

The newfound friendship with Vergil is shaky at first. He does not talk much about his personal life at first, but the more time you spend with him, the more he reveals…albeit, a little reluctantly when he talks about his family or his past transgressions. You listen with an open mind and heart through all your conversations, really feeling for him as he bares his soul to you little by little.  And every time your talks come to an end, he always asks you the same questions:

Do I disgust you now? Could you ever forgive someone who committed such sins? How will I ever come to term with what I’ve done?

And you always answer the same way:

You can either let your past hold you back or learn from it and move forward with your life. But most importantly…you must forgive yourself, Vergil. Forgive yourself and I promise that your family will see the good that I see in you now.  

It takes awhile for your words to truly sink in, but once they do…Vergil has never looked so content since you have known him. He thanks you for council on multiple occasions, and you always tell him that it is what friends are for and give him a warm smile. Your heart flutters every time he returns your smile with his own soft grin, but your mind is quick to remind you that he only sees you as a friend and nothing more.

At least, you think he sees you as just a friend, but his actions say otherwise. His lingering glances, subtle touches on your hands, and gradual closeness well within your personal space…they all scream that he feels the same way. But something inside you always stops you short from stepping over that line of friendship. Your mind constantly brings up the fact you are just a measly human, a nobody, no one special. Vergil deserves someone more on par with his strength and skill, which is most definitely not you.

However, your heart doesn’t agree with your mind, and you get stuck in a perpetual cycle of yearning and self-doubt. The easiest way to end your inner turmoil is to just come forward with your feelings, but you feel so sure that it will only end with outright rejection. You would rather be friends with him than not at all despite all your insecurities. So, you suffer in silence as he moves forward with his life, reconnecting with his family and slowly healing the wounds from his past. But of course, you can’t hold back your feelings forever, and they start to leak through the cracks at the worst possible time.

Vergil has invited you to small get-together at Devil May Cry to meet his family. It’s supposed to be a happy event, but all you can think about is just how weak you are compared to all the people gathered here. How could you possibly be with a gorgeous half demon if you can’t even keep up with those closest to him? As they all chat and laugh around a pool table you start feeling overwhelmed and you need to excuse yourself before succumbing to your anxieties. As you walk out of the room you happen to glance back and catch Vergil’s expression just before the door closes. If you didn’t know any better…he looked concerned as he watches you leave. But you shake that lingering notion out of your head because how can a powerful man like him even care for the wellbeing of someone like you?

Your mind is whirling so much…you don’t even realize that you are not heading to the restroom until you come to a door labelled rooftop access. You decide that some fresh air might do your worried mind some good, so you push your way through the door and climb the stairs leading up to roof of the shop. The feeling of fresh air blowing against your face instantly calms your nerves. You walk up close the edge of the roof and just stand there, silently staring at the cityscape below as it sparkles in the late evening sun. After a few moments you have fully reigned in your emotions, tucking them back behind a wall in your mind.

You take a couple of deep breaths, preparing yourself to go back into shop rejoin the crew, but when you turn around…the man that makes your head spin and heart sing is standing a short distance away from you, coattails flapping in the wind as he studies you closely. “What troubles you?” he asks, pinning you down with his fierce and steady gaze.

“It’s nothing, Vergil,” you sigh, trying your best to quell your beating heart as you stand up straight and meet his intense gaze. “I just needed to clear my head, that’s all.”

Vergil frowns skeptically. “Clearly, something is bothering you,” he notes while taking a step towards you. “Tell me what ails you, Y/N.” He continues to move closer to you until he is well within your personal space once more. “Let me return the favor and help you just like you’ve helped me so many times before,” he offers solemnly as he peers down at you.

You know that you really shouldn’t confess what is truly bothering you. If you want to continue being friends, you should just claim that everything is fine; that you were feeling a bit stifled in the crowded room and just came up here to take in some fresh air…but you cannot lie. Not to him…and not to yourself any longer. “It’s just,” you begin, bowing your head as you muster the courage for the task at hand.

“What troubles me is my heart.” You look back up and stare deeply into his eyes as you finally confess your true feelings for the extraordinary devil before you. “My heart yearns for you, Vergil. But I know that you’ll never return my feelings because I’m weak and undeserving of your affection. And I’ve tried so hard to hold back these feelings for so long, but it’s starting to wear me down and I just can’t-”

Vergil suddenly cups your face and cuts you off with a soft and passionate kiss. You stand stock still and your frantic thoughts come to a screeching halt as all your focus turns to the warm lips pressing sweetly against your own. All the tension that previously wracked your body melts away, but before you can properly catch up to reality he draws back from your lips and strokes your cheeks while his forehead rests on your brow.

“You’re wrong,” he counters softly, silver blue eyes glowing with intent. “You are so strong, Y/N. You’ve managed to do what no one has done before…” he trails off as one of his hands leaves your cheek to take ahold of your own hand. “You’ve warmed the heart of this cold devil,” he declares in earnest as he places your hand against his chest, letting you feel his strong heartbeat as he continues. “And despite all the wrong I’ve done…you stayed by my side and helped me move on with my life.”

You are so glad that Vergil is holding you close in that very moment because you feel as if you could float away as his heartfelt words erase all trace of self-doubt from your mind. Your heart thrums as his thumb begins to caress the back of your hand. And his face is still close…your body quivers with every breath he takes before he speaks once more.

“And if anyone is undeserving of affection, it is me and not you, my heart. I’m unworthy of-”  

You do not know what compelled you to stand on the balls of your feet and cut him off with your own passionate kiss. Perhaps it was just your old habit of stopping him short every time he is about to put himself down. Or maybe it was the way he called you his heart. But what you do know is that his lips feel wonderful as he leans into you, and that you love this stoic devil with every fiber of your being.      

And before he can deepen the kiss, you break away and gaze up at him tenderly. “Do you remember what I told you?” you ask softly. He quirks an eyebrow and remains quiet before you go on. “You still have good inside you, Vergil.” You lovingly nuzzle his face and smile warmly as you make a solemn vow right then and there in the arms of the devil that stole your heart.

“And I will always remind you of that truth every day for as long as we’re together, my love.”

#vergil #devil may cry #dmc5 #vergil x reader #insecure reader #request #angst #lil bit o' fluff #harlot writes

[daemongal]

May I request a angst V/reader ficlet based on the song “Skinny Love” by Bon Iver? I was listening to it yesterday and the line “And in the morning I’ll be with you, but it will be a different kind.” hit me in the worst way thinking about how V’s time is limited with the person he loves.

Gah the angst, why do you do this to me!? ;_; I tried my best to integrate the song but the scene just kind of flowed a certain way in my mind. I hope this is OK! Honestly though, thank you for the request, it was heartbreaking fun to write!

_____

Come on skinny love just last the year. Pour a little salt we were never here.

V gently tucked your hair behind your ear, being careful not to disturb you. He looked down from his book, smiling softly at your sleeping face. Your mouth hung open, your breaths catching in your throat slightly causing you to snore ever so lightly. You never were an elegant sleeper, but you knew V never cared. You had fallen asleep on his lap, arm sprawled across his thighs, the rest of your body cocooned under the sheets.  

V often stayed awake at nights, too afraid to sleep and let his guard down, too anxious with thoughts of the future for his mind to rest. He could tell from the size of the Qliphoth, from the amount of corpses that now littered the streets that he would have to take action soon. He had tried and failed once already, and he didn’t plan to fail again. He couldn’t allow Urizen to continue terrorising the world; your world. He had to be stopped, and he was becoming painfully aware of what must be done to achieve that. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to tell you; you who was so willing to accept him, so willing to spend your waking hours with him and so willing to love him.  

As if sensing his inner turmoil, Griffon formed, perching at the foot of the bed with a look of somewhat concern on his face.

“Ya know you could just leave now Shakespeare. She’s a heavy sleeper, she wouldn’t even stir.” Shadow formed on the floor beside the bed at his words, raising her hackles and hissing quietly at the other demon. “What kitty? You know I’m right. He’s just gonna keep torturing himself over this when he knows he doesn’t really have a choice, ain’t that right, V?”

V was still watching your face, taking in the words of his companion but unsure how to respond. It was true, he couldn’t stay. He was the only one who could stop this massacre completely, and he knew that even if he didn’t, his body wouldn’t survive. You would have to watch him fall apart, break into pieces before your eyes, and even he wasn’t selfish enough to do that to you. Instead, he was selfish enough to keep you blissfully unaware of the future, to indulge himself in emotions and feelings once long forgotten, all the while knowing that you would end up hurt and alone.

He had considered the possibility of returning after his reunion with Urizen, but he knew how fickle Vergil could be. He had tried to embrace his human emotions once before, but that had only led him to becoming more fearful of them as a result. Love was indeed terrifying. More than once he had found himself staring death in the eye, only to find himself more concerned with your safety than his own. It was likely these memories alone would be enough to scare Vergil from ever returning to your side, and even if he did; Vergil wasn’t V. Would you even accept him? The contrasts in their personalities were so stark that even if some semblance of V remained within him, would it be recognisable? He sighed, his heart heavy with turmoil as he cupped the hand gripping his thigh with his own.

“To see a world in a grain of sand, and heaven in a wild flower. To hold infinity in the palm of your hand, and eternity in an hour. I know what must be done Griffon, and I do not intend to stray further from the intended path; I have already strayed enough.”

“You bet your ass you have. I dunno what was going through your mind when you thought it was a good idea to hole her up in here instead of just sending her on her way. Would have made both your lives easier. A pretty face never stopped you doing it before!” V decided not to respond to his obvious jab, knowing fine well that as a part of him, Griffon knew of his feelings towards you, even if he didn’t necessarily understand them.

“I will admit my selfishness kept compelling me to come back when it may have been in her best interests for me to leave. However, the thought of doing so filled me with the worry of returning one day to find the building empty, or worse. This body of mine is too self-indulgent for its own good, and she was all too happy to indulge me.” Your had twitched under his; he could only hope you were having a pleasant dream.  

Griffon fluffed his feathers, the weight of V’s emotions making him uncomfortable. “You do realise it’s tomorrow, right V? When the kid is coming, when you’re climbing back up that glorified house plant, when you plan to return to Urizen?! You need to decide Shakespeare, and you need to decide quickly what you plan t-”

“I have already made my decision, Griffon.” V cut him off, voice sharp like cut glass. “I plan to leave like any other day. She does not need to know more than she already does, anything more will only cause her unnecessary pain.” You murmured against his lap as a concerned expression adorned his features.

“So it’s for her sake not yours, is that what you’re telling yourself? Because- and I’m just being honest here- to me it seems like your hiding this from her because you’re too ashamed to tell her the truth. You don’t want her to look at you the same way he doe-” Griffon stopped himself as he sensed the fire welling behind V’s eyes, his face scrunched with anger at the words being spoken, mirroring his own thoughts that he had buried deep within himself.

He had no retort; he was unable to deny Griffon’s words as they cut into him like daggers. He had no right to be annoyed at his familiar, but it was still an easier option than directing it towards himself.  

“I… appreciate your honesty, however the outcome will remain the same either way. I will leave tomorrow and will not return. Whatever may return to her will not be the same. What will remain of me will be her memories of our time together and I… would rather not taint them.” Griffon fluffed his feathers again.

“Well, suit yourself. It’s your funeral Shakespeare. Might wanna make sure the kid doesn’t spill the beans though. I assume part of your plan is making sure he gets back here alive.” That much was true. V hadn’t intended on having any further casualties, but with how things had gone so far, nothing was certain.

“Yes, I plan to speak with him tomorrow. I would have liked to keep the truth from Nero as well but, it may prove difficult given the circumstances. However, I do believe he will keep his lips sealed for her sake.” Looking up, V noticed the sun beginning to beat against the curtains signalling that morning was arriving, much quicker than he would have liked. “For now thought, I would like some privacy. I intend to leave behind only good memories of our final morning together.”

“Pff, whatever loverboy. We know when we aren’t wanted. C’mon kitty.” Griffon dissipated, returning to black ink across V’s torso, Shadow following shortly after with a quiet purr. V brushed his fingers tenderly across your face, bringing you back to consciousness slowly. He smiled as your eyes slowly opened, his chest becoming suddenly heavy as you hummed and nuzzled his thighs.

“Good morning my wildflower.” He ran his hands through your hair, massaging your scalp. “I apologise for waking you from your dreams so early, but I must leave soon for urgent business. Until that time comes, however, I’m yours in my entirety.”

And now all your love is wasted, And then who the hell was I? And I’m breaking at the britches, And at the end of all your lines.

_____

For anyone interested, here’s a link to the song if you aren’t familiar with it. I hope you enjoyed this!

A/N: This could be interpreted as a prequel to a previous fic I wrote (The Greatest Gift) if you wanted to think of it that way! :3

#sfw #angst #v x reader #dmc #dmc 5 #devil may cry #my fic #request #ask #anon #skinny love #song fic #kinda #feels #v #griffon #dmc v #hope you enjoyed!

[scncfsparda]

headcanons with nickey? oh boy do i love making them sad.

so, let’s look at the relationships between dante and his parents. specifically how they are over time. why? because fuck you i wanna talk about it cause capcom fucking won’t. in a basic summary, it follows the five stages of grief, but not in the order you may think. so lets break down the games in chronological order, that being 3, 1, 2, 4, 5 if you forget, cause i’m aware some mutuals don’t know off the top of their heads.  yes it gets long, but i hope y’all are ready.

devil may cry 3: denial. yes, denial is first. dante is in complete denial over his losses, but not in the way you expect. he denies the existence of loss in sparda, his father. he denies he even existed, having said that to vergil on the temen-ni-gru. meanwhile with eva, he’s not exactly in denial over it happening, rather in denial she’s truly gone. he believes she’s there, and he continues fighting for his mother. it’s not until lady comes into the picture with similar issues, does dante leave the denial phase, but that doesn’t mean he’s out of the woods yet. he’s accepted his parents are gone, and that yes, he is a son of sparda, but he wants to honour the good in them both, not the power bestowed to the youngest. however, this is only the beginning - literally. 

devil may cry 1: depression. this one is the most obvious. dante’s very much in a dark depression, and he often mentions his parents throughout the entire game. he wants to honour them, to put to rest the dark memories of his childhood, but trish being there only worsens it, because she’s basically there to haunt him of how he failed to protect eva, and now he’s determined to right the wrongs of the past. however, mundus already knew it, and he predicted it, hence why nelo angelo - who is vergil, his fallen brother - is there to taunt him more. the memories of their parents are what binds them sadly, and the amulet only proves it. this amulet haunts dante too, which is why he also leaves it by trish after he kills mundus - in both his father’s and mother’s name. the sword, for sparda, the amulet, for eva. but he hasn’t moved on when trish came back with the belongings he laid by her unconscious body, in fact it’s argued it gets worse when she leaves to do her own thing.  another side note: he uses force edge, the imperfect form devil sword sparda, to kill mundus, as a token of honour to his father, and he wears the amulet under his shirt, a token to honour his mother.

devil may cry 2: anger. they say that sometimes the quietest are the most angry, and in a way, dante actually is. silence is a form of anger, the quippy remarks are gone. but why is he angry? he got his revenge, but the bitter aftermath is not what he wanted. mundus was right in saying he won’t get his mother back, and his father’s legacy is gone as mundus is gone too. so, what does that leave? vil de marli, where lucia and matier are. dante is very much the most closed off with them, as they know many tales of sparda, but he doesn’t want to be seen as a pale imitation, which is why he journeyed to the demon world alone. his anger does die down, however he never accepts the past, he simply avoids it.

devil may cry 4: bargaining. bargaining in dmc4 you may think? well yes. the yamato. whilst it’s his brothers, its the only other heirloom left behind by sparda. he wants to keep both his mother and father’s memories close by, and he already owns the rebellion and her photo. however, bargaining isn’t always going to  end with everything you wanted at the beginning, not when a larger offer appears, which is why when he leaves, he doesn’t want the yamato, he wants nero to continue his work, and inevitably, join the devil may cry shop. ironically, this is all in fortuna, where his father’s name is everywhere, and the fact he’s in there and usurping the city in his father’s name, the bargaining becomes a method of healing for dante, but it’s never realised until dmc5.

devil may cry 5: acceptance. he’s at peace. he’s accepted he is both his mother and father’s youngest son, he’s accepted that he is the son of sparda, and is the new legendary dark knight - solidified by the absorption of the rebellion and devil sword sparda. but they are both his fathers heirlooms, but the location is where it all comes together - the manor within the outskirts of red grave city. dante’s home, where his mother raised him and vergil. there, he honours his parents, and forges the new devil sword in his will, in his mothers and fathers name. that way, he carries both legacies, and takes them to the underworld to fight for humanity and the good demons that remain. 

#★┊ 🇫🇴🇷🇲🇸 🇹🇭🇪 🇷🇪🇧🇪🇱🇱🇮🇴🇳 🇩🇪🇲🇴🇳🇮🇨 🇧🇱🇴🇴🇩. ⚕ (about dante). #long post // #a VERY LONG POST #hi im nickey and welcome to pain hour

[mahvaladara]

Thinking about V and DMC V

Whenever I think about it, and after reading that amazing analysis on V, and all Vergil and V have been through, V is quite the tragic character.

No one wanted V, no one cared for V, sadly enough, not even himself.

His own self cast him out to wither and die. His “loyal” demons only stick around because they are in the same predicament as him. The people he turned to for help do not care about him. The woman that like the mother in a way tells him she doesn’t care and for him to man up.

He’s crumbling, he’s dying, he’s afraid. And only when he decides: Fuck it. I’ll see this through. I don’t want to die.

I think that after that turning, V just decides to go on out of spite and understanding. 

This “human” heart that was cast away that wanted to help mankind because he is kind because he knows it is his self that has caused this, has always known, always understood, but now he feels it. He knows what it feels to not be loved, to not be wanted, do not mean anything. 

Suddenly he understands Vergil. Suddenly he understands his own demon. Why his demon was obsessed with power, why his demon was obsessed with killing Dante because his demon had nothing else left. He had nothing else left than keep going or die, and he doesn’t want to die. And power is not enough, he knows this now.

Power is not enough. Urizen is going to be destroyed and V is going to die. If anything else, since he can’t do anything else since no one cares about what comes of him, he suddenly wants to give himself a fighting chance. He wants to survive and give himself a fighting chance. The one that was controlled and abused by a demon. The one that was left to rot in the Demon World. The one that was defeated time and time again. 

The one that was picked last.

Vergil.

He wants to give Vergil a fighting chance.

That is why he decides to remerge with Urizen, despite knowing this would bring back Vergil. Because the whole time the objective was to destroy Urizen and the Qliphoth and at the very end, after Trish, after accepting who and he is. He decides, killing Urizen is just the end. And now he understands. Now he knows the pain of being picked last.

This is why he says to Nero that he wanted to be “loved and protected”, because he has always existed believing no one ever wanted him, not even himself. Because while Dante leaves going “yea, you should rest”, leaving him on the floor, crumbling, Trish goes “I’m not your mom”, Lady is like “I guess? I mean you’re meaningless to me”, 

Nero is the only one who lends him a shoulder.

And V is just crumbling in all ways possible. This humanity has reached the end of its string and it’s in pain. 

One thing I have learned through life experience is that you can only take so long to people pulling on your heartstrings before you break. 

But V’s humanity does brush to Vergil strongly. We see that, with him refusing to fight Dante if Dante isn’t his whole self. With him accepting to destroy the Qliphoth that he brought, and above all, with him give Nero the book. And I think the book is the most important part.

Because until then, Vergil hadn’t realized Nero was his son. He only realizes it after Dante tells him. He might have suspected, but nonetheless. To him its nothing but another demon hybrid with his Yamato. So though at the end, Vergil giving Nero the book, might be interpreted as him accepting Nero as his son and recognizing his valour as a warrior. 

But accepting Nero as his son and his valour as a warrior, Vergil has already done it. He has entrusted Nero with protecting the Human World and he admitted defeat (not by those exact words, but regardless). Only afterwards does he notice the book, and the moment he gives the book to Nero, in my personal opinion is not so much Vergil but more V.

Because when V was crumbling, everyone left him. Nero was the only one who showed any form of concern or interest towards V. First suspicious curiosity, later respect and at the end genuine concern. 

Nero didn’t need to go back and give his shoulder to V and help him get to the Qliphoth. For a matter of fact that only slows him down. Nonetheless, he chose to. Nero could have gone, and we all know what would have happened.

Dante would have destroyed Urizen, the Qliphoth might have been stopped, and V, surrounded by his familiars would crumble away into “Qliphoth dust”. But no, Nero saw how important it was for V to get there, and he helped him, he made sure he made it through. And after V merges with Urizen, who’s the first person to ask about V? Nero.

Someone cared, and there’s nothing more important than that. Someone cared for this small shard of humanity that no one wanted.  It wasn’t a demon fearing its own demise, a devil hunter getting paid. It was a genuine human concern and care that sealed the deal. 

So Vergil gives Nero the one object to which V clung to while begging to survive. The most important part of his humanity, small poems and good memories he held on to, of a time where he wasn’t left behind.

We can say that Vergil and V are a perfect analogy of accepting oneself, perfections and imperfections. 

But in the end, it is still sad and tragic. Because Vergil is not V, Vergil is the union of V and Urizen, and Vergil is a whole, not the sum of his parts. So from that moment on, Urizen and V are both gone and only Vergil is left. 

All of V and the ending saddens me.

Because only Nero proves Vergil there’s some worth to his humanity. No one else cared about it. Dante had a villain to defeat, and everyone else had a contractor to do a job for. That was it.

It’s like something you made, and you love it, and you show it to everyone, and no one cares, or everyone tears it apart, to the point you’re wondering if it’s even worth anything and sometimes, you just give up on it. This is what V became to Vergil, and what V ends up being to everyone else but Nero.

One thing that hurts me about Dante, is that when Dante realizes what V is about to do. The first thing he does he try to stop him because he knows it’ll bring back Vergil. He tries to stop V despite knowing they’re both dying. 

And it hurts that this is who Dante and Vergil are. Two stubborn men who will keep fighting over a stupid point. One for demons, one for humans, despite the fact they’re both.

I am saddened with the loss of V, because I feel it brings little to the table. It hints at the possibility of Vergil becoming and being a better man, but we spend the whole game getting to know his human side, not him. And at the end, we just see them brotherly bickering and guess what, fighting. Might be fun and here they go again, but it’s more of the same.

V wears his emotions on his sleeve, he is mischievous, sombre and secretive, but he is also kind. Vergil is stoic, controlled, reserved and most certainly not kind.

I am hoping in DMC VI they plan to bring Vergil not as an antagonist but as, from the beginning to the end, ally! If they decide to continue the line of Vergil being a rival or a villain, I feel they will make all V went through meaningless cannon fodder. 

Though I would love to see V be brought back, I don’t know how such could be pulled. I am not, however, against the idea of a second “son” of Vergil, one who looks, acts and is like V. Maybe one created and brought by Vergil himself to aid his son, Nero.

Because, honestly, V and Nero make an amazing team, and we need brothers working and fighting together, and not just being dicks to one another. My favourite missions were those where the two fought together. Or where I could stand above or bellow watching V or Nero fight. It was fun to be in that platform and watch Griffon bickering with the demon V was fighting. And it was fun to later when I replayed the level as V, to watch Nero do the same on the platform.

In a nutshell, I want V back. Because I know how it feels to be the last picked, or how it feels to not matter and you’re trying so hard, but you don’t matter.

#dmc 5 #dmc v #shah has many feels about v

[spirit-of-the-void]

Ebony and Ivory (V x Reader Fanfic) Chapter 25

Author’s Notes: Sorry this one came out so late, I had some other stuff that held me up. Have some more pain.

Chapter 25

Numbness filled your entire being.

How could you even begin to process it, the feeling crawling up your spine? Staring at this man... Vergil, the culmination of every fear you held, the manifestation of your failure. He stood straight and poised, eyes sharp and brow furrowed in a stern, albeit dazed expression. Processing. You understood now, all of V’s reservations. His lies, his hidden truths, the hesitations he showed. Everything was falling into place, the pieces fitting together in a chain of despair and lies. It made you feel numb, eyes wide and staring at this person, standing in place of the one you lost.

Everything made sense now. Dante’s comment about the Yamato separating man from devil, V saying Urizen “took” something important from him, something he couldn’t live without. His desire to reach the demon, that drive to move forward without stop. It was bitterly obvious now, this truth you so desperately didn’t want to see. Each new thought made your teeth grind, the pain growing and growing inside until you felt near bursting, breath shaking and nails digging into your palms. You were a fool, an ignorant fool. And you hated yourself for it.

V and Urizen...they were pieces of one whole, different being.

Dante’s brother.

V was a piece of Dante’s brother.

The devil hunter in question was furious, staring at Vergil in shock and anger. Each breath sounded like it was sucked through his teeth, eyes sharp and jaw clenched. He looked very displeased to see his brother, that was for certain, more so than you had ever seen him. That realization only made your grief grow, clawing its way up your throat and shredding everything in its wake. The man you loved, trusted, and adored...he was gone, and in his place was a man who caused the death of so many human lives. Nothing you knew made sense anymore, none of it did. You thought you knew V, knew his intentions and his feelings. But now...you knew nothing.

Because he was part of a bigger picture, a different person.

But it didn’t stop any of it, any of the pain, the mourning, the agony. All of this had happened, things crumbling like wet paper and you still were so in love with the poet. That alone was crushing and confusing, making your head spin in circles trying to figure it all out. You loved him, you loved V so much that it was unbearable now.

Everything was unbearable now.

You were volatile, on the edge of collapse and there was nothing you could do about it but sit, shaking softly and struggling to pull yourself together. Nothing worked, nothing would work. No amount of self composure, breathing, or reasoning would remove the growing turmoil inside your body.

This is agony.

Nero looked as shocked confused as you felt, looking at the newcomer with wide eyes and chest rising in quick breaths. You all watched as Vergil turned, walking over to where V’s book lay on the Qliphoth floor, now just a forgotten reminder of who had it before. You jolted, hands trembling when he bent down, picking it up with careful fingers. You didn’t want him to touch it, he shouldn’t be touching it. That book belonged in V’s hands, his voice murmuring the gentle lines of William Blake’s poetry. You could feel it now, creeping into the tangled mess of emotion in your mind, that one thing you hadn’t felt so potently in a long...long time.

Fury.

You felt it worming its way into your skull, only slightly. The faintest hints of rage, carried on a cold breeze and mingling with the other terrible things inside, becoming acquainted. How could this have happened, how could V do this to you? Was...any of it really? The love, the affections, his kind words...or was it all just a tool to keep moving forward, your energy his only means of getting back to Urizen?

You didn’t want to doubt, not like this. Not now, when things were bad enough. But it existed there, in your mind, wrapping around you like a forceful embrace. To be used and abused for so long, and now discovering the person you loved may have done the same...it was shattering, something you didn’t want to accept. It couldn’t be true, could it? You thought you knew that wasn’t the case, but what the hell did you know anymore. All this situation proved was that you knew nothing.

Dante was the first to speak into the silence stretching in the air, finding his voice much easier than you. Hell, there was nothing in your mind you could formulate into a sentence at that moment that made sense. The devil hunter was on a mission, one that was much clearer than yours now, and his tone definitely showed it. Filled with a low warning, growing in intensity as he regarded the tall, surly-looking male before him.

“Ya got some pretty big cojones for comin’ back,” He growled, eyes narrowing a second before he startled sprinting at his brother, voice growing louder as he raised his sword for an attack, “Just don’t know when to give up, do ya?!”

You felt yourself tense up, not sure how the other male would respond to such a head on assault from Dante. It was far too sloppy, even for him. His mind wasn’t in the right place, not with everything going on.

Vergil was not fazed.

You watched, that hollow ache in your chest growing when Vergil twitched, easily blocking the hit with a flick of his Yamato. He flipped it around in a precise movement, sending the sword’s sheath hard into Dante’s stomach. It happened so fast, almost elegant in his movements. Even when Dante took the object and hurled it right back. It slid onto the sword once more, pushing Vergil back with a low grunt and a dark glare. What a look he wore, annoyance now tracing the lines of his brow and mouth, those eyes glinting in disdain. You couldn’t understand it, how V came from this person, or why.

Nothing made sense.

Dante fell back, looking frustrated and panting heavily as he shook off the blow. You saw him lock gazes with Nero, a snarl passing over his lips as he started forward again.

“Get out of my way, Nero!” He shouted, despite the fact that Nero wasn’t making any movements to stop him.

But the boy stepped back, closer to your side as he watched everything unfold in absolute perplexion. You couldn’t blame him, especially considering you didn’t have the faintest idea of how to process anything you were feeling. How were you supposed to stand, to feel, to recover? Your throat felt raw and dry, body cold and on the verge of shivering. You still weren’t over what happened, what your Deity had done to you. It was a breach of your trust, one that was invasive and wrong and...so many things, too many things to pick apart. It left you feeling violated, betrayed--the one person who had guided you for so long just forcibly held you down and made you watch your world collapse. What were you supposed to do?

Nero glanced down at you, seeing the absolute vulnerability in your expression without fail this time. You felt him wrap an arm around your waist, making you jolt a little bit in surprise as you finally gazed up at him. He looked concerned for you, guilt and sadness in his expression as he took in all the grief in yours. There was no doubt Nero knew exactly what you were feeling in that moment, and he didn’t know what to do.

He pulled you to your feet, helping to keep you steady as the men continued their little spat. You flickered your eyes back to them, watching in shock as Vergil practically teleported into Dante’s next attack, the loud clang of metal on metal echoing in the room. You took another step back, stumbling a bit but held up by Nero’s arm. What the hell were they doing? What did this little fight solve? They were in a test of strengths now, sword against sword and creating sparks in their wake. Dante was anger, hot and stubborn whereas Vergil was cold, calm and poised. Polar opposites, like a cat and a dog.

It shocked you when Vergil spoke, his voice sending a jolt of trepidation down your body where it settled in your stomach, making you sick. That was not the voice of V, not even close. His tone, honeyed and warm like a caress. And Vergil’s…

Cold, higher in pitch and completely incomparable.

“Defeating you like this...has no meaning.” He stated, lips curling into something akin to a smile and eyes glinting with the light from their swords.

But Dante wasn’t going to let up. He was straining, small grunts leaving his lips and shoulder muscles twitching in his attempt to push back against his brother’s advance.

“Come on Vergil,” He rumbled, tone low and filled with stubborn determination, “Let’s do this!”

But...why? Why did they need to fight? You didn’t understand. It was like the air around them was charged, two energies clashing and making your hair stand on end. You didn’t like the sensation, especially not the one Vergil brought with him.

Please. I just want V back.

I don’t understand. I don’t understand anything.

“Heal your wounds, Dante. Get strong,” Vergil replied to his brother’s commands, looking far more calm and steady. Devoid of an emotion but smug, cold satisfaction, “After that, we’ll settle the matter.”

He whipped the sheath of the Yamato around, knocking Dante’s legs out from under him as he brought the sword itself down. Steel clanged against each other, sending up another cloud of sparks. Dante blocked the attack, the force sending him sprawling back into an ungraceful slide. Frustration made its home in the demon hunter’s expression, the man staring incredulously at his brother like what he said was the opposite of what he expected. You didn’t know what bad blood the two shared, or why. Years of conflict had to lead to this moment, bitterness running deep in their veins and harsh words seeming to be the only thing they could spout.

You lifted your gaze, watching as Vergil left his fighting stance. He lifted his sword, turning his back on the three to slash an x into the air--glowing indigo lines formed where he did, leaking an ethereal smoke. What in the world was he doing? Your shoulders started trembling again, the Void power setting into a dangerous, warning swirl with how your emotions were beating against the walls of your head. This man hadn’t once looked into your eyes, acknowledged you, or showed any sign of noticing you there at all. There was so much you wanted to say, to ask, but your body seemed locked in that location, frozen by indecision.

V is a part of this man, he who is nothing like the man you love.

Please, I’m so lost. I don’t know what to do.

You watched as the lines he cut opened, revealing a dark, ominous purple of a swirling portal. It clicked with you immediately that he was intending to make his leave, that sword serving as a means to move between spaces--there was a lot that the Yamato could do that you didn’t understand. Lips parted, you tried to say something, whatever would ease the ache even a little bit. But your tongue was practically frozen to the roof of your mouth. Did you have any right to say anything, to ask anything? So much of this felt wrong, like it wasn’t real.

Vergil took a single step toward the portal he created, pausing briefly to turn his head. You saw his lips part, face shifting from the smug, coldness to something much more calm. What was he doing? He looked over his shoulder at the boy next to you, his expression calm and neutral.

“Thank you, Nero.” He stated simply, meeting Nero’s confused gaze for a brief moment.

Before his eyes shifted ever so slightly to you.

You didn’t know what to expect--maybe recognition, or guilt, or some sign of your poet being inside this stranger you didn’t know. You couldn't imagine what he would see in your face, maybe vulnerability, hurt, and despair. But...that didn’t matter, and you received no such thing from this man. His expression didn’t shift, showing no sign of anything as his grayish-blue perception graced your face. And that was all he spared...a single passing glance, no words, no explanations...nothing. He turned in the next instant, not acknowledging you in any other way as he took another step into the portal, intending to enter it and be on his merry way.

The emotions inside you broke, coiling tighter and tighter until they snapped like a cheap rubber band.

It was all too much. It overwhelmed you, every barrier shattering under the weight of your pain, despair, and anger. So much anger. You couldn’t control your body, and you could scarcely care.

You don’t get to do that to me.

You don’t get to just come into people’s lives and hurt them.

You don’t get to walk away.

Thousands of tendrils snapped out of your form in an instant, sending Nero sprawling back as your launched forward, so fast a crack whipped out into the air. Your Void power raged inside, spiking out in all directions with your volatile emotions and mixing with the fierce, roaring agony of your Foresight. Stop Stop Stop! Your ability was screaming at you, pounding against you in waves that told you this action was by far the worst you could do, something that would have negative effects. But you didn’t care. You couldn’t care. This pain was of little consequence, your mind in a frenzy far too great to stop yourself anymore.

You would take this pain, and turn it into power.

None of the three men expected your attack. Vergil only turned at the sound you released, barely managing to lift his katana in enough time to block himself.

You slammed into him, tendrils lashing out in all directions like uncontrollable whips as you pressed against the sheath of the sword, pinning Vergil to the ground. The impact was so hard it cracked the floor beneath him, a grunt escaping his lips. Had it been a normal human, you could have broken his back doing that. But Vergil was no garden variety, every day human being. The portal behind him was mere inches away, the swirling, ominous purple illuminating you both in this struggle, locked in your own contest of strength.

He had the good graces to look surprised--he was gritting his teeth, shocked emotions flashing briefly in his eyes before being replaced by cold disdain. You were panting, eyes black and hair raising with the crackling, burning energy flickering over your skin. No more, no more holding back, no more biting your tongue. You had enough of these games, of the lies, of the pain. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair. You tried so hard, sacrificed so much only to be the only left aching in the end.

I gave everything only to be treated like nothing again.

The thought alone made your power spike, nausea rising in your stomach and leaving you with the taste of whale oil in your mouth. You heard Dante and Nero gasp, watching as your power display grew, tendrils turning an inky black and slamming into every available surface they could find. You were out of control, you couldn't stop. Not anymore.

“Y/N!” Dante yelled, trying to run at you but fifty tendrils whipped out, knocking against his sword and sending him flying back. You didn’t even look at him, eyes locked on Vergil’s as you gripped the Yamato’s sheath, the claws of your gauntlet digging in. Each breath was like ice, the cold chilling you all the way to your fingertips. Where the black, sharp claws cut in dark crystal started to form, slowly spreading over the sheath.

I don’t care. I don’t care I don’t care.

I cared too much.

“You…!” Your voice was a raw hiss, vibrating with your power as tendril after tendril slammed into his sheath, “You don’t just get to do that…!”

Vergil let out a low grunt, glaring hard at you and pressing the heel of his boot against your stomach, trying to peel you off. If he thought that measly pain would stop you, he was gravely mistaken.

You don’t get to just make me love you then take everything.

“Foolishness.” Vergil ground out from between his teeth, not breaking his gaze with you and shoving the Katana back hard. More tendrils slammed down, holding you in place and refusing to budge. More and more, slamming into the ground, walls, ceiling. It was so loud, everything was so loud and chaotic but you couldn’t muster an ounce of caring. It hurt, everything hurt so much.

You hurt me.

The howl of the Void started to grow around you, filling this room of the Qliphoth until you felt like you were back in the Void. For every movement you made, the pain only grew in spades. It grew and grew until you felt like you were on fire, choking back a hoarse scream of agony and swallowing it whole. You refused to yield, not now. Not when everything was so raw, painful.

“You don’t get to just hurt people and walk away like its nothing…!” You snarled in his face, hands trembling as you pushed and pushed your power to the limit. You were starting to exert, finally after all this time. No longer replying on the rune to save you, “Where is he?! Where is V?!”

You are not him. There is no way someone like him can be inside someone like you.

There must be a mistake, or a lie.

Vergil narrowed his eyes at your words, lips curling in a snarl of disdain. You thought you saw something flicker in his eyes, taking in your trembling form above him, but it was gone too fast to identify it.

Your power was growing out of control, the strain of using so much energy making black veins appear under your skin. You shuddered, fighting the urge to retch as more whale oil bubbled into your throat.

I won’t stop. I won’t. I don’t care anymore.

“If you were wise, you would back down now,” Vergil hissed, fingers gripping the sheath of his sword so hard you heard the material groan under the strain, “This doesn’t concern you.”

His words made you suck in a breath, blood boiling further and sharp breaths leaving your parted lips. He didn’t get to just do that, to disregard everything you had done and all that you felt. Was there no hint of V in this man? No memory of you, of what you shared? The thought of every trace of your poet being lost made you want to scream, to destroy more, to fight until you were a husk on the ground with no power left. You were crumbling, unable to hold anything back and unable to stop.

The Void energy snapped out from your body, creating fissures along the ground where rats began to materialize around you. It was an ability you knew was available, but you never used it. Not once. Even now, it wasn’t happening by choice--you couldn’t control yourself, the energy wildly lashing out in whatever way it could. You heard Dante and Nero let out noises of shock and alarm, unable to make heads or tails of what was happening around you.

You were coming undone.

“Why?” You whispered to the man beneath you, eyes filled with every ounce of pain you felt as you stared at his cold face, “Just tell me why…!”

Just tell me something.

Anything.

But Vergil had no explanations to give you. He sucked in a breath, releasing it in a sharp huff and narrowing his eyes on your face. A low growl rumbled in his chest, filled with warning as he still refused to break contact with your eyes. Somehow...that was even worse. To have no guilt, no shame, no remorse. To have nothing.

But something was there, a knowing look in those icy orbs as he took in your condition. You couldn’t imagine what you looked like.

“Stand down now.” He commanded, tone still a low growl as he pressed back harder and harder. He tilted his head, leaning his face closer to yours as the sheath pressed against your heaving chest. You didn’t quite know what you expected him to say. Maybe more commands for you to back off, something condescending or rude. But what came out of his mouth hit you like a blow to the chest.

“You know as well as I that you don’t have the energy to take me…Sparrow.”

Your eyes flew open in shock, every part of you coming to a startling halt at that nickname uttered on his lips. Vulnerability hit you like a freight train, all concentration lost and brain scrambling in pain and grief. No no no...he didn’t get to just do that, to say that. He didn’t get to just fucking do that...!

He knew.

He knew what V called you.

Your poet had uttered that name, spoken in soft, adoring tones and hushed lips. While making love, while sharing a kiss and while baring his soul to you. Hearing Vergil say it to you now…

It broke you.

The male took advantage of your vulnerability, snapping the katana up and sending you flying back. You choked on your yelp of pain, tendrils too unstable to break your fall or help you. They disappeared the instant your rage broke, turning into black crystal and snapping off from your velocity. It hurt, it hurt so much it was unbearable--both from your emotional distress and the backlash of the Void.

Exerting yourself so much and  fighting against the Foresight to that extend had wrecked your body. The nausea was unbearable, limbs barely able to move and breaths feeling like ice whenever you wheezed in. When was the last time you had exerted like this, to a point so terrible you felt on the verge of collapse?

Nero leapt to your aid, cushioning your fall and catching you so there was no impact. He skidded, a huff of air leaving his chest as he came to a halt, holding your limp form. The instant you were no longer in motion, you stopped being able to hold back the bile. You doubled over, retching up whale oil that splattered onto the ground near your feet. Disgusting, unbearably so. The neon blue glow was a stark contrast on the dark, bloody red of the Qliphoth flesh. You breathed shakily, slumping in Nero’s grasp and pressing a hand to your mouth. It was too much, it was too much to handle anymore.

Nero was panicking, that much you could tell. He held you up entirely, metal arm firm around your waist and the other at your shoulders.

“Y/N…!” He gasped, settling on one knee to hold you up, “You need to stop…! Your body can’t take much more of this…!”

You didn’t care. You couldn’t.

You wearily lifted your gaze, just in enough time to see Vergil slip the Yamato back into the sheath. He looked no worse for wear, body showing no sign of being hurt by your tendrils. You started to tremble again, the sensations heightened by the name he dared to call you, one that was so unbelievably painful. How dare he do that, how dare he take something that mattered so much and fling it at you in disdain? Had Nero not been holding you back, you would have bolted at him again, hands shaking with the desire of it.

He didn’t say anything more. He merely turned, clicking his tongue once before finally stepping into the portal he had formed. Leaving. Heaving gasps left you, teeth clenching as you watched the purple swallow him, the space closing as soon as he was out of sight and leaving no trace of the man who hurt you so terribly. You realized a bit belatedly that the book V owned was now gone--Vergil had taken it with him. Something about that only served to make things worse, the anger pounding harder and louder on your skull. A skull that was already throbbing in pain.

I can’t take this anymore.

Nero was panting behind you, body forcing you to turn so he could look at you now that Vergil was gone. You couldn’t meet his gaze, unable to lift your head at all now that the fight was draining, leaving numbness again. What were you supposed to do, to feel? Two people in your life that you trusted, that you thought cared about you had betrayed you within the same time span of each other. Who could you trust now?

You can’t think like that. You can’t.

You can’t let them take more.

“Are you alright?” Nero asked quietly, brow furrowed with concern as he put his hands on your shoulders. You could even feel Dante looking at you, carefully walking over from where he stood.

You were far from okay, vulnerability playing on the edges of your mind and mingling with the despair and heartbreak. But no amount of wording or explaining would convey that.

“...No,” You whispered, wiping the whale oil from your mouth with the back of your hand. Your voice sounded unfamiliar even to you, tired and broken as you continued quietly, “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Nero’s hands squeezed you, offering comfort in any way he could. Honestly what could he say? Nothing could make up for what had happened, and no words would soothe the turmoil inside.

Still, he spoke, tone softer and more regretful than you had ever heard it, “ God damn it...I’m sorry, kid. We’ll figure shit out, we’ll…” He trailed off, struggling to find the words to articulate his thoughts. You were grateful he was at least trying, at the moment he was all you had in way of comfort. You missed V, the betrayal and hurt so heavy you felt like drowning. And worse...you missed Griffon, Shadow, and Nightmare. What had happened to them, where had they gone? Losing them on top of losing V was...devastating.

You wanted them back so bad you could cry.

Dante said nothing to you, but his eyes were on your face. You could feel it. You didn’t want to know what the devil hunter thought of you, how this affected him too. You had feelings for V, which was apparently a part of his brother, the very same brother whose other half tried to kill everyone more than once. You knew nothing of the circumstances between the two, but judging by his previous words Vergil had been less than kind to him in the past. Why beat around the bush? You were passionate with V, devoted, deeply in love with him. And now none of him remained.

“You both should get out of here,” Dante sighed, turning away and making both you and Nero look up to see him start walking away, “Get back to the van, I’ll handle things from here.”

Nero did not like that one bit, and neither than you.

He stood, moving toward Dante faster than you could will your legs to move. Especially with how weak you were.

“Wait just a second…!” He snapped, annoyance peppering his tone as he jogged to catch up with Dante, “If that’s your brother, what happened to V?!”

He still didn’t realize yet, still hadn’t connected the dots. You felt like you were about to collapse, standing on wobbly legs and gagging at the feeling of whale oil still lingering in your throat. Disgusting, you felt absolutely trashed. Hearing Nero just say V’s name made your eyes squeeze shut, trying to hold back another rippling wave of pain. You didn’t want to hear this anymore, there was no desire in you to talk or prattle on about what happened. You were guessing Vergil went back to the top of the tree, so that’s where you intended to go.

You wouldn’t be stopped.

The Foresight in your stomach flared out again at the thought, making your teeth grind and a hand snake down to hold your abdomen. Agonizing, like being stabbed over and over from the inside. It was warning you to back off, to mind your own business. But you were far past that now.

Return home. The whispers of the Void were lingering in your ears, quiet but firm in their requests, Return to us. He demands it.

You couldn’t give a fresh fuck about what “He” demanded anymore.

“He returned,” Dante replied to Nero, making your gaze lift to tiredly stare at them both, “To himself.”

Nero squinted at the older man in confusion, eyes darting between Dane and where Vergil once stood. He still didn’t know, he didn’t understand exactly what was going on...and maybe that was for the best.

“Go home Nero,” Dante continued, walking away with a low sigh under his breath and a heaviness to his step. Limping, the fight with Vergil taking a lot of of him, “This doesn’t concern you.”

Bad choice of words, the worst ones in fact.

Nero went on the defensive in an instant, an incredulous look in his eyes as he started after Dante again, “Like hell…! I lost my right arm because of him…!”

You struggled to keep up with them, measuring your steps and pressing the heel of of your palm to your temple. God, your head was throbbing, on the verge of dizziness. You wished they would slow down.

“This is not your fight. I need to stop him, and that’s all that matters.” Dante replied simply, not turning or stopping in the slightest.

This conversation was going nowhere.

Nero only sounded more angry, his tone taking on a bitter, mocking edge as he snarls, “I’m not gonna let you have all the fun, Dante…!”

Now that got the devil hunters attention, making him turn on his heel and that calm air leaving him in an instant. Seeing him angry was jarring, a far cry from his usual lazy, bemused demeanor. You felt something begin to snap, the air growing thick with energy again. You paused when they did, sucking in a breath at the look on Dante’s face. Jaw clenched, eyes sharp and frustrated. You were a few feet away from them, trying to gather yourself and find the strength to move and go after his brother. Would they noticed if you just walked away?

You contemplated it.

“You don’t get it!” Dante snapped, leveling his sword on the ground and glaring at Nero’s face in absolute exasperation.

Nero scoffed, tone growing more and more bitter than before as he replied, “Lemme guess, I’m dead weight? You can shove that--”

“That’s not it, Nero!” Dante’s voice was growing louder, both of them were.

This argument was going somewhere, it was about to go off like a bomb, and you didn’t have the patience for it.

“What is it then?!” Nero yelled back, more forcefully than you had ever heard him, hands balled up into fists.

“He’s your father…!”

...Excuse me?

That made your thoughts halt completely in their tracks, eyes going wide and all the air halting in your lungs. If what you were feeling before was bad, this revelation was like an extra kick to the face, far more shocking than you could image it to be. Vergil...Vergil was his father? Nero’s father? Your stomach started doing flips, hands shaking and breaths starting to come short and fast. An eerie silence took up space in the air, making the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as you tilted your head, looking at Nero’s form once the realization really started settling in. This was...too much, even for you. Shocking, undeniably so.

But you couldn’t imagine what it would do to Nero.

To grow up without family, without a mother and father, only to find out now that it existed...you could practically feel his shock, the boy taking a step back away from Dante. Your need to comfort others kicked in, overriding your own shock, grief and pain for a moment as you stared worriedly at your friend. This was too much, he didn’t deserve to learn like this. His own father had ripped off his fucking arm? To be put through all that pain, forced to suffer and adapt how he did only to find out his own flesh and blood committed the atrocity?

This was why Dante was so reluctant to include Nero in anything, wasn’t it?

“...What?!” Nero hissed, breath coming shakily now as he stared at Dante’s face. You couldn’t see his expression, but you could imagine how he must have looked.

You could, however, see Dante’s.

There was regret there in his eyes, all the fight draining out of him as he lowered his head a bit. This was a secret Dante had to have been sitting on for a long time, why he was so hellbent on keeping Nero from fighting Urizen...fighting his own father. The guilt and grief that simmered within his eyes made you want to cry on Nero’s behalf, especially considering how much he looked up to Dante, wanted to help him. The devil hunter was his uncle, they were family. You could only imagine how much that hurt.

Dante was trying to protect him.

“I had a feeling, the first time I saw you, but I just wasn’t sure,” Dante replied, stepping past Nero as he spoke, recalling memories of the past and taking on a faraway look. He turned back to Nero, expression far more serious than you were used to as he added, “And then I saw how the Yamato reacted...and I was certain.”

He was referring to when Nero acquired the sword--When it absorbed into his Devil arm all those years ago, back during the conflict between them and the Order of the Sword occurred in Fortuna. You remembered Nero’s tales of the events, how he explained the sensation of taking the Yamato into himself and learning how to use it. But of course he could--he was Vergil’s kin, the sword would have been able to recognize any trace of its owner in the white haired boy. That was the first indication of what was to come, but you and Nero were lacking in too much information to see it.

“He’s your father.” Dante said quietly, tone firm and absolutely resolute. Zero hesitations.

Nero’s silence broke volumes, your ears easily picking up on the labored breathing coming from his lips. He was trying to hold himself together, he was trying to stand under the weight this information wrought.

You both had something to ache about tonight.

“Now he needs an ass-kicking,” Dante continued, patting Nero lightly on the back, “But I can’t have you go and kill your old man.”

With that...Dante seemed to be done.

He walked away again, heading out of a tunnel entrance into the room out of sight with no glances behind him. Leaving you and Nero alone, both struggling to keep yourself from falling apart under the days events. You didn’t know what to do, what to say, how to help. How could you aid Nero now, drowning and barely able to hold your head above the water? To try and save another who was drowning as well...surely you would only make it worse? It was the blind leading the blind, and you didn’t want to cause Nero any more pain.

But...you couldn’t just do nothing. Especially not when Nero turned his head, staring at where Vergil was standing before and now allowing you to see his expression. The look he wore, so vulnerable and heart-broken...it made you freeze, eyes burning with tears as you saw a little boy in him, for a moment. One who had just wanted a family, but was now forced to deal with the consequences that came with having one. He looked conflicted, confused, hurt. All the things you felt but on a completely different spectrum.

When his mouth opened, he uttered in a quiet, emotionally raw tone, “My father…?”

You moved then, unable to stop yourself.

It was probably the last thing he wanted, or needed, but the pain in his voice was just too much to bear. You limped over to him, wrapping your arms around him from behind in a hug and feeling him suck in a sharp breath at the act. There was nothing else you could do, you had nothing left. It hurt so terribly, this burden you both shared in this moment of pain. He was your friend, one of the closest you had ever had, and you couldn’t stand to see him suffer too.

You deserved better than this.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, pressing your forehead to the back of his coat as you counted his shuddering breaths, “Nero...I am sorry...You will get through this. You will.”

You must. One of us has to.

Nero didn’t say anything, but he also didn’t move away. You only felt him let out a slow breath, his head lowering as silence stretched between you both, one of his hands gripping onto your wrist and lightly squeezing. His only show of support to your actions with him not being able to speak. It was enough, just enough to let you know what was on his mind.

And it was all you could do, to stand there for a moment with your friend, offering the only comfort you could while you both tried to pick up the pieces Vergil had left in his wake.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136193/chapters/44633836

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Tagged: @nightshadow4713 @silentwhispofhope @slightlylunatic @just-call-me-no-name @efiicitia @raven-huntress

#devil may cry v #devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #dmc5 #dmc v #V dmc #V x reader #v x self insert #spirit writes fanfic #fanfic #chapter 25 #Ebony and Ivory #ebony and ivory chapter 25 #vergil

[demonslayvr]

ARISE ;  for you are reborn into something greater.   ARISE    baricontralto angelo - fight.  ( post dmc 5 div. nelo angelo dante v  )

HE HAD BEEN COCKY.    the cambion had been cocky upon returning back with his twin from the underworld   ;   cocky that with his twin that nobody could beat them if they simply worked together.  and he was right.  he was right up until he was wrong and time,  well  . .  time wasn’t kind.    it had been nine months   since their return from the underworld from cutting down the qliphoth and in that time a   familiar blue amulet   found itself back in dante’s possession.  it had been lost for several decades,  having been lost to the boy during the day he had come home to find gavreel and the family slaughtered on the lawn.

he kept it close,  he knew the meaning   --  he knew that there was   peace   again but  .  .  he knew the danger of once again having this but would not dare get rid of it   --  he’d ride the coaster until it stopped.  he’d be happy to have this shred of happiness and he felt he was finally allowed to have something   --   happy to have his brother back and have some semblance of family.

that was,  well,  until he   lost   the amulet.  he didn’t notice that he did,  believing it was still in pocket during a small run in with demons  ;  a job that he had taken alone   --  it seemed that fate was playing her hand that day.   it had been dropped during an evasion and was lost upon his shift ahead   --  he didn’t even spot it.  the job became less easy,  it tiring him considerably as the  small group   of demons became larger   --   and while it was initially a challenge   . . 

it soon became taxing.  as the larger the numbers the more exhausted the demon hunter became,  the more he started to slip up.

it was only then did he realize that this was no job.  it was a   trap   and he was caught in a net he couldn’t tear himself from.  a familiar feeling emerged,  one he   hadn’t felt   for decades.  a demonic force that he had thrown fury at that same time.  he hadn’t been this week before.  he knew who this was and   . .   he was in trouble.  this trap had been calculated and he had fallen into it hook,  line and sinker.

the distraction of the feeling,  of the demonic energy rising in the space leaves him vulnerable  --  attacks slicing at his back,  his arms and legs   --   a lucky slash to his throat leaves him struggling and gripping his throat.   he hits his knees before he realizes he does  ;  he ultimately   ---   unintentionally   ---   bows    to the demon king before he passes out,  demonic weapons and claws slashing into his back.

the next   redacted years   in the demon world are a nightmare that  post   angelo dante would have trouble remembering for all that happened are buried deep in repressed memories.  the years blur together,  but dante holds for a long time  --  dante suffers,  he burns,  he aches,  he struggles    --   he perseveres.  for a time anyway.   he recalls and holds onto the trade out  . .  that this could have been   vergil   here instead of he.  last minute changes,  bouts of laughter as he accepted the job and ran out the door.  

see you soon   he had said.  but the jovial air had long past.  memories begin to muddle,  to ebb and fade in and out as things became foggy.  a struggle to remember  --   a struggle to fight but   . .   not all fights can be won.  this one eventually was lost. 

out of years of torturous pain and bloodshed arose a new pet,  a puppet that was loyal and true.  one that slaughtered doppelganger after doppelganger of brother and self,  of friends and allies that the king knew that the former knew.  he was satisfied that his little puppet would do just fine.  that perhaps he could lure in his old   ;   have the complete set  --  for use of the younger did fine in breaking the elder. 

this soldier has two forms  ;  one that fed to his devil trigger  (   generic nelo angelo  --  not much power is used for it  --  basically it’s dante on the regular tapping into demonic power with his first devil trigger.  he’s stronger than normal,  having given into his addiction to human and demon blood and grown more powerful because of it   )   

and another that feeds into his   sin   devil trigger   (   essentially the  ‘  dragon  ‘  -  esque look.  however its almost imperfect in how the black scales have become the darkish red  /  brown  ;  something not quite right.  scales do fall off without warning from time to time,  revealing a near lava like flow underneath.   )   

baricontralto  . .  a name to be used to not arouse suspicion  ;   a soldier that would destroy armies and bring cities to their knees in the name of his master.   time would be swift for the pawn to be used,  for the king himself was pleased.  he was cocky with his new toy  . .   and it wasn’t long before he was to be used   . .  

#{ : ) chefs kiss } #🔥 // all these demon arms and only two arms to hold them in ( save ) #🔥 // arise ; for you are reborn into something greater. arise baricontralto angelo - fight. ( post dmc 5 div. nelo angelo dante v ) #🔥 // i'm here because a jackass devil dragged me in kicking and screaming. howdy demons its ya boy ! ( mun )

[dnightshade720-blog]

V is for Vergil

16 years after the events of Devil May Cry One, Vergil awakens in the ruins of Mallet Island only to find his demonic half fighting for control over his body. Knowing that the only way to terminate the evil within him for good was for him to die, Vergil begins to search for his birthright; Yamato

Arriving once again in Fortuna, Vergil hunts down and eventually  meets Nero who he quickly reclaims Yamato from, careful not to kill him in the process, and uses the sword to transport himself back to Mallet Island.

Back at Mallet Island, Vergil doesn't hesitate to stab himself in the heart, accepting his fate as punishment for all his wrong doings. But his plan back-fires as the sword doesn't kill him, but instead splits his very soul in-two, separating his demonic-half from his human-half. Vergil wakes up in a weaker, younger body only to be face to face with his corrupt devil trigger; Nelo Angelo. With an intense craving for more power, Nelo flies off. Vergil realizes what he has just unleashed onto the world and, with the magic that he managed to keep, revived Mundus lieutenants; Griffon, Nightmare, and Shadow. Sharing a great amount of hatred for their former master, the 3 demons agree to help Vergil take his devil-half down.

Dressing himself in a way that no one would recognize him, along with transforming Yamato into a cane (Since he’s very physically weak), Vergil and his newest allies make their way towards Redgrave City where they learn that Nelo, which now refers to itself as Urizen, has raised a giant demonic tree in the center of the city, unleashing blood draining vines onto the residents. Vergil, calling himself V to further hide his identity, offers Dante a job to help him take down Urizen once and for all. Dante accepts, recruiting Lady and Trish to help out.

As they all head up the tree, Nero demands that Dante allow him to help even though he’s lost his devil bringer. Out of guilt, V convinces Dante to let Nero join them as they go to battle against Urizen.

They lose the first round however, resulting in Dante, Lady, and Trish’s capture. V and Nero narrowly escape and decide to come up with a different plan.

Expect Part Two sometime around late February

#devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #v devil may cry #vergil devil may cry #dante devil may cry #nero devil may cry #trish devil may cry #lady devil may cry

[myrecompense]

My Recompense || Main Verse

How events occurred from Mission 17+ Following on from V’s background. My Main Verse is merely one branch from this.

As V’s cane pierced into Urizen’s core, the essences of the two begin to merge, however the process was interrupted part-way by Dante who’d managed to get close enough to tackle V off Urizen. As the shock-wave blast from V’s actions struck, it propelled both V and Dante, tumbling them along the ground a distance.

Both sides were momentarily stunned from the crash. Bright blue light flashes from within the cracks of V’s skin, tattoos vanishing and his hair turning white briefly as his body restored, and he began to regain strength. V was still incomplete; Not Vergil, but certainly stable.

The Yamato lay on the ground between V and Dante, and at that realisation, both dive for the sword, with V being slightly closer and securing it. Holding it sheathed, V’s hair and tattoos return the signs of his familiar’s contract. The surrounding illusion of the Sparda family home began to shatter, and the remains of Urizen begin to boil down into a thick oozing puddle.

Unable to determine what sort of threat V now posed, Dante initiates an attack and verbalises his realisation of V’s identity. Nero is still in confusion. V blocks the attack but is, however, staggered and forced down to the ground. Nero comes to Dante’s side and the older devil hunter holds his blade pointed at his chest. V is forced to explain his actions leading them to this point while still processing what had just occurred within him himself.

Internally he could feel his will remained partially human. V could definitely feel some of his former tendencies as Vergil spurring him to try fight back and escape, but he knew logically that he would not be strong enough and suppressed the notion.

From the puddle of ooze rose another form, solidifying in the shape of a man. Vergil. As the transfer between V and Urizen had been enough to restore V’s form, so too apparently had it been to restore Vergil’s. Knowing Vergil would still be hostile towards them but still weak due both Dante’s and his own actions, V requests again that he be allowed to finish the fight himself, hoping for closure but Dante denies him, going to fight Vergil himself. V is allowed up and Both Vergil and Dante activate their Sin Devil Triggers in parallel and begin to duel once more. It would very quickly tip in Dante’s favour.

Nero walks forward intending to get involved, but the Yamato blocks his path. V tells him to stay back, and instead walks over himself, also collecting his cane on the way before opening a portal. Giving a familiar challenge salute that he knew Vergil would recognise from their time as Mundus’s servant, V passed through the portal, intending to lure Vergil away from Dante and Nero before his other half could be defeated. Vergil broke from combat, knowing he would need his full power to defeat Dante, and made chase after V with the portal closing behind them both.

Nero and Dante are left behind. Dante says he’s going to go finish off dealing with his brother and Nero again insists on helping to which Dante refuses to let him take part in, unsure himself yet as to what the outcome will be if he has to kill one or both parts of his brother. Stubbornly Nero tries again to which Dante finally snaps and explains: Vergil was Nero’s father. He briefly explained his suspicions before restating he would not allow Nero to be involved in what he had to do. Leaving the stunned Nero to find the rest of the DMC crew, Dante headed for the pinnacle of the Qliphoth where he sensed the others had gone.

At the top of the Qliphoth reaching high into the stratosphere, V and Vergil fought on fairly even terms. V had started with the advantage, retaining his familiars and wielding the Yamato. He could now dismiss his cane like a summoned weapon. Vergil was fighting unarmed and with his ghostly summoned swords. But when Vergil managed to disarm V of Yamato the power balance shifted slightly back to even. They were beginning to tire when Dante reached the top of the tree, interrupting the fight forcefully he tries to figure out what’s going on.

Restored to stability, V has concluded that the main threat to his survival is Vergil. They both sought power to protect themselves, and now that power was divided in two, Vergil was threatened, cornered and volatile.

While V still held his concern for the safety of the human world, it was not his first priority in this matter. He had come into his own being, and if he could defeat Vergil, then he would be safe. Like this, he wouldn’t have to re-merge with the other. His returning pride however would not allow him to let Dante confront Vergil for him. He had to resolve this himself.

Insecurities festering within Vergil from his returned human side reminded him how the world has always been set against him. With part of his power stolen and now residing in V, the by-product that was meant to waste away, now stood as his equal... Something he should have no right to. V was not a Son of Sparda. Vergil would destroy his other half and reclaim his full power as a perfected form of himself. Then he would fight Dante once more and fate would be what it may. It would be fair on his terms, and he would not lose. V and Dante would both die.

While both now existed in balance, V embodied Vergil’s pride and insecurity as a man, while Vergil was his pride and insecurity as a demon. Neither would allow Dante to finish the other off for that common thread that bound them. Dante attempted to convince them to stop by explaining Nero was their son, but although surprising, it only seemed to increase the resolve in both combatants.

As the fight resumed both warring for who would take the other down in their battle for survival, Dante attempted to stop them, however both combatants were determined to prevent further interference. Whenever Dante would attack either one of them, the other would block it so the fight remained fair between them. Whoever won, would win based on the agreement that they’d made when they passed through the portal.

Dante keeps on going in hopes he’s tire them out, but it would only ever be a temporary solution he knew his brother would never stay down for long. V and Vergil would continue this until Dante gave out and one claimed victory… And with the Qliphoth still growing its roots through the massive portal below, that didn’t mean good things for the human world.

Suddenly there’s an explosion and another flash of light, with the appearance of a fourth being, bursting from the ground and catching everyone off-guard. Separating all the combatants with his spectral wings and claws, Nero’s sudden appearance in his Devil Trigger form came as a surprise to all. He tossed them all apart to the ground. The devil within Vergil stirred in recognition of his son, unlike their previous encounters when his powers had not yet awoken... And that meant the boy’s experiences couldn’t be too dissimilar from his own. That bothered him.

Nero reverted to his human form, wings remaining however with their claws resting on his shoulders. Dante approaches again to try explain to Nero, but Nero’s not having any of it and sends him hurling to the ground again. Nero declares he wouldn’t allow any of them to kill each other, demanding another solution be found. While the proposition seems outlandish giving their shared family background, built on trust where there was little, it technically would solve both halves’ survival issues. The problem would be compliance with the agreement.

While it was agreeable to V and Dante, Vergil was less amenable towards it, still weary they would truly accept him. He issued a challenge: the price for his agreement. If he defeated Nero in combat, then he would be allowed to kill V and reclaim his full power without interference… However, as a demon that considered himself honourable, if he were defeated, he would accept the agreement. Dante doesn’t get a say in the bargaining, and V trusts his fate to Nero, nodding his permission.

The deal struck, battle ensues and in time, Nero is able to defeat Vergil, impressing his father with his strength. Dante is amused, but now in an agreed end of hostilities within the family, Nero draws their attention back to the Qliphoth. While he would stick to the agreement, Vergil maintained his pride claiming he could still fight however accepting the defeat wordlessly.

It was agreed after some argument on Nero’s part that they should all go, that only Dante and Vergil would deal with the Portal, leaving V and Nero to stay top-side to look after things in the human world. Dante leaps from the Qliphoth first as Vergil lingers looking back to V and Nero. A friendlier challenge is issued that they would duel again, and he wouldn’t lose next time before Vergil joins Dante headed for the Portal. V and Nero return to find the others, with V also giving Nero his book of poetry and explaining it had been his and Vergil’s, before they head to begin their next task of cleaning up all the stray lesser demons around Red Grave…

V now seeks to right the mistakes of his past and holds himself equally responsible to Vergil, the two bound in a parallel. But even with such intentions, bearing a list of sins so long, will he be able to find a means to pay his recompense?

#Part of me wants to write this out in actual full detail