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polarisbibliotheque · 2 years

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Dante gets drunk and confesses to his s/o that "everyone I love and who means something to me dies horribly" because he's a Son of Sparda. Next mission he comes back, emotionally drained and just depressed overall. Soon his s/o come over and after pampering with a warm bath, washing his hair, giving him love and the whole nine yards. He asks quietly, why? To which his s/o comments that whoever's gonna try to kill them, has gotta bring an army and tons of reinforcements. (1/2)

So, this one has been sitting on my asks for SO LONG, and now I finally got the time and inspiration to make it happen. This idea is so lovely to me, because I do believe some interesting things would happen with drunk Dante and Vergil - angsty ones and funny ones.

Therefore, this one will be the angsty. But do wait for the funny one, 'cause dear, now you inspired me to write drunk Dante and Vergil antics ;)

Thanks a lot for the ask and the ideas!! I hope you like how it turned out ^^

Dante & Vergil getting angsty drunk and their s/o comforting them

Pairings: Dante x Reader; Vergil x Reader

Summary: Drinking could bring either two things to the Spardas: fun or sudden visions that could open the Pandora's box inside their hearts. When that happened, you were the only one able to soothe the fear of losing their loved ones... Again.

WARNING: There's drinking as an unhealthy coping mechanism, the mention of the reader knowing someone who would turn to drinking and become completely different (not detailed) and in both stories, they have visions of their s/o, the reader, lifeless. It's stated exactly like that, but if this is something that bothers you or if you're sensitive to imagining that, I advise not reading this one. Next one will be more chill and upbeat!

Author's notes: I gotta say, I loved writing both of them. I picture their s/o a will powerhouse just like them, so there's a lot of that. Also, I listened to two songs in repeat while writing, I recommend listening to them! Never Fade Away (shdsky remix), by shdsky; and Burn, by The Cure.

They encapsule the heartwrenching feeling they have and I blame the angst and intensity from Vergil's on The Cure

Dante

Saying the Sparda family had no healthy way of expressing their feelings was a huge understatement.

Dante would constantly complain about Vergil – after all, most of their problems came from Vergil being extremely powerful and broken by the trauma of their past. If only he had gone to therapy, a lot would have been avoided – at least, that what Dante would say.

But it seemed like your red devil failed to see he himself needed therapy. You knew he was on a long path of healing – and a lot more healed than Vergil, who had just admitted he needed help and couldn’t be self-sufficient forever – but that didn’t mean Dante had already found a healthy way to cope with his inner demons.

Figuratively and literally.

When things got too bad, Dante drank to forget. But he also enjoyed drinking with you to have fun – he was all about keeping his mind occupied so he wouldn’t let the quietness settle in and let the demons come out from the dark, creeping towards him with their silent fingers and taking a hold of his heart.

That night, it had started for fun. He didn’t keep too much alcohol in the shop, but he always had an emergency bottle of whisky laying in his desk’s drawers.

“Well, well, have I ever told you how beautiful you are…?” His cheeks were flushed, and flirty Dante mode was on. He sat by your side on the couch, keeping one of his arms around your shoulders and his nose a little bit too close to your face.

You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling at that goof.

“A thousand times, Casanova.” You answered, trying to get a little distance in to look into his beautiful sky-blue eyes. Dante observed you with adoration and a sincere smile on his lips, as if every word you said sounded like the most crystalline and new music note he had ever heard. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are here?” As you asked, you touched his chest, above his heart. Dante’s adoration just seemed to grow, as if you had never touched him in your whole lives. “I love the entirety of you, but your soul… Your soul is brilliant, red devil.”

“Sheesh, babe, if ya keep talkin’ like that, I’ll get all flustered!” Despite his words, Dante leaned on your head, touching your forehead with his. He always got giggly and didn’t quite understand personal space when drunk.

Not that you cared – Vergil, in the other hand, always threatened to stab his inconvenient brother. Used to being around him, it wasn’t a nuisance to you.

“I don’t think you can ever get flustered, big guy!” You laughed back, rubbing your nose on his – that made Dante’s heart only beat faster. “But I mean it. Your soul is the kindest I’ve ever met. I love you endlessly, Dante.”

Your words met his ears in a whisper, still smiling as he kept his forehead leaned on yours. Dante’s heart, though, trembled with a thousand different feelings that, if he was sober, he’d know how to control.

As you left for a quick break to the bathroom, he poured himself another shot of whisky – seeing how the bottle was getting to an end. Dante lost count of how many days he drank bottles and bottles of whisky on his own, trying to forget his past, to let go of all the things that happened to him.

He didn’t see that kindness, that brilliant soul you saw in him.

You talked of him as if he was an angel, but Dante knew he was far from that – a literal half demon, bursting in anger with spiked wings and red fiery horns when he couldn’t restrain that animal inside him any longer. He had learnt to control it – and Dante controlled his demon with all his might, hating that part of himself.

Nevertheless, you saw something else. You saw the human in him, but you also loved the demon. And he couldn’t understand how – he knew it was the same way his mother fell for his father, but… Still. Dante couldn’t see all the beauty you saw.

His whole existence was cursed – a foul curse that ran in his veins, that came from his blood. The blood of Sparda. That was the reason for so much death, so much suffering. His father was a savior to humankind, the one who protected the world from demons and Mundus, but he had paid with cursing his name for eternity – bringing only pain and death to those who associated with it.

Eva died. Nell died. People who had relationships with him in whatever way died. He lost count of how many times he saw Vergil die – or even killed him with his own hands. Dante lost everything, over and over and over again. It was as if that night his house caught on fire and all he knew crumbled in flames and blood repeated itself every time Dante found his heart allowing himself to feel safe and welcomed – to feel a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be cursed until he died.

But then, it would all drown in blood and dust.

As his lips got wet with the bitter taste of whisky, Dante saw something right in front of his eyes – too real, too dangerous.

The Devil May Cry in flames. Him sitting on the floor, blood all over his hands. Corpses of the demons you had slain together lying at his feet. You, laying between his legs, your head cradled on his chest, lifeless.

Once again, tears falling from his eyes as all he had built up until that moment burnt down until there was nothing left.

“Hey, Dante…? Dear, are you crying…?” Your voice snapped him out of it, making Dante shoot his glossy eyes back at you – barely noticing a tear running down his face.

It was the first time you saw him so terrified.

“What happened?” You immediately ran to him, sitting by his side on the couch and taking Dante’s calloused hands in yours. Whenever your mind got hazy with alcohol, you prioritized whatever your heart told you should be put first – and that usually was Dante. Just like him, the alcohol made it easier for your feelings to overflow.

“Hmmm nothin’, I… I just… Damn.” Dante sighed, shaking his head slightly and looking down. He was trying to get those images out of his mind – but the feeling of having you in his arms while both of you were engulfed in flames was too real for him to let go that easy. His hazy thoughts wouldn’t let it go – and his heart… Oh, his heart would scream in pain every time he saw a glimpse of losing you like that. Just like he lost everyone else. “I’m not… Shit…”

“Memories again?” You took one of your hands to lightly brush his face, finding his teary eyes under his white hair. You brushed his fringe away from the sky-blue sea that stared back at you, overflowing even more as your silky touch found the rough texture of his cheek – caressing him so carefully, as if Dante was but a precious, fragile crystal.

If you kept like that, you’d break his heart. Dante wasn’t sure whatever lied in his chest was strong enough to take all that gentleness – it could take violence, but it wasn’t used to such a loving touch.

“Yeah… Old and new, babe…” He allowed himself to rest his head on your hand, as you cradled him with nothing but care. He didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t think about losing you. All those years, Dante had nothing and now… You were everything. This time, if he lost anyone he loved again, he wouldn’t survive. Dante was sure – it would be impossible for his heart to recover from you.

“New…? From what…?” Your brows furrowed as you kept on caressing his face. It wasn’t the first time you saw Dante like that: anxiety attacks and flashbacks were very common on your relationship and, by now, you knew how to deal with them whenever Dante fell into the abyss. You were the only hand holding him tightly and making sure to pull him back up – the only one to stay there and go through hell alongside him. “Was it that hunt we had the other day…?”

“No, no… I…” Dante sighed again, unable to explain. It was so easy for him to let other feelings out his chest: happiness, anger, complacency… But those? He had no words for it. No matter how much he tried, Dante couldn’t bring himself to let out that horrible scene for you… No matter how much alcohol. “I got… Kinda of a flashback… Of somethin’ that didn’t happen.”

“Hmmm… Was it of something that has happened, but with different people?” You tried, noticing how his sky-blue eyes, adorned with the redness of the tears, shot up at you.

It wasn’t the first time you noticed Dante worried about something happening to you. He had vivid nightmares sometimes and once, before waking him up, Dante was tossing and turning, screaming your name and holding his pillow as tightly as he could. He whispered something along the lines of don’t leave me, and you had an idea of what was going on. As you woke him up, Dante held you close in real life, as if that was going to keep you safe and sound.

“I… Damn, y/n…” Once again, he looked down, sighing heavily and shaking his head. Tears fell on your hands, but you didn’t let go of his. Dante had to understand you would be there, through hell and high water. “Everyone I love, everyone who means something to me, die horribly. It has been like that ever since I was a kid, remember?”

He pointed at the portrait of Eva he kept on his desk. It was a rhetorical question, you knew, but you wanted to say you would never forget. It was part of who Dante was, and, inevitably, it was part of your life too. The day you decided to stay with him, was the day your paths intertwined – and now, they couldn’t be separated, by any power of Heaven or Hell.

You wished he understood that.

“I’m not this knight in shiny armor you say I am, babe.” Dante’s eyes were tortured, and he had a melancholic smile that didn’t fit on his lips. “I’m no angel. I’m a demon who will burn everything on my path, spittin’ anger and blood. I’m no good for anyone… And hell, I don’t wanna lose you. Not you.”

“You won’t, Dante. I’m here. No matter what you saw, I’m here.” You took him into your arms as his tears found no resistance anymore. Crying on your shoulders, Dante held you strongly against him – as if that could keep any harm away from both of you. “And you gotta understand, you’re so much better than you give yourself credit for, dear. There’s no one else I could love in this world the way I love you.”

That would be a long night.

With his hair soaked in blood, the red veins flowed down Dante’s face like tears.

It hadn’t been a simple job, but it wasn’t a difficult one either. Dante had worse – but he also had better. He had been better. It seemed like the world had settled on his shoulders and it made his whole body heavier.

Good thing he didn’t have to carry Rebellion on his back anymore – or the walk back to the shop would have been a lot worse than it was.

His feet were practically dragging on the floor – not so much from his body being tired; the problem was his soul. Whenever those demons clutched his heart and mind, there wasn’t much Dante could do apart from going through it. Just like he did in Hell.

He couldn’t get that vision out of his head. The way you had felt in his arms as he cried with the fire engulfing both of you. Dante would have let himself be consumed by the flames – he wouldn’t fight anymore. Without you, he wouldn’t have the strength. Not this time.

Dante had always pushed through in his life – but now… Nero was around. He could protect humans in a much better way than he did. Lady and Trish could live quite well without him – Dante would argue even better than with him around. And Vergil… He had a lot to sort in his own heart. Dante believed without him, Vergil would turn to his demonic nature for good and never be seen again but…

He was tired.

Dante was tired of fighting. He had fought his whole life, tragedy after tragedy. It never seemed to get better, and he had to admit… He could only take so much. After so many years of holding his loved ones dead in his arms, Dante was getting to his limit.

If something happened to you, it would be the last straw. The last of his heart strings, breaking apart alongside with the string of your life.

Opening the door to the Devil May Cry, Dante managed to smile when he saw you sitting on his big chair, feet on the desk, magazine in your hands – just like him. He never thought his heart would grow so warm with something so trivial, but, like Eric Draven himself would say, nothing is trivial.

Losing y/n is just a matter of time.

That dreadful voice in the back of his head made sure to tell him that as you raised your eyes to Dante and smiled with a “hello babe”. Dante always lost everyone he loved. It was just a matter of time.

“Damn, you look like hell.”

“Yeah, those demons weren’t playin’ ‘round today.” Dante sighed back, lowering his head while kicking his boots off, in order to leave them by the door. They were covered in blood and dirt and that was rather annoying to clean – so you both created this rule of leaving shoes by the door.

“You need a shower.” As you left the magazine on the desk, you followed Dante with your smart eyes. He didn’t answer with his usual carefree voice – it was more of a strained tone. The tone of someone spiritually tired.

“Yeah, I know, babe…”

That was certainly out of character.

Without a word, you got up from your place and took Dante’s hand in yours. He stared at you, cluelessly for a while, before walking up the stairs alongside your steps.

He needed your help – and you’d be there for him.

“Babe… Don’t you think you spoiled me enough for today…?”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Dante remained shirtless, his wet hair occasionally dripping on his pants while you kneeled behind him and massaged the tense muscles of his back. His neck felt like a piece of wood, and you noticed how he groaned every time you ran your hands under his shoulder blades.

It felt like Dante didn’t know what relaxing meant for years.

“Hmmm. It’s never enough when it comes to you, Dante.” You had a calm smile on your lips, maintaining a soft tone to get him to relax. As your hands found another sore spot close to his neck, Dante groaned once more, lowering his head.

He couldn’t understand you. Dante would always believe wholeheartedly you could choose whatever wonderful life you wanted to have, but instead, you decided to doom yourself with him. Stuck in the Devil May Cry, until, inevitably, fire and destruction came to take you away.

You knew that. You knew how dangerous it was, how cursed he was. And, instead of running like any other sane human being, you decided to stay.

Not only stay, but shower his human and his devil with love. Dante would always be amazed by that.

“Why…?” Dante’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper. He wanted to hear from you, but he was also a little scared to know the answer. What if you stayed for reasons other than him?

You stared at his wet white hair for a while, still running your warm hands on his muscly back. Dante seemed to be the most confident man in the whole world, but he wasn’t afraid to show you how insecure he actually was. How scared. Dante had many demons in his head, and it took a while for you to build enough trust until he started to be so open about his darkest feelings.

And you knew what was going on inside his head. How he didn’t let go of the vision he had that day while you were drinking.

“Because my soul chose yours, Dante. It’s that simple.” You shrugged, still massaging his sore, marble back. “I’m not afraid of whatever curse you think is attached to your blood. I’m not afraid of dying from being with you. Whatever comes to threaten me better bring an army and tons of reinforcements, ‘cause I’m not going down that easy. You taught me to always keep fighting, and that’s what I’m gonna do.” With those words, you leaned closer to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and resting your head close to his, feeling how your body seemed so small glued to his towering shape. Dante immediately held your hands close to his heart, tilting his head in your direction. “Those demons better know I’m human. I won’t stand down and I’m going to do everything in my power to live a great life by your side, babe. I am not going to die horribly in the hands of whatever creature who wants to hurt you, and if they attack me, I’m going to bring them all down. I chose to be with you and there’s no power in any world that can take me away from you now. That’s a promise, Dante.”

You couldn’t see how much his lips were smiling or how his eyes were tearing, but you could feel it by the way Dante held your hands as if they were the last lifeline connecting him to the human world. You nuzzled his neck, doing your best to cuddle his body against yours.

“I love you, y/n.” His voice was like a secret, even though the whole world knew that from his heart. “You know that, right?”

“Of course I do.” You hugged him tighter, making him chuckle, even if just a little. “I love you too, Dante. That’s a promise too.”

As he intertwined his fingers with yours, Dante smiled. You weren’t one to break your promises.

Vergil

“Thanks for the ride, Lady. I owe you one.”

Stepping out of the bike, you gave Lady her spare helmet back as she winked in return.

“No worries, y/n! I might just transfer your debt to Dante!” Lady shrugged in a playful manner, making you laugh as you opened the door.

“It’s not like he has enough debts already, huh?” You shot back, provoking a mischievous giggle on her in return.

“It’s not like I don’t have fun with it!” Her answer was in a sing-song tune, as she pointed back at you before finally leaving. “Take care of that, though. You got hurt pretty badly this time, I’m gonna be worried.”

“You don’t need to be. I already got the world’s most protective and worried man right here with me.” It was your turn to wink back at her. “Vergil isn’t going to leave me alone while I’m not 100% recovered.”

“Well, he had to have at least one quality.” She muttered back, adjusting her helmet. “Don’t forget to call me!”

“I won’t! Thanks again, Lady!” You waved as the red motorcycle made its way through the darkness of the night.

While closing the door, you couldn’t help but to smile. Lady was a good friend, and you would always be grateful for the way she cared about the very few people she loved. She wasn’t the mellow type, but, in her own walking arsenal sort of way, you would still consider her sweet.

Your thoughts came to a halt, though, when you found Vergil sitting by his desk with an empty bottle of whisky on it. He was slouching over the table – something he usually didn’t do – with one of his hands entangled on his hair, while the other held an almost empty glass. His eyes were closed, but the way his eyebrows furrowed told you how much his thoughts were troubling him.

“Vergil, love. Is everything alright?”

You question was immediate albeit careful. You knew whenever Vergil’s thoughts weren’t too controlled, he was prone to flashbacks and instinctive self-protection. Startling him could be a death sentence – although, you were more scared of his memories of Hell than being accidentally hurt by his hands.

Vergil slowly opened his silver eyes, resting them on your form for a couple of seconds. You waited until he let out a long sigh, closing his eyes once more.

“I can’t sleep.”

Oh.

It was one of those days.

“For how long?” You left your boots by the door, calmly approaching him. You weren’t careful in your steps – you didn’t need too – but you didn’t want to make sudden movements. He needed peace, not chaos thriving around him.

His whole life had already been chaotic. Vergil needed to learn how to live in a healthy environment.

“Three days.”

You got seriously injured during your job with Lady exactly three days ago. You and Vergil were already used to each other being badly hurt during a hunt, but that didn’t stop you both from worrying about the other.

Sometimes, though, a situation like that could trigger some things Vergil usually buried deep inside his chest and didn’t allow them to come out.

“You need to rest, my love.” You laid your hands on his shoulders, feeling them tense under your fingers for a few seconds before relaxing under your touch. You placed a kiss atop his white hair. “Is that why you’re drinking?”

Vergil didn’t answer, just groaned as a confirmation. You took the glass from his fingers, taking a sip of the bitter liquor, feeling the alcohol burn down your throat.

“What’s the matter, Verge? Why can’t you sleep?”

Vergil just dismissed your question with silence.

He wasn’t used to sharing his worries – he had always seen that as a weakness. Vergil had learnt to be self-sufficient, going by his life on his own and burying whatever insecurities and fears he had inside his chest – smothering them in the hopes of asphyxiating those feelings and never hearing of them again.

But that was just a temporary solution, one he did to survive. He had been a survivor his whole life, watching everything around him burn and die. Vergil cut ties and bridges to people in order to shield his heart from bleeding over and over again, from hurting him so much. He could take only so much and, if he kept being hurt and having his feelings dilacerated in front of him again and again, there would be a day he wouldn’t survive.

This time, your injury provoked a nightmare. While on your job, you got hurt by an Angelo, a creature so similar to what he once was when Mundus made him just a pawn on an endless chessboard.

In his dreams, Vergil saw himself as Nelo Angelo once again. His eyes glowing in red, hands holding a flaming blue sword, towering frame inside his hellish armor. You called him, you screamed his name – he heard you, but his body wouldn’t answer to his commands. The house around you was burning down in flames, demons terrorizing whoever tried to approach you.

With each heavy step of his iron boots, you begged and pleaded for him to listen. You said all the beautiful things your heart had for him, proffered your favorite poems for his ears, but Vergil’s mind was being held hostage in a body that wouldn’t answer.

It was only when your lifeless body was laying on his arms that Vergil snapped out of it.

By his sword. By his hands. He was covered in blood, your blood. Vergil tried to bring you back, but you were long gone. He kneeled on the floor, cradling your body and crying his heart out, screaming desperately for that pain in his chest to let him breathe – just like the day his mother perished in his flaming childhood home, years prior. But this time…

It was his fault.

You were doomed to die, whether by his unconscious hands or hands of demons, since the day your lips touched his. The day you and him decided to allow your hearts to intertwine your paths, was the day you received a death sentence.

No one who came in touch with the blood of Sparda survived. Vergil was aware of that.

With that image haunting his mind every time he closed his eyes, Vergil decided not to sleep. It wasn’t much of a choice, but a defeat: he couldn’t bring himself to dream of something else. He couldn’t convince himself you were safe, and nothing would happen to you – he couldn’t stop desperately cradling your body close to his heart as his eyes closed.

He couldn’t sleep.

“You do know drinking won’t make the nightmares go away. They will be back eventually.”

Vergil groaned again, sliding the glass away from him on the desk. It was a rare sight, but he looked defeated. You’d say you were the only one in all the worlds allowed to see him like that.

“I had someone who would compensate with drinking. Whenever he did, he’d turn worse than all devils I met.” You decided to leave the comment around, pulling a chair to sit close to Vergil. He watched you with attentive eyes, clearly processing in his head what you had just said.

“I hardly believe a human can be worse than me.” His answer was preceded by a defeated sigh while you watched him intently. Vergil referred to his demonic blood – or he wouldn’t have deliberately said the word ‘human’.

“I beg to differ.” Your reply was almost a whisper, leaning on the table just like him, but taking your time to adjust Vergil’s messy hair back to the state he always liked when he was sober. “You are not a mindless aggressive creature when in demon form, even if you’d like me to believe otherwise.”

“But I have been a mindless hellish creature once.”

There. You finally got to the main issue in Vergil’s thoughts – you could see it in the way he took his eyes away from yours, fixating back on the table. He never really told you the things he went through as Nelo Angelo, and you never forced him to tell you. Vergil would say what he was comfortable saying – and he would keep to himself the things he was not yet ready to tell.

But of all the things that crossed his complicated mind, you knew your safety caused the most worry to Vergil – your safety from him.

It wasn’t a secret he believed you both were a love story fated to destruction – just like it happened to his parents.

“Once.” You threaded your fingers carefully through his hair, as not to startle him. You always had to ease him into physical contact – and Vergil would always be starved for it, whenever he finally welcomed your touch. “And even so, you are so strong, you broke out of its dominion over you on your own. Dragging your crumbling body to the only thing that could be your salvation.”

“Dante killed Nelo Angelo. I did not do it on my own.” Vergil’s mutter was bitter as the alcohol on the table, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the way you fondled his hair.

“It was Vergil who broke out of Hell and saved himself, even if in the most extreme way he found to do so.” Your hands were gentle, but your voice was now a bit harsher – mirroring the strength of the Dark Slayer. “He was the one to know what he was doing was probably a road with no way home, but it was the only way to keep himself alive. He kept walking even if his body was tearing itself apart, he grasped the very last sliver of hope he had. Not looking for forgiveness, not looking for absolution, but looking for survival. Not Nelo Angelo, nor Dante or Nero, not even Sparda. Vergil.”

His silvery eyes stared back at you in confusion and glistening with sudden tears as you told him what you thought about all the things he did. You didn’t apologize his many mistakes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to judge – what would you have done if you were in his shoes? Could you make better decisions, could you do the right thing after so many years of suffering, trauma, and torture, after being stuck in survival mode for the most part of your life? The average person would have never done the things he did, but Vergil was never average.

“You did many wrong things in your life, Vergil. But you survived. Your willpower isn’t to be toyed with and the amount of admiration I have for you is endless, love. You have to know that.” With that, you used your thumb to wipe a tear that decided to run over his sharp cheek. Vergil remained still, not really knowing what to do with all that – he was used to be called names, to be berated, humiliated, and even hated. He didn’t know how to react with being admired like you did. He didn’t know what to do. “I don’t think someone with that kind of willpower would accept another they see as weaker – and love, my will is as strong as yours. I have fought, and I have survived as well. All the legions of Hell would have to march against me to take me away from your arms. And I won’t say this is a promise, because those can be broken or changed like the phases of the moon – it is a fact.”

“Love…” Vergil whispered, finally taking your hand in his and running your palm through his face, following the pattern of your fingers with the tip of his nose, until finally placing longing kisses on your fingertips. His silvery eyes opened once again, focusing on you; his lips barely away from your skin. “These violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die like fire and powder. The sweetest honey is loathsome in his own deliciousness.”*

Not knowing how to express his thoughts and feelings – all those he had been trying to kill, asphyxiated in his chest for so long – Vergil recurred to the best way he knew how: poetry. As always, he knew you would understand what he meant… And there was only one way to answer.

“The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss a dateless bargain to engrossing death.* I do not fear anyone who might come near me. They should fear me, love, for I will fight as bravely as you have – and there is no power enough to take me from you.” With those words, you pulled Vergil closer to you, looking deeply into his eyes – he would always be mesmerized how you wouldn’t be intimidated by them. Instead, you always welcomed Vergil’s sharp gaze, holding it with your own. “Thus, with a kiss, I die.”

You didn’t give him time to think – suddenly, your lips were on his, sealing your fate over and over again, every time you repeated that kind of affection with Vergil. Cradling your face gently with his hands, he soon retributed the kiss, trying to make you understand how much he admired your human strength and will – something he couldn’t put in words, but could try to express with actions, at least.

Vergil lived his whole life being feared in order to protect himself – whether by his name or reputation. Having you stand by his side not fearing neither, made him believe that maybe – just maybe – your love story wouldn’t go down in blood and flames like he was used to.

Maybe Vergil could finally know some peace… After all, you were strong enough for love.**

*Romeo and Juliet, by Shakespeare

**Ordinary Love, by U2

#devil may cry #devil may cry imagine #dmc #dmc imagine #dante x reader #vergil x reader #dante imagine #vergil imagine #dmc dante #dmc vergil #devil may cry fanfiction #dante sparda #vergil sparda #dante x you #vergil x you #and here we go with more Romeo and Juliet for Verge again #please give 'em hugs #they need it

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