𝔒𝔥 𝔗𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔡

You didn't get that impression from Dante though, hell half the time, from what you gathered without actively paying attention to him between all you're studies and overloaded schedule, it didn't seem like he even really cared that much for the sport. At least, not like the way his teammates did, all of them constantly playing and preparing for a talent scout; each of them striving to be on their best game, but not Dante. He always seemed rather blasé about it. Like he only played the sport for fun, hardly taking it seriously unlike his younger brother (now a freshman himself while Dante was in his junior year ) who was the actual quarterback while the younger Sparda twin is happily stationed on the side wings of the field as the wide receiver.

Well, at least that's what your friend Cara told you he was when you innocently inquired. You didn't know anything about the sport, didn't care to know either; which, of course, lead her to teasing you about your sudden interest, poking you playfully as you make attempts to dismiss the subject.

"What's got you so curious, hm?" she all but purrs while invading your personal space, one of the few people that could do so without having your temper flaring. "That another thing you want to 'study'? Adding logistics to your repertoire and your already packed courses?"

She reaches for your flash cards, snatching them all save the one you're currently scribbling at instead of eating your too expensive sandwich for lunch.

"Hey!" you whine as you react too late to her pilfering but her features are set in staunch determination, scowling as she points her clawed index at your forgotten food. You sigh as you relent, taking the plastic wrapped meal to finally nibble at, "no I am not adding anything else to study. I was just curious is all."

"You're never 'just' curious," teasing as she takes your final note card, inspecting it while chewing thoughtfully at a chocolate chip muffin she got in leu of a meal, much to your chagrin. She sticks her tongue out at you playfully as she adds the card to your neatly piled stacked, leaning closer to you with her voice low, "I think you're curious about a certain member of the team named Sparda."

Your skin warms slightly, raising a degree as you give your unwavering attention to your sandwich as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Humming as your friend and roommate leans into your peripheral, "Nero? As if, he's sweet though, you know he's seeing that girl from the all girls Catholic school? Kyrie was her name I think." You offer some plausibly unknown information in the hopes she'll find that more interesting than your reason for asking about positions in a sport you have absolutely zero interest in.

But, like as cat with its prey, she isn't so easily dissuaded, shoving at you near incredulously with a roll of her eyes, "now you know damn good and well I was talking about Dante."

"What about me?" comes a singsong question in an all too familiar breathy tone, a wave of warmth rushing in your veins as a thick forearm drapes over your shoulders, his head leaning between yours and Cara's.

You loathe the involuntary reaction of your body that seems to happen whenever Dante interacts with you more personally, something that's been occurring more frequently since the beginning of your sophomore year.

Your first year had been a nightmare of your own making, having selected all of the earliest classes that you could to schedule your clinical hours later in the evening only for your counselor to inform you that you didn't have enough electoral credits by the end of the first semester. Why the fuck would that even be a requirement? But, of course, you'd have to make accommodations for them.

A normal person would've rearranged the frequency of their required classes or dialed back the amount of clinical hours they were logging. You were not a normal person by any definition of the term, though you did attempt to choose an elective you'd thought would be easy. Something you assumed would be non invasive to your heavy schedule, theater, which had sounded perfect and it was worth two credits with a passing grade; how hard could it possibly be?

Exceptionally, you're soon to learn, for someone with social anxiety and a fear for public speaking.

The first day of class of the fall semester was miserable, forced to introduce yourself and divulge your aspirations as well as your hobbies. That's the day you'd met Dante more directly rather than in passing during lunch or in the courtyard and hallways in the race to your next lesson.

And nearly everyday after that first class, you were late, much to your absolute dismay. Wether you liked the class or not, you hated being tardy, priding yourself on your exemplary time management skills. It infuriated you that no matter what you did, how hard you worked or how fast you ran, you never made it over that fucking threshold before that damn door is mocking shut in your face.

But you weren't only late by just a few seconds to a handful of minutes, no, there were days you missed half or the majority of the lesson or exercise. The only reason you bothered to show up at all was because the instructor, Ms. Terrywether or Ms. T for sure, was kind enough to count your attendance so long as you showed up and made an active attempt to learn and engage once you had.

Though you guess even a sweet teacher had their limits or even their bad days because upon your late arrival, she decided to reprimand and chastise you plenty in front of the entire class before sending you to the only available seat.

All the way in the back, right next to Dante, who, once again, wasn't even conscious from what you could tell; he never was any time you managed to attend the elective.

He was leaning back in his chair, feet kicked up and crossed over the other onto the tabletop in front of him with his hands folded neatly over his abdomen, eyes closed with his head lolled backwards. The sound of your backpack and over the shoulder book bag falling to the floor with a deft but hefty thud and the scrape of your chairs legs startles him awake as you flop into your seat petulantly.

Dante blinks blearily a couple of times, running his hand over his face as he lowers his seats feet to the floor, "hey, late again? Id offer to take notes for ya, but…" He gestures around vaguely then, as if what he was referring to went without saying.

It irked you, already agitated in general and he's made himself the unsuspecting target of your ire.

"But, what? Because it's theater? Or because you were asleep again and somehow didn't get bitched at for it even though you're always fucking asleep." You lash out at him as you sassily flick your hair over your shoulder and cross one leg over the other as you glare at him with a precious pout. Face hot from the residual embarrassment upon your arrival compounded by the near instant feeling of guilt for biting his head off after his brows and hands raised in surprise and surrender sequentially.

A moment of awkward silence stretches between you both as Ms. T prattles on about methods of acting and the periods in which they hailed.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," you offer after a spell, squirming uncomfortably after your agitation had fully subsided, "I appreciate your offer though, y'know, if you'd stayed awake to have anything to offer."

You try to tease playfully, you weren't sure if it would fall flat or not though, Cara always said not everyone understood your humor but that's not your fault; you weren't for everyone.

But Dante seemed to understand, chuckling before he tilted his head at you with an easy smile, "don't worry about it sweetheart, I get it. My brother always says I should take things more seriously too, find some motivation. Maybe making sure I can tell you everything ya miss will be just the thing."

"Your brother sounds like my kinda guy," you comment nonchalantly, noncommittally as you twirl the end of a tendril of hair before giving him your gaze once more. "Still, kinda shitty of me though. You gonna nap a bit more? Promise to wake you before class is over," you say it cutely, ever childishly extending your pinky to seal the deal.

Dante takes it in turn, breezy smile and softened features that pleasantly warms your blood, "you're an angel."

"Angel? the sound of his voice pulls you from a reverie you'd unintentionally fallen in, zoning back in as your friend Cara nudges you playfully, parroting Dante a bit, "yeah angel~, what were we talking about again?"

Your skin warms again, rolling your eyes with a playful scoff as you tilt slightly away from Dante, "I was talking about our next period. Mentioned how I was wondering what you'd come up with to derail our exercises today."

Dante laughs at that, adjusting in order to dramatically clutch at his shirt over his heart, "derail? Is that what you think of my heartfelt performances? Ouch."

His tone is light, still breathy in the way his sentences trail, wholly unlike the forced dramatics he opted to during your during your elective hour, though it still makes you giggle cutely. Cara rolls her eyes at the pair of you with no ill intent, seemingly content enough to drop the subject entirely but that was no surprise, she would never do anything to embarrass you maliciously. You're just glad you could think on your feet fast enough, feeling juvenile for the way you've behaved in regards to your affinity and interactions with the man with naturally starlit locks.

Honestly, you weren't immune to the effect of Dante, especially not after gradually getting to know him. He was obviously kind, covertly caring and exceedingly engaging in conversation if he was interested enough in it. You could see where some people say he's a little standoffish, you've even witnessed it personally a handful of times though it wasn't aimed at you specifically. You think people just aren't very good at seeing the subtleties of his mood souring, never catching it until his expression falls to something less friendly and his tone darkens.

You've always been a quick study, anyone with eyes should be able to tell the nuances to a person like Dante but you chalk your keen eye up to your childhood and the field of study you've chosen as your career path.

Patients were rarely honest, be it shame or the dishonesty with themselves, it didn't matter; it was the healthcare providers job to get as accurate of a read on their patient as possible.

Was it really your fault that you applied that skill to aspects of your personal life? You didn't think so, it certainly helped you avoid some potentially draining or derailing relationships. Besides, it's just an infantile crush, something borne of proximity and a number of enjoyable interactions. Who wouldn't have a good time with someone like Dante? It went without saying that he had a charming personality and was more than easy on the eyes.

Regardless of all that, you didn't have the time to pursue any romantic or recreational endeavors, focused solely on your career with the intent to bypass working in certain facilities and fast track into a private practice; with enough certifications and vocational hours, it should be entirely possible.

You absolutely don't have time for distractions.

"Speaking of," Dante sighs as he reaches for your uneaten bag of dill pickle flavored chips, popping one into his mouth only for his features to contort into disgust at the soured onslaught. You scowl waggishly, snatching the bag from him while Cara watches the exchange with her own impish smirk, "you gonna be on time today or do I get some barely needed beauty sleep?"

"Why would it matter if she was on time or not for you to nap, Dante?" Cara pipes up suddenly, garnering both of your attention with some minute traces of surprise. You can already tell by the sassy little smile and the way she postures herself with her chin resting on the back of her hand that her curiosity is not genuine. Proving her point the moment she was her manicured fingers at you with a wink following her query.

"Huh?" he hums slightly as he reaches for your half finished strawberry flavored sparkling water, unconsciously bringing it to his lips as if it were his own, "I nap if angel isn't gonna be there—" Dante takes a hefty swig of the beverage, which he discovers quickly that he doesn't enjoy; lolling his tongue out with a pronounced euck sound as he hands it back to you while you playfully puff out your cheeks at him, "the strawberry flavor barely makes that halfway decent sweetheart."

"It's fine it's just not goddamn V8 juice or that piss water you call beer so you don't like it," huffed as you snatch your drink back, finally making eye contact with your friend when you do.

Cara bears a knowing smile on her pretty features, brows hiked high as hues of melted chocolate flit between you and Dante over the exchange between you. You've know doubt the teasing comments will be relentless later, surely mentioning how she loved the way you two absolutely forgot I was sitting next to you. But sure, neither of you are into the other at all. Completely platonic, I believe it.

"Mhm," she singsongs, splaying her palms onto the tabletop as she moves to stand, "interesting. Anyway, I'll let you two run along to theater, be sure to tell me all about it when you get back to our dorm, mkay?"

Dante cocks his head in confusion at Cara's initial tone but disregards it with a shrug quickly. Dazzling grin finding his lips when he turns to you, "oh so you'll actually be on time for once huh? Guess I can skimp on the beauty sleep just to keep you entertained."

His tone is joking, nearly purring his final word as his arm snakes around your shoulders when you stand as well. Dante pulls you into his side naturally, something he's done a multitude of times in the year and some months you've known one another.

However, now, the action leaves you feeling flush, cheeks pooling with heat though not from the action itself but from how it can be and has been perceived.

Your friend was one thing, an intuitive and insightful woman that would certainly tease you; that was expected, allowed, she was a dear friend of yours and trusted confidant.

Others, however, is what really concerned you. Mean girls and bullies that never grew out of their high school personalities that would resort to unsightly behaviors in the name of a mans affection. How juvenile; and truly, it wasn't of any actual concern, you were an adult and any substantial harassment could be dealt with accordingly through proper channels.

You simply didn't want to deal with it, you were busy, ambitious, you knew what you came here for and it wasn't to fraternize with frat aligned compatriots; not that Dante was like any of the frats you've seen on campus, sure had the diet of one though.

And, even despite your trepidation and wariness, you don't detach from Dante, don't pull from your place beneath his arm. You do enjoy him, that you allow yourself, you don't think anyone could endure such a ridiculously rigorous schedule of their own making without some allowance for pleasantries like this.

Anyone besides Dante's older twin, Vergil, of course. If only you truly knew about his own personal exploits, things that the one he shared a womb with didn't know and what Vergil wouldn't divulge to willingly; not only because it wasn't his business, but because he doubted the man could keep from telling you those juicy details.

Besides, it was unlikely (to you) that Dante would harbor any romantic feeling towards you, he had a lot going on in his own respect too; plus, you felt as if you were complete opposites. If there was any attraction at all (that you would still refuse to acknowledge) it was sexually at most. You weren't dumb nor were you blind, you knew the figure you had was eye catching— especially your ass and bosom respectfully.

You doubt Dante was in search of a serious, committed relationship at all and neither were you, not right now, nor were you keen on the prospect of casual trysts. However, you have toyed with the notion of both options of so fleetingly.

Sure, he makes you laugh and he's considerate but you knew for a fact he was a bit of a slob and was more the talkative social butterfly where you were not. You enjoyed your moments of silence and solitude whereas Dante would surely lose his mind or explode form the lack of stimulation. You've both witnessed and experienced firsthand how he will instigate an argument or simply pester whoever Dante wanted to engage with until he garnered a reaction. Namely his older twin and baby brother, but still, case in point.

You also knew well that he rarely took anything seriously, something his twin has scolded him incessantly over and you're inclined to side with Vergil on that. Theater and football were the only things you'd known him to actually put any real effort to and even that wasn't on a consistent basis.

There were plenty of cons you could search for as a counter to an argument nobody but you was posing for feelings you say you don't harbor, but that was hardly productive; so, you use the time it takes to cross campus wisely.

Patting at your hip for the bag that usually rhythmically bounces against it from your hastened pace only to feel its absence instead. Muted panic seizes your heart and your stride, stalling abruptly and jarring Dante as you pivot.

"Whoa, whoa," he nearly coos but doesn't tighten his hold on you to keep you in place, "what's goin on? Everything okay?"

"No," you sigh dejectedly as you leave Dante's side, despondent over the likelihood of yet another late arrival and exasperated at the fact it was due to your own carelessness, "my bag. I left all my notes and my change of scrubs in the café."

You're already adjusting the straps of your backpack that houses all of your textbooks and supplies so it doesn't bounce irritatingly as you job back. You're certain it will still be there, there wasn't anything of value within it unless you counted the ridiculously priced patternless scrubs you purchased before learning about the trade supply company that should them at a discounted cost.

"I'll be late, agai—" you glance over your shoulder at Dante who bore an ingratiating simper as he easily dangled the weighted tote with two fingers. Relief floods your system, bidding your shoulders to slump as you heave a stolid suspire.

He must've grabbed it for you without your notice, obviously so distracted, frazzled by your own fault, that you didn't notice you'd forgotten your ever present parcel. Even though it was kind of him to grab it, saving you trouble Dante knows well would torment you (however inconsequential the lapse in character was), and that the blunder was unmistakeably your own; it was due to Dante's presence and how you react to him.

That was another glaring reason you couldn't indulge in him in any aspect, he distracted you, made you lose focus.

Betraying that resolution instantly when you allow him to scoop you under his arm once more as he holds out the bag without the intention of relinquishing it to you. Offering it to you in order to fish out whatever it was you desired before tucking you into his side once more; leaning into your space curiously as you shuffle through your index cards, now making sure you hadn't abandoned any.

Humid puffs of breath fan rhythmically against your temple and cheek, something that would often and consistently irk you into a diluted rage. You weren't fond of incessant points of contact, oft repulsed by it actually; but, of course, Dante found himself becoming an exception to the rules.

"You write down all the reasons you're in love with me and ways to confess?" He says it teasingly, cheeky little expression on his features as shock paints your own, blood warming uncomfortably, feeling as though he'd heard your inner monologue.

But why would it if that weren't the truth? If what you harbor for him is little more than the shallow appreciation for his looks and physique?

So you scoff indignantly, elbowing him in the ribs to grant yourself some much needed space though both actions lack ill intent. Subtly fanning your skin with a flash card but posturing it enough for the illusion of semantics, "oh yeah, absolutely, let me tell you about it. My favorite has to be," you shuffle your stack before taking one at random, "my comprehensive yet incomplete list of standard procedural and medical abbreviations."

Dante rolls his lower lip between his teeth, pointed incisor biting into the sensitive flesh while his index performatively pulls at his collar, "oh, you know I love a girl that says a bunch of words that sound important."

His tone is airy, playful in nature but the purr to it does little to abate the heat that still pinches at your epidermis. Granted reprieve only by stepping over the threshold of the theater room, guided in first by the younger Sparda twin at the small of your back as he follow after, greeted by a chorus callings of his name.

Energy met unevenly but not disingenuously as he waves, finger guns and winks his way to the seat next to your own. Soon finding his trademark leisurely stance as Ms. Terrywether enter the room, quieting it with a jarring slam of the heavy door and an exaggerated clatter of her belongings to the floor next to her podium.

She grips tightly at the edges of the matte material, wild look in her eyes as she scans over every one of her students; a desired hush blanketing thickly over you and your peers. Her form relaxes seconds after, satisfied smile gracing thin, gloss adorned lips as it contorts into something more smug in nature.

"That will be our exercise for today's session," she declares haughtily with a dramatic flail of her wrist before fixing anything on her person that may have fallen out of sorts. Lithe digits combing through pin straight locks that gray at the roots primarily along the fringe that frames her face, conveying a distinguished and dignified look about her.

Another student raises their hand halfheartedly, confusion compounded with mild annoyance marring his features, "um what exactly? Acting batshit insane?"

There's a smattering of murmured agreements that sound after his statement, sparse chuckles and whispers filling the space as your instructor rounds the podium. She takes easy strides, one foot placed directly in front of the other with a confident sway of her hips as she drags the mobile stand behind her. Tutting as she's reaches the leftmost wing of the raised platform meant to mimic the auditoriums grand stage.

"In a way, you are correct," her sensible heels clack against the laminated plyrun, tempered and tested by a plethora of performances. She comes to stand before the student who postures himself slovenly, one arm slung over his seat as he leans to the opposite side, "but, only in the most rudimentary of ways. Listen closely my little pup, today you will need to present combatively!"

It's obvious to you that your classmates still aren't grasping what it is they'll be doing, you've got a solid idea but it's unlikely you'll explain. Instead you tap your pencil against the web of your palm as your mind wanders, casting a cursory glance to Dante whose expression, while neutral and relaxed, bearing a raised brow at the most, tells you he is with the vast majority.

His head lolls lazily in your direction, pursing his lips cutely (objectively speaking) and widening his eyes slightly as if he were already fighting to stay awake. You nudge him playfully to which he responds disproportionately, saying in the direction he's pushed before tilting back and leaning his weight against you while your professor prattles on in the background; now tuned out as you react to Dante in turn.

He grunts on an exhaled huff as his weight offsets your balance, your whine and meager shove at him goading Dante into imposing more of himself on you before both of your names are called with an agitated hiss.

"Since you both have begun your own beguiling improvisation, do us all the honor of acting out our first scene for the afternoon. Please do attempt to keep it concise out of respect for my and your peers time."

And there's that moment that you hate again, those instances where you have unwanted attention cast upon you, raising the temperature of your body in a flash. The unpleasant warmth radiating from your chest to your extremities that threatens to consume you before Dante's fingers dip beneath your own as they begin to bite into your thigh.

A fleeting touch but a comforting one nonetheless as he hoists himself up with an exaggerated grunt, standing tall as he raises his arms above his head with his fingers interlaced; tilting from one side to the next in an effort to 'limber up' like he often did before practice or a game.

Though there was not all eyes on him, any you felt were lingering in you slide to him as he groans as if he'd awaken from a nap.

"I'd love to teach, but I've got one question for ya," Dante sighs as he steps down one, then another before glancing at you to see if you were prepared. You tuck your hair behind your ear as you draw in a clarifying breath, calming your nerves as you follow his lead. You weren't sure when Dante became so well versed in your mood and reactions but, now more than ever, you're grateful for the fact and how effortless he made it seem to adjust and accommodate.

You didn't think your discomfort was obvious but anyone would learn those sorts of tells in over a year of getting to know someone.

Certainly for someone as intuitive as Dante, you've seen him advocate for his more introverted twin in spaces ill suited for his personality and personal preference a handful of times.

Ms. Terrywether quirks her brow while her arms fold beneath her bosom, twisting her wrist in a circle as her fingers waggle at him expectantly, mild agitation mounting.

You would think someone with her profession would appreciate Dante's penchant for the dramatics. Urging you to stifle your giggle as he steps onto the stage and offering his hand of assistance.

"Are you," he starts as he hoists you up the three inch incline, bowing slightly with his hand held in a blade with his other arm outstretched behind him. Waiting as you find your spot on stage as he swivels to face your fellow classmates, now joined by Ms. T, and extends both of his arms, "ready for the best performance you've ever seen?"

A chorus of cheers and claps couple with muted chuckles and giggles, something only Dante himself could accomplish before completing the actual performance he was charged with.

"I'm waiting, Sparda," she scoffs irritably as Dante turns to you, gesturing his hand in a waving motion for you to take the lead.

Despite how you can feel the attention of your classmates direct to you, you don't shy or grow uncomfortable; choosing instead to focus on the charismatic man encouraging you with his eyes in front of you. You inhale slowly, turning on the ball of your foot to begin the scene you conjure on the fly, mining the action of kicking off your shoes and unloading your belongings upon arriving home.

Dante tilts his head as if to peek over your shoulder when you sigh bereftly, "something wrong, angel?"

You don't answer at first, turning further away from him when you hear him take a step closer to you, "c'mon sweetheart, talk to me."

He extends his arm to reach out and touch you, to place it on your shoulder in an effort to get you to face him. You can sense the impending contact, whirling on him as the back of your hand slaps his away. The action shocks him, taken aback and you have the fight a proud smile, furrowing your brows and forcing a frown instead as you fold your arms over your chest, "nothing. Nothing's wrong, nothing to talk about."

Dante's brows creep high on his forehead, the beginnings of a smirk tugging at one corner of his lip before he follows your lead. He loosens his shoulders, shrugging slightly as he takes a few leisurely steps to the right of you and you follow his movements, turning as if you don't want to face him and Dante takes the initiative to wrap his arms around you. He pulls you to him, resting his chin on your crown when your back is flush to his chest.

Heat rushes through you with this proximity as well as how intimate this sort of handling is, your eyes downcast in order to maintain composure as Dante sighs above you, "C'mon sweetheart, I'd know something was wrong even if it wasn't written all over your face."

"Doubt that," you scoff, tucking hair behind your ear as you turn your face further from him as Dante attempts to lean into your view."

Your heart hammers against your ribcage as his low chuckle vibrates into your form and his breath fans over the shell of your ear. His hand comes up to cradle your chin, guiding you to give him your gaze as he husks, "you always kiss me when you get home."

Dante's actions make you feel flush, turning away from him without freeing yourself from his loose hold, indulging intentionally as you cast a glance downward for a suspended moment, regarding the floor with an intense scrutiny as you search for what to say. You needed to find a reason to refute his comment, a reason to be upset in this scenario; you'd initiated this with the concept of roommates but with Dante's interpretation leading you down a romantic route, you don't wholly have to adjust your original idea. Cohabitation with a partner can come with a whole wealth of issues, same as a roommate you don't particularly align with but the feelings you share can cause the disagreement to become more inflammatory.

You take a moment more to solidify your argument before you scoff, "well, maybe I'd want to kiss you if I didn't have to climb over a mountain of trash and junk to get there." Turning to smile at him wryly, brow furrowing to fix him with a haughty expression as his own grin spreads further.

Dante's grasp grows slightly firmer on your chin again, crystalline hues falling to your lips with a muted intensity that you don't miss as his thumb swipes over your bottom lip. He pulls the plump flesh down gently before his eyes meet yours once more, "gotta climb them to reach me anyway dontcha? I'm just giving you a boost is all, even though I do think your tiptoeing is cute."

"Stop it," you shake your head to force yourself from his loose grasp, pushing from him hesitantly before brushing over your hair. Flustered as you also smooth down your clothes despite nothing being out of place, "I'm being serious. I need you to take this seriously for once and not try to charm your way out of it."

Unwittingly you've allowed some truth to seep into the scene, some authenticity tainting the act without your intention, all because of how he made your heart race, "I'm busy all the time, focused on what you agree is important. I go from one priority to the next and while I think it's great that you can go with the flow, you telling me I should learn to relax or trying to coax me like this doesn't help the way you think it does."

You chance a glance at Dante when you finish, lifting your arms to wrap around yourself in a loose embrace upon seeing his expression. You knew well that he was an intuitive person, you were no exception despite how you tried to lie and say that you were, though it wasn't as if anyone else would really think so but he was. He was subtle with how he accommodated and adjusted to different types of people and their personalities.

Sure, he presented a breezy, uncaring, hedonistic persona that plenty of men and women alike enjoyed but Dante harbored a huge, compassionate and sensitive heart.

Sometimes it was just his delivery that could be misconstrued or, in your case, become grating in its own right. He wasn't the only person to ever tell you that you were too high strung; though, the ways in which Dante broached the subject always struck a chord. Likely because he'd used some innuendo or was too playful about it, noncommittal and that bothered you for reasons you refused to acknowledge.

You two were fundamentally different, you have to fully accept that and now was as good a time as any, in a situation where the air wouldn't be as awkward. Telling yourself now that the fun you have with him is just that, resigning yourself to it as you take a step back as Dante takes a step forward. He feels an unknown urgency to do so, brows furrowing as he nears you but his tone is still light, offering a placation in the form of a sweet coo, "c'mon angel. It's just been a bad day, that's all, I'll help clean up."

"It hasn't," you respond hastily, the sound coming out more biting than you meant it to but the unintentional minimizing of the feelings Dante is unaware that you're feeling burdens your tongue.

He doesn't stall, however, taking another measured step forward as you turn petulantly from his sight. You've grown agitated with yourself more than Dante himself because this was irrational— one sided. Unfortunately you're painfully aware of how utterly insane it was to be behaving this was, but, you've always put your entire being into everything you've done.

All or nothing, all the time.

Besides, you're frustrated with yourself over your own waning focus, this argument is just the precursor to your journey down realignment.

"I think it's great that you can be carefree, that you can just live comfortably however you want, I really do; but I can't. You're blaze about things I would agonize over. You lack conviction, commitment, real commitment, too," you sound like Vergil to Dante in this moment; just bearing less vitriol and agitation, any you may feel doesn't feel directed at him.

But even still, he steps closer to you, closing the gap to pull you closer before you can step out of his reach, "angel, baby, listen—"

"This isn't going to work, we don't," you inhale sharply, surprised at the way he pulls you into him, nearly crushing you to his chest. Dante feels some driving force within him to keep you from finishing that sentence, stop you from convincing yourself that it was true.

It wasn't, not to him, he knows it shouldn't be for you either.

He cups your face then, palm caressing your cheek as you lift your chin to meet his gaze. Surprise paints your pretty features, brows raised and lips parted on a silent exhale, like your next died on plump flesh.

Dante's lids fall to half mast, crystalline hues searching your face, thumb swiping gently over the apple of your cheek before his head dips lower. His nose brushes against yours in subtle hesitation, giving you a chance to pull away though he doesn't want you to and, when you don't, he presses forward. Digits delicately yet deliberately threading into your hair, cupping beneath your ear to pull you into the kiss, applying more pressure to it.

The contact is gentle, tentative, that you could think if you didn't know any better— didn't know Dante better— you could delude yourself into thinking it was out of respect for a fellow classmate; that this kiss was for the sake of the scene and scene only, purely improve for shock value.

But you know that isn't the case, heart hammering in your ears as you melt into the kiss. There was something more to this, you knew that, felt that there were unspoken feelings that you wanted so desperately to ignore; or, better yet, completely deny the existence of it entirely.

Everything you said was true, they were cons you'd considered more than you cared to admit when it came to enjoying whatever sort of relationship could come about; though all of that wanes from existence as you allow yourself to fall into him. Your chest pressing against his, fingers curling into the fabric of his long sleeve Henley as you return the pleasant pressure into the contact.

You sigh audibly as Dante holds you closer, hand sliding further into your hair to cup the curve of your skull as his other arm wraps tighter around your frame. His lips slide against you're slowly, minutely adjusting to slot your bottom lip between his but he pulls away a moment later in an effort to not become too impassioned. Humid breath fanning against your skin with his huffed exhale, fingers moving to brush hair from your face as your lashes flutter open; as if you needed a moment to return to the present.

The expression he bears is tender, vulnerable, a rare sight you've been privileged enough to witness a handful of instances in the time you've known him.

"Don't say that," he all but sighs, searching for something in your eyes, his name stalling on the tip of your tongue, surely the softest you'll ever utter it before emphatic clapping jars you both from the moment.

You'd almost forgotten you were standing before all your classmates, performing for them.

"Brava! Bravissimo!" Ms. Terrywether cheers, dramatically swiping her index along her waterline as if she were move to tears by the performance as she steps onto the stage to stand in front of you and Dante. He still holds you closely, hardly budging, only prying his eyes from you when you squirm and attempt to pull from his grasp.

You curl your index and middle finger as you raise your hand to about chest level, dipping your head as you press both of your middle phalanx mimicking the pressure of Dante's lips moments prior; your mind wandering far from your teachers emphatic praise. Something about exemplary improvisation and a wondrous demonstration of a complex relationship, unable to pay it any mind, let alone graciously accept it.

You wear a faraway gaze, thoughts in full chaos as you look over the room, warming over the stares you receive as you scurry back to your seat while Dante saunters behind you.

If his eyes are on you, which they are, you don't have the wherewithal to register it. You plop into your seat and all but curl into yourself as Dante finds his place next to you. He sits comfortably, casually and (in your clouded mind) unaffected as he stretches out once again, lounging about but now he drapes his arm over the back of your seat while two other classmates take their places on stage.

You don't focus on the dramatics that ensue, can't focus, not while Dante pulls yours chair closer to his with relative ease; an action you've never over thought before the plethora of times you've been subject to his familiarity. It's now a maddening happenstance, the other students that sit on the wings of your peripherals whisper amongst themselves, words you're unable to discern.

You're inherently under the assumption that whatever they discuss now will pertain to everything that's transpired between you and Dante. Agitating you because the scene, the kiss, this current posturing between the pair of you isn't particularly the problem; it's simply because of who it involves.

This all may very well be an act of your own paranoia but even still. If any of this occurred between some random man whose last name wasn't Sparda, there wouldn't be anything worth gossiping about. There wouldn't be anything to speculate over nor contort into fabrications for entertainment or drawn beyond this very room that encouraged both.

You bounce your foot anxiously, hastened speed that jostles your bag and Dante's person as you agonize over exaggerated possibilities yet not one scenarios seems unfounded. Worrying your lip as a glaze falls over your eyes, recalling the last debacle pertaining to one of those three infernal siblings that came about from those of the student body that were obsessed with philandering about that anything else. You were pretty sure the poor girl that was involved had to transfer to a sister school to escape the fallout over something harmless.

Even an innocent interaction with one of the three men all but stoked jealous flames that resulted in cat fights, smear, or harassment (sometimes both consecutively) campaigns for the unsuspecting student. It was juvenile, truly, you couldn't reiterate that enough.

Heaven forbid anyone found out about the sweet girl, Kyrie, that Nero was infatuated with. Her being from another campus wouldn't matter to any of his admirers in the slightest, you were certain; even despite the well known fact that Nero didn't take kindly to persistent unwanted advances.

Your mind is wrought with a wealth of worrying possibilities in multiple aspects, ripping skin from your lip as you gloss over each one.

"Hey," Dante leans towards you, flexing his arm to tilt you closer in turn, "you okay angel?"

His softness sinks into your skin, nestles into your psyche as an effectual calming force, one you choose to shrug off when you rise from your seat hastily.

This is stupid, I'm not going to worry about this, especially not while literally leaning into the actual fucking problem, you think to yourself as you casually but expertly avoid Dante's steadying hand that extends towards you. You gather your things, slinging both bags over your shoulders while quickly clambering from the staggered seating as the next scene ends.

"Clinical's," you call to your theater teacher when you're already over the threshold of her classroom and partially down the hall; already settling to yourself that some realignment is necessary.

Fortunately, the facility in which you train and log your hours was short-staffed, choosing to work over your typical schedule as often as you could following your 'interaction' with Dante. You absolutely weren't avoiding anything because there wasn't anything to avoid, right?

That's why you skipped lunch in the cafe the next day and all the ones to follow that despite multiple texts from Cara telling you to 'get your ass here to pick at your food while I bitch about vampire prince.' And, as tempting as that proverbial tea was to hear, you needed a well deserved rest after multiple extended and overworked shifts.

However, you wouldn't be so fortunate to subvert Cara's meddling nor her concern for you since you two shared a room and after another skipped lunch, she's less than pleased with you. She returns to your shared dorm in a huff, scowling at the you shaped lump still occupying your mattress well into the afternoon.

You never sleep that late and Cara is sure to point that out in her signature 'tough love' way as she rips open the blackout curtains that hang over the singular window stationed at the center of the room that divides your two full sized mattresses to let in some much needed sunlight.

"Give me a break," you whine pathetically to your friend, cracking open heavy lids to see your friends disapproving expression, "I worked overtime last night Care-bear." Your tone turns teasing at the affectionate pet name you know she hates, hoping to have her bite on that instead but no such luck; though, she does hit you with the rolled pillow from her own bed she often cuddled with.

"Cut the crap, you've been up until three in the morning before and still woke up at eight at the latest. You only sleep this hard when you're upset or avoiding something," Cara points out with ominous accuracy. You move to lay back down, intent to do exactly as she say currently for this conversation in particular but she hits you playfully once again as she flops onto your mattress.

You groan as you pull the covers higher, attempting to bury beneath the weighted comforter before it's ripped away from you rudely.

"Or," you heave a bereft sigh, conceding as you sit up, "I'm just tired. You've said it yourself remember? That I'm gonna work myself into the ground, now you're gonna keep me from resting?"

"True," Cara initially agrees but she sticks her tongue out at you over your final statement, flicking her hair over her shoulder sassily, "I'm very insightful after all."

That makes your eyes roll but a lighthearted smile finds your lips nonetheless, Cara was right, she was very insightful and she knew you well enough. A fact you wish were the contrary as you hide from your problems in the sanctity of your room that you say are non-issues, rubbing at your temple tiredly as she leans into your field of view.

"You've been acting super avoidant and weird since your favorite Sparda crashed our lunch date before theater."

"I don't remember Vergil doing that," your nose scrunched up as you attempt deflection once again, hating how easily your friend could pick you apart. She grabs at your pillow this time before smacking you with it once, twice after you act surprised and question her antics.

"You're proving my po~int," Cara singsongs as she pelts you with your pillow for the third and final time, forcing your concession once again.

"Fine, fine! You're right, okay? But it's nothing serious, I just realized I haven't been focusing on the things I should be so I just locked myself down again is all."

The impish little smirk on your roommates face makes you hide your own, groaning in defeat despite muffling most of the sound with the pillow you were pelted with moments prior.

"Spill the beans," Cara coos as she adjusts her position, moving to prop herself up against your headboard and pull hair from your face. She creates an open and safe environment for you to vent and confide in her.

You do as you're told, sparing no detail as you recount nearly your entire day to Cara, though she adores that sort of thing. Every occurrence or comment was an important detail to her, context is very key to her as is it for you as well. Though she does interrupt you a fair amount during your recount, particularly pertaining to the instances in which Dante was involved. Your skin warming over every one of her gasps and comments until you have to kick off your covers despite how valiantly you tried to ignore them.

"Bitch," she interrupts again, slapping your arm repeatedly with a wide grin, "bitch! I told you, I'm never wrong."

As much as you love your friend, you find yourself rolling your eyes in her presence plenty at this particular moment, mostly because she is right; and right often. She'd mentioned plenty of times that Dante certainly had feelings for you, feelings she knows well that you have as well despite how you try to vehemently deny them.

You end your little trip down memory lane but Cara has questions, most of which you don't want to answer.

"Lie right now and say you don't have a crush on him. Lie some more and tell me you didn't enjoy every second of that," she sounds downright giddy as she slaps your knee while you run your hand down your face in exasperation.

"That's the problem," you groan while drawing your knees closer to your chest, resting your cheek on the cap, "that I liked it at all. I don't want to have a crush on him."

You don't need to see your best friends face to know what expression she wears, one that's knowing and wry, likely falling into a scowl over your staunch denial of indulgence. She sucks her teeth, the telltale start to a lecture that was well on its way to becoming her signature with how often your behaviors and stubbornness stoked its need.

"You could honestly do far worse than Dante," she begins but your fingers are already combing through your unkempt locks in frustration. "I get it, he's definitely a personality but—"

"No, you don't get it," you hiss as you shove your covers off the bed completely, surprising Cara slightly when you stand and refute. It wasn't often that you became moderately argumentative, least of all with her. You gather your thoughts as you search for a discarded hoodie or sweater before tugging your college branded crew neck over your head as you continue, "you don't have a crush on one of the goddamn Sparda's. Hell, you can barely stand the oldest one and you're mostly indifferent to the youngest but everyone gets along with Dante. Everyone wants Dante."

There's a shift in Cara's expression, particularly at the mention of the oldest of the Sparda siblings but with your mounting frustration and worsening turbulence you either misread it or ignore it entirely.

Fortunately so for her, after all she has her own secrets, you aren't privy to all her exploits; and, even if you had noticed, what she says next is inflammatory enough that you'd drop the subject completely.

She scoffs as she starts, flicking her hair over her other shoulder sassily once more, "so what? What does it matter who wants him if it's obvious that he wants you?"

"Because it isn't fucking obvious!" Exclaimed in a tone and volume that's out of character for you, especially with it being aimed at Cara of all people. You're already tired of this conversation, weary of this subject matter entirely.

If Cara is taken aback by your outburst, she doesn't show it nor is she truly affected by it— something you'll be grateful for later whenever you relive this experience and regret your behavior. You're typically relatively levelheaded, agreeable for the most part and not someone for confrontation especially in regards to frivolous endeavors like fleeting relationships.

But, even still, when Cara was curious, she was someone unfair to inquire, "how is it not? Babes, I get being in denial, I really do, but after what happened in theater? You seriously can't think he's that good at acting or improv."

"You're right," your voice takes on an eerie calm, falling into detachment because this exchange will not reach a concession, not with how stubborn the pair of you could be. You wander your room as you tug on a discarded pair of dolphin shorts, finally fluffing your hair out of the crew neck you'd slipped on earlier as you snatch at your miniature backpack you only used for recreational excursions rather than anything functional. You slip on a pair of furry boots next, unsure weather they're yours or Cara's but it didn't matter as you turned to her at the threshold of your dorm, "I don't think he's dedicated enough to commit that much effort."

It sounds as if you agree with her and if Cara were anyone else, she might've believe that to be the case; but, she was an expert in nuance, well versed in reading between the lines. Your resolute tone made it readily apparent to her that your statement called Dante's interest in a relationship into question and not his acting skills in particular.

Your friend doesn't get the opportunity to give her counterpoint, cut off as you fling your everyday bag over your shoulder; intent on a walk that'll clear your hear or, at the very least, simply free you of this conversation in general.

Clearing your head seems highly unlikely, however, in your honest opinion; already lost in thought as you wander campus aimlessly. You rummage through your bag in search of your headphones, free hand already tapping at the glass screen of your phone, operating on muscle memory alone as you tab into your playlist. It wasn't often that anyone opted to make idle conversation with you, let alone anyone else, campus either bustling or students attempting to enjoy what little time they had to themselves; still, better safe than sorry.

If the musics couldn't drown out your thoughts, it could at least drown out the world around you, which was helpful enough. You let a glaze fall over your eyes, gaze falling to your feet as a few droves of students pass by on either side of you while you let your thoughts wander.

Though the obvious but unfortunate avenue in which they travel plagues you, mind revolving around and infuriating ivory haired man.

You wish these feelings were as fleeting as you claimed them to be, that they were as easy to ignore as they once were but avoidance only seemed to worsen the dilemma.

But, you've been down this road before, just last year as a matter of fact; because, as much as you presented yourself to be this urine willed workaholic, Dante's charms captivated you long ago. Though, you didn't have the added factor of knowing what it was like to be kissed, truly kissed, by him to complicate how you coped with the once waning desire that rages now.

You believed yourself to be a good judge of character, that you could objectively read an interaction with someone well enough after the fact. You could say with some level of confidence that Dante held some level of infatuation with you in turn, so what problem could there possibly be? You were young, exploring a number of things including prospective relationships or sexual escapades while in college wasn't unheard of.

But, you in particular, were a bit intense, more like Vergil (so says Dante and Cara alike) when it came to what it was you wanted out of both your college experience and life after it. Both focused on your education and what you wished to achieve career wise but where you differed from the older twin was the real contributing factor to your vehemence.

You feared getting too attached to a man far more free spirited than yourself, someone you felt could definitely see you as a fleeting fancy. You doubted highly a man that looked the way Dante did desired a committed relationship at this age and you certainly couldn't blame him.

Everything would be far easier and much less complicated had you found interest in his fucking twin instead. Someone fastidious, focused, dedicated, goal oriented, someone a lot easier to fucking avoid.

But no, of course you lost focus on the one that made it incredibly difficult to realign.

You Brian aloud in an involuntary effort to vent your frustration, pass of your fingers finding your temple as you knead a delicately at the thin skin there. You'd wandered towards the fountain in the courtyard before the entrance to the main building, the halfway point between yours and Dante's dorms.

The sound of the water splashing into the shallow pool serves as a welcome reprieve from your turbulent thoughts, if only minutely. Choosing to sit along the ornately designed concrete lip, resting your bag at your feet in time for Vergil to cross your path seemingly undetected on your part.

Typically he would offer you at least some wordless greeting, instead his fingers comb through his hair the same way he often does in an effort to calm himself and recenter. He shifts his gaze in the direction opposite of yours, as if to avoid interaction entirely as he traverses the path you'd just come from.

Witnessing that might've hurt your feelings had you noticed, that is, if him heading towards your shared dorm with Cara wouldn't have piqued your curiosity first.

Luckily for him, he slips by unnoticed, avoiding both troublesome possibilities, though he does hasten his pace; gait now hurrying towards the dorm you'd left your best friend in instead of his usually relaxed, measured strides.

The discovery of their secret, torrid affair certainly would've been a welcome distraction from your own confusing and agitating love life, but no such luck. Another time, perhaps, after your own is settled; secrets pertaining to Vergil can only be kept from Dante's meddling for so long.

You sit for a long while, long enough to loop your playlist and for the grounds to clear of even the typical handful of stragglers one would find at this hour. The few that took evening classes, those that had on campus jobs or bustling to the parking lot to drive further into the city for the ones school didn't offer but gave credits for. You sit for so long that you need to slide to the ground to rest your back against the fountains bowl to alleviate the ache that ails you due to poor posture.

Longer still as the sun begins to dip beneath the west building, no longer blinded by its burning brilliance; instead you're able to enjoy the vibrant pastels the setting celestial paints the sky that holds it.

It all grants a welcome serenity, one that offers you a modicum of clarity, but not much. You'd think to stay longer but you've already grown tired of your playlist and opting to shuffle through liked songs doesn't sound very appealing.

You'd halfway wish you'd brought the book your roommate loaned you last week but you'd been unable to find any real spare time that would warrant toting it about.

It appears it's time to go.

You hoist yourself up, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you trot forward thanks to your momentum, idly tilting your head from one side to the other as you take out your headphones.

Completely zoned out as you meander along the sidewalk before pressing in the doors to the dormitory hallways; enjoying the absence of the student body that normally clogged the path. The halls are surprisingly empty for a Friday evening, not that you'd complain or question it. You assume there was some game for one of the sports your college prided itself over as you stand before your undecorated door.

'We need to put some decoration soon, at least the little cutouts of our initials,' you think idly as your fingers wrap around the polished knob. You turn it, meeting familiar resistance you register too late as you push your weight into it, heavy wood remaining unmoved as your foot kicks the bottom and you run into it face first.

"Huh?" You grunt more to yourself than anything else, rubbing your forehead in confusion. It wasn't like your roommate to lock the door, especially not whenever you've left her alone— something you've chastised and lectured her for plenty.

You try again, shouldering the bare, boring door before scowling when it still doesn't budge. Trying longer than you should until you scoff in annoyance as you move to pay yourself down for your keys. You reach for where your belt loop would be with your keys safely affixed had you put on jeans instead of shorts far too thin for the weather outside and a baggy crew neck. You opt to rummage through your bag for them next but you know that too is a fruitless endeavor, shoulders sagging sadly as you heave a bereft sigh; though, you can't be too upset with her since Cara finally did what you've always asked her to do.

You raise your fist to knock, knuckles wrapping against the door once before it swings open wide, relief flooding your system. You were grateful that your roommate wasn't asleep only for your heart to sink to your feet seconds later and your blood to warm rapidly when Dante greets you instead of Cara.

Confusion mars his handsome features initially before it bleeds into pleasant surprise, demonstrated by his leisurely posturing as his arm raises to prop against the jamb.

You're stunned to silence for a solid few seconds, tucking hair behind your ear as you attempt to peek around him, "what are you doing here?"

"Pretty sure that's my line," Dante coos breathily, smirk on his lips as he moves to lean his shoulder against the wall instead, "since this is my dorm n'all."

"What?" You express genuine perplexion, something he finds endearingly cute until you continue, glancing down the end of the empty hall, "I was pretty sure I saw Vergil walk by earlier."

Even though you didn't, not really, mostly registering him in the peripheral but barely, too consumed in getting lost in your music and musings.

You take a step backwards, skin warming uncomfortably because, 'no way right? No way I absentmindedly came to Dante's dorm instead of mine?' How could you have made such a grievous error?

Though you had made an observation a normal person wouldn't have and commented to Dante once before. Stated in passing the handful of times you'd come to his dorm when you acted as the mediator between Vergil and Cara the month they'd been assigned a 'group project.'

You'd pointed out that the twins dorms was the exact amount of doors down your own hallway, precisely six doors from the entrance on the left, almost dead center of the short wing. Dante had teased you about it then, flustered you by saying, "oh yeah? Wanting to memorize your way to me, sweetheart?"

Dante's shifting jars you from your turmoil, now leaning forward into your space with his arms folded over his broad chest. He wears a smirk on his infuriatingly pretty face that doesn't meet his eyes. He tilts his head at you as he sighs, "aw, don't tell me you were hoping for him instead, sorry to disappoint, but everyone knows I'm the more handsome twin."

You roll your eyes at him, scoffing as you mirror his posture, "do you not have an off switch?" A comment Dante chuckles over himself as he leans back against his door, "and don't you have a game today? I figured that's where everyone was going tonight."

Dante shrugs casually, scratching the back of his head when you cock your hip sassily and begin to tap your foot impatiently, waiting for a real answer. The one you receive only further proves your initial assessment and argument to Cara correct, "pretty sure, but didn't really feel like performing today."

He winks at you, prompting another roll of your eyes and scoff in disbelief, completely missing his point in your shock, "weren't scouts supposed to be there today? Why would you skip out on that?"

Even you know that a scouts attendance was a big deal and golden opportunity for a player, especially for someone with Dante's level of skill. You didn't think even he would dream of squandering such a life changing opportunity.

In a way, you're absolutely correct,however just slightly off base on what you'd consider a priority for him.

"Doesn't really matter to me sweetheart," he stretches slightly, yawning at the peak of it before he settles, "you didn't come here to ask me about a sort you're not interested in, did you angel?"

"I didn't come here at all," you quickly retort, hastily defending yourself in a way that wasn't entirely coherent.

"New theme of yours?" Dante teases but it doesn't sound as playful as he typically would, the tone a bit more biting, "you haven't been coming to class at all either. Not really like you."

Your brows creep high, tilting your head as a disbelieving smile tugs at the corners of your lips, "oh, so you know me that well huh?" Tension toys with your muscles as your arms fold over your chest, mentally attempting to create some invisible barrier Dante is sure to scale or destroy entirely.

"I'd say so," he shrugs again, body language more open as he raises his arm to drape his forearm against the metal framing. He leans ever closer to you, voice lower in volume, like sharing a secret, "know you well enough to say the kiss bothered you. Y'know, since you liked it more than you wanted to."

The brazen confidence in his statement, uttered as if it were an objective fact, makes you spitter indignantly. Incredulous at the sheer audacity and infuriated at his self-assured smirk, as if your reaction were evidence enough to prove him right. You shake your head as you scoff for the umpteenth time in his presence, glancing away from him as you run your tongue along your teeth; but that reaction only encourages Dante to goad further.

"Sound about right then?" He chuckles, smirking as he raises his hands at you in mock surrender, "it's okay, you can be honest with me sweetheart."

"No," you all but seethe lowly, sucking your teeth as you roll your eyes, pivoting on the ball of your foot in preparation to leave, "I really can't."

His smile falls instantly, expression contorting into a simple range of emotions though none of which you'll genuinely consider for now. Not while you choose to cling to a false narrative that doesn't protect you the way that you think it does.

You opt to end the conversation here, to have at least another Dante-less day or two but he extends his arm to stall you without touching you.

"I get too serious with you and you run, I play it safe and you bite." Your brow quirks high in challenge and he sighs, shoulder slumping in slight submission, "gotta give me something here angel."

"Toying with me is playing it safe?" You turn on your heel, expression pinching in indignance as if he'd curse your bloodline before running your palm over your face in a vain attempt at calming yourself. Working to stave off an outburst but you ultimately fail as you hiss, "and give you what Dante? What is it that you want me to say? That I find you attractive like every other motherfucker on this godforsaken campus? That I love spending time with you and it makes me happy?"

You heave in a breath that's meant to be steadying but all it accomplishes is displaying your level of frustration, evident in how rapidly you speak; like you'll swallow your feelings if it doesn't tumble from your lips now. You want to relax but you can't, now realizing the cap to everything you've bottled up is primed to burst, yet even still you try to reign some of it in at the very least. Evident in how you comb your fingers through your hair exasperatedly, another action that makes Dante see how alike you and his brother are; how much you have in common.

It makes Dante recall your offhanded comment about his twin the first time he really started to interact with you. Even with your present confession, the recollection threatens to sour his mood.

"Fine, you win on that one," you sigh out after a weighted moment, merely seconds have passed but it felt like hours with the tension between you. He makes a face of confusion, nose scrunching as his brows furrow before you continue, "but I can't do this."

You gesture between the both of you and Dante's confusion only worsens, warming your blood nervously because inferring he'd wanted anything with you at all opens you up to being wrong and rejected. Which would mean a whole added layer of devastating embarrassment for you to deal with.

For as long as you've agonized over all of this, the fact was that Dante and his feelings were an uncontrollable factor, but regardless, you still intend to say your piece. One way or another, you'll have it this situation to rest.

"I can't have anything so frivolous, not built for casual and fleeting, so yeah, I'm gonna fucking run because having fun with you is dangerous for me. I don't want to get attached and end up looking stupid, I can't do it. I can't afford losing my focus either in dealing with what all of your admirers will think and how they'll react. Or if we do try this out and something happens. I'll obsess over it, be consumed by it like I am right now and there isn't even a guarantee that this could be anything to worry about at all!"

You start to ramble, running out of air between the breaths you don't take enough of while you monologue at him. The speed at which you speak sounding more frantic and breathless by the second before Dante reaches for you. He grabs hold of your wrist when you register his movement and attempt to dip from his grasp, pulling you into him as you curl your fist in agitation against his chest.

He allows you one beat of the heel of your palm against his sternum as you whine before his index curls under your chin; tipping it delicately to dark your gaze nearly the same way he had during your first kiss.

Dante wears a tender expression, vulnerable, much like the one he wore during that infernal scene last week; history beginning to repeat itself.

You shut your eyes, clenching them tightly in a vain attempt to avoid its effect on you until his thumb traces over the plump flesh of your bottom lip.

The look of him when your lashes flutter open is more damning than his softened one earlier. You find him staring at you intently, pupils dilating when your lips part with a stolen breath. You almost think he'll kiss you again, heart hammering more heavily at the prospect before his gaze meets yours.

"What's so wrong with getting attached?" He sounds wounded, like the notion is a deep scar of his that you haven't yet discovered.

You don't get a moment to analyze it deeper as Dante's palm cups your cheek, thumb brushing the fringe that frames your pretty face out of the way. A smile, fleeting and mirthless, find his lips when your eyes widen, "not really fair that you get to decide all that without even asking me."

Another moment passes between you, nothing but the sound of your shuddered breath and his soft suspire filling the space. Dante dips slightly closer, voice barely above a low husk, "so ask me."

You don't understand at first, searching his face for answers until you find it yourself, swallowing thickly after your tongue peeks out to wet your lips. You attempt to find your words, will waning as glacial hues track the action with rapt attention before you finally speak.

"Tell me that you aren't serious, that you aren't actually interested and it's just some perception of me playing hard to get." You inhale slowly, curled first unfurling to splay over his heart as you whisper feathersoft, "tell me that we couldn't be anything serious."

His lips quirks upward at that, fingers tightening their hold on your chin as he pulls your bottom lip down softly while he leans ever closer. Your eyes flit down to his mouth as his tongue moistens his own lips as he exhales long and slow. You search for any indication that you're right, that a rejection will come despite how he cradles you now. Searching for an unchanging best of his heart beneath your palm, for that apologetic tilt of his head and raising of his shoulders but you find none.

The only tilt of his head comes as he nears closing the gap between you as he purrs, "sorry, can't do that angel. Not very fond of lying."

"Fuck," you curse under your breath as your eyes meet his, but there is no lamentation to your tone. The whisper makes Dante chuckle as he finally presses his lips to yours. His lips capture your bottom one after the first tentative brush, encouraged further by how easily you leaned into him, how you accepted your fate and gave in.

Dante's are wraps around your torso as your hand slides up to rest at his nape, fingers toying with the baby hairs at your fingertips. He takes a step backwards, moving to cup your cheek as he graduates to an open mouthed kiss that you accept easily, kicking his door closed behind you.

"Oh~" Dante coos playfully between chases kisses, maneuvering his dorm effortlessly without parting from you as he falls back onto his bed. He sits on the edge of it, spreading his legs for you to stand between them before he leans back; index curling under the hem of your crew neck, "what's she gonna do with me? Should I lock the door? Put a sock to warn good ol' Verge?"

Dante teases but he holds you loosely, hands merely cupping the backs of your thighs as he looks up at you, silently giving you an out; quietly telling you nothing needs to happen even if he wants it to.

"How about you~ put a sock in it instead," you scoff, moving to hold his chin the same way he had earlier. Your free hand lifts away your oversized sweatshirt, leaving you in your pretty pink bra adorned in a cutesy strawberry pattern.

"Ah, but then you'll say my mouth is too dirty to kiss," always a quip in the chamber for him but he stalls as you strip. He watches you intently as you hook your thumbs in your too enticingly tight dolphin shorts before shimmying them down thick thighs; revealing a semi matching set of lacy panties to him.

"Guess that's a good way to shut you up," taunted teasingly as you step from the pooling material while kicking them away. You're thankful you'd actually managed to grab something that was cute during your hasty retreat from the conversation with Cara. The fact that it mostly matched was a mere stroke of luck and made you feel a little more alluring the longer he appreciated the look of you.

"Just trying to figure out what to salivate over first angel," cocky smirk gracing his lips as he leans back onto his forearms while you climb into Dante's lap. You scowl cutely, draping your arms over his shoulders as you press your tits into his chest; giving him a healthy dose of delicious cleavage that spills over your cups as his hands come to rest on your natural waist.

"If you're talking about the strawberry pattern I will leave," a halfhearted threat, you actually find his humor more than endearing.

"Don't want that," Dante purrs as he leans forward to kiss you, his palms gliding along your skin as he bucks his hips up into yours. The action helps him to adjust you to settle over his pelvis instead of just his thighs and maybe fluster you in the process if he was lucky.

And lucky he is, enjoying the muffled sound of surprise you make because of it, swallowing it greedily while his palms rest comfortably on your hips as you straddle him now.

You're keenly aware of the prominent bulge you can feel through the thin material of his joggers. Testingly, you drag your thinly clothed slit along the length of it as you feel it pulse in time with the heartbeat you feel thrumming against your skin.

Both of you simply familiarizing yourselves with the other for a long moment; smoothing your hands over the planes of his and torso while Dante gets a feel for the profile of your body against his. His tongue swiping over yours as his fingers knead at your thighs, gripping at the flesh available to him before letting them roam your body.

They move to your lower body first, gripping tightly at the fat of your ass as your hips roll in a languid motion, your head tilting while you moan over the feel of him.

Thick and lengthy from what you can tell now that he's grown more erect from your ministrations. You hum a lovely sound as the web of your palm rests at the base of his throat, leaning forward to make Dante lean his head back.

You cup the curve of his skull as he does, a pleased coo bubbling from your throat as you blaze a trail of kisses to his own. Placing chaste brushes of your lips along the column of his larynx, pursing your lips against his adams apple when a perfect roll of his hips makes you jerk. The tip of his clothed cock kissing your clit just right, making you gasp a saccharine sound as Dante chuckles as you adjust yourself over him to experience it again.

"Is the pretty girl a pillow humper?" Dante husks against the shell of your ear, goading you into slapping at his chest halfheartedly before you lean away from him.

"I'm about the be," a hollow threat as Dante holds you in place, lopsided smirk and lidded gaze painting his features as he coos in an attempt to placate you.

"Aw don't be like that," cooed cheekily as he leans forward to kiss you tenderly, ghosting his palm along your spine as he keeps you close, "I think it's cute. Should've let you finish first before I said anything."

Heat stings your chest and ears but you aren't wholly embarrassed, just slightly flustered as you sit up despite Dante's efforts to drape your body against his once again. You roll your hips in half circles in subtle show that you had no intention of de-tangling from him, watching the micro-expressions the action elicits with a self-assured smirk.

It seemed he too appreciated the pleasure friction provided but you want to know more, to learn what else he enjoys, craving it as you coo, "show me what you like too superstar." Painting on a catlike smile as you scoot backwards, resting on Dante's thighs, just above his knees as you tug his joggers down to let his rigid length spring free.

Saliva gathering on your tongue as you drink in the sight of him, hungry gaze on his pretty cock before raking upwards to truly appreciate his position and physique.

Dante's abdomen tenses and rolls as he adjusts, cock jumping as your deft digits massage at his inner thighs and your lustful gaze sweeps over him. He tilts his head as he grasps the base of his cock, lazy smile on his lips while he watches your pupils dilate when he gives himself a testing pump and then another. His strokes are unhurried and languid as he spreads the precum that leaks from his tip down over his length to grant an easier glide; flicking his wrist when he reaches his cockhead before adjusting his grip as he repeats the motion.

The rhythm he finds is leisurely, relaxed as you watch for what he isn't sure; but he should know well that you're studying him like you do everything else. You log away how the pace hes defaulted to will do little more than edge himself at best, certain that anybody that fucked their fist this slow and lazily either were performing in porn or thought that they were.

But you don't know that the look of you is reward enough in and of itself for Dante; enjoying how intently you track the motion of his arm, wrist, and hand along with how thickly you swallow at the sight of how his pre bubbles at his slit before his thumbs smears it away again over the flushed, heated flesh.

"Don't tell me this is all an elaborate ploy just to study my anatomy, he teases breathlessly, smile growing wider when you blink a few times as if jarred from your reverie. You're odd for certain but it's endearingly precious to him, one of the many reasons he cant get enough of you. He shrugs innocently as you puff your cheeks petulantly, tone breezy, "cant say I blame you, I am a fine specimen. Way better to look at those dummies you're saddled with."

His bravado makes you scoff but if only to stifle the giggle he nearly pulls from you. You roll your eyes as you lean forward, satisfied with whatever it was you were trying to glean from simply watching him fuck his fist; however halfheartedly Dante was doing so. It was enough for you as you tuck your hair behind your ear, arching your back as you drape yourself along his body once again. Shifting to lay slightly to the side as you grasp at Dante's shaft, just above his own hand as your lips seal over his.

"Still a dummy yourself though," you purr between slow, chasing kisses, a soft 'smack' sounding with each one as you press the pad of your thumb to the underside of his sensitive tip, earning a hiss you stifle with a swipe of your tongue.

He hums as you copy his motions from moments prior, laying back as you lay beside him, watching as Dante's hips rut up into your fist that replaces his.

"So that's what you wanted," he sighs slowly, scooping his arm around your, turning his head to kiss at your throat since you seemed so content to watch how you handled him now.

And well do you handle him, smirking as Dante's breath hitches against your skin when you apply a moderate amount of pressure in your pumps, squeezing tighter. Leaving him unable to help how his teeth graze your shoulder as your pace hastens, pumping his cock like it excited you.

"You should work on asking directly for what you want," Dante teases but his voice bears a strain, a low gravel to the usual breathless cadence as he sucks his own mark into your skin. His lips trailing featherlight brushes along the slope of your throat as his hand paws at you; groping your ass when he nips at your jawline but he slips beneath the material that covers your cunt innocuously, kneading at your ass cheek first before he slips lower.

He teases at your hole first, surprising you and urging your arch but not stalling the rise and fall of your fist. Dante flexes, his arm to have you lean more into him, giving him better access to your body. He angles you so his hand can slip further down and let his fingers glide through your slick. Sticky clicks filling the space after only a moment and you're unable to see Dante's smirk as your thighs clench when he circles your swollen bundle of nerves.

Your lips part around a sigh, soft and sweet as your pace slows on his length, leaning forward until your forehead rests on his diaphragm and your ass is half in the air. Whining as Dante's middle and ring fingers plunge tentatively into your cunt, testing the tight resistance by only sinking to the first knuckle before the slight stretch you feel is gone too soon.

"I want you," you whisper, the utterance coming out as more of a whine than you wanted. You press your lips just above his navel, another beneath it, just above his mons. Your tongue traces along the vein that snakes to the base of his cock when you feel his abdomen flex, his body tensing minutely as you lift enough to purse around the mushroomed tip. You hum happily hearing Dante hiss as you purr, "that's all you get," before taking him into your mouth.

You sigh but both of your bodies tense and relax in a dizzying cycle at how you handle the other, relaxing soon after if only marginally. Even as he toys with your clit it doesn't feel like enough, the both of you merely exploring the other for the moment but you grow needy, evident with how you whine around his girth.

Though you're sated soon after, moaning as he sinks into you again, deeper now as you take him to the final knuckle as he sighs, "sounds good to me."

You aren't sure if he meant in regards to what you'd said or the way you keen so prettily as you bob on his dick but you can't be bothered to care about the specifics. Pleasure now gradually builds and you enjoy the feel and taste of Dante on your tongue, hollowing your cheeks as he curls his fingers in your cunt.

Rewarding one another with appreciative moans and salacious sighs as you search for the others preferences.

Though Dante finds yours much faster, pads of his thick digits pressing into velvet walls that have you stilling on his length suddenly. Faltering on your rhythm and moaning wantonly around him before he pushes you over the edge.

Shuddering and releasing his dick with a lewd pop as you arch and shake against him, fist still giving halfhearted strokes while you ride out your unexpected climax.

Unknowingly you edge him but Dante doesn't mind, instead he delights in how you react to his stimulation until you cant take it anymore; lifting away from him but not going very far, turning in time to catch Dante popping his fingers into his mouth to properly taste you. The sight makes your lower belly molten, your clit throbbing but you know well it isn't just from your waning orgasm. You need him, more of him as you throw your leg over Dante's thighs to straddle him once more.

You shimmy his joggers lower as you move forward, enough for him to kick them away as he sits up to receive you. His arm wraps around you, broad palm settling at your mid back to press you into him. He's already smiling into the kiss as you cradle his face with both of your hands, whining when you feel his weeping cockhead tap against your puffy clit even through your soaked panties.

"Want you, te," you pant into his mouth but he's already working on compliance, demonstrating as much by expertly unclasping your bra before moving back (if only slightly) for the garment to fall away from your body. He grasps your chin delicately, pad of his thumb tapping gently on your mandible, "look at you, getting better already."

He exhales a breathy chuckle when your face scrunches in confusion momentarily before you register what he means. Truly he must like the way you look when your eyes roll back with how often he elicits the reaction as you lean away from his kiss playfully but Dante surprises you once again.

Dante had meant to hastily pull down your panties but, with your position, his strength and the materials fragility, the seam tears completely. Stitches popping startling you before you scowl at him but Dante doesn't give you much time to be cross with him.

The tip of his cock catching on your entrance and prodding precariously is distraction enough as his fingers press at the small of your back to encourage you closer. His skin gliding against yours as it moves to your hips but he doesn't press you down onto him, not yet.

"Sorry angel," Dante sighs, voice near breathless and feathersoft as you hover over him. You can feel him tense his arm to keep you from sinking onto him too quickly, considerate of the fact that even with priming you the way he had, his fingers didn't match his girth. Which, you can absolutely appreciate that, you adore him more for it as a matter of fact, but he doesn't know that you like the burn from a sudden stretch. You cup his face lovingly, intent on reassuring him as you brush the fringe from his face lovingly when it husks, "I want you too."

Whispered as if her were repenting for his anticipation that cost you an inconsequential article but you've always prided yourself on deciphering context; understanding Dante was coming to you easily now that you allowed it.

"You have me," you sigh against his lips, tongue swiping over his as your lids slip shut and you sink onto him in tandem. The stretch is a divine feeling, making your walls flutter around his length threateningly already before you finally take him to the hilt.

Dante groans as he grips you with a bruising force, eyes rolling appreciatively behind closed lids from the feel of you alone. He inhales sharply as you lift halfway off of him before sinking once again, finding a delicious rhythm easily with a handful of bounces aided by Dante's capable hands.

Both of you devolve into more carnal reactions only as a desperate pace is set; muttering one another's name for the other to swallow, panting into your mouth or against his skin like your passion wouldn't let either of you catch your breath.

It become readily apparent to you that you were more pent up than you'd like to admit, simply thankful that Dante appears to have not noticed considering he hasn't teased you for it yet. Though, you could almost assume that of him as well with how he embraces you, keeps you pressed impossibly close to him, how he yearns to taste you further.

He cups the curve of your skull to angle your head in the opposite direction of his as Dante's tongue familiarizes itself with the inside of your mouth more intimately. His free hand still holds firmly at your hip, aiding in how you bounce on his cock while simultaneously grinding your clit into his pelvis. He delights in how your hips jerk out of sync, the whine that accompanies it makes him smirk against your lips.

You do get subtle revenge, however, clenching around Dante's sensitive tip when you rise on his length, earning a choked groan of a sound that makes you giggle. You even edge yourself just to do so, tactically avoiding rewarding him with a second climax from you as you build to his own release; he didn't need that much of an ego boost.

Plus, you think he's close anyway, feel it with how he twitches inside you as well as how he grips, paws and gropes at you. A satisfied smile finding your lips as you cradle his jaw and move to kiss his throat and adorn him with another loving mark. As delicious as they tasted on your tongue, you're more inclined to hear his pleasured sounds uninhibited.

But Dante obviously has other ideas, or perhaps he was simply too lost in the throes of passion, as he switches your positions again. He shifts, moving to press into you and lay a kiss to your shoulder as he leans forward to lay you down, putting you into missionary.

The switch surprises you, starting to squeak but with the change in angle, Dante's cockhead bullies a spot in you that tips you over the cliff you were teetering on the fringes of. You arch into him as you throw your head back, unable to stifle the throaty moan Dante earned while you ride the waves of your second orgasm.

All while Dante rolls his hips into you methodically, watching your euphoria wash over you as he brushes your hair that's slicked to your skin from that beautiful sheen of sweat he causes. A serene expression paining his features before he lowers himself onto his forearms, giving you a jostling thrust that nearly steals the breath from your lungs as he does.

"I gotta ask angel," Dante starts, breath low and somewhat strained but his pace doesn't slow as he finds the rhythm he likes. You can appreciate it as well, if the heels digging into his lower back after you hooked your ankles together was any indication. It becomes clear to you that he's waiting for acknowledgment when he doesn't continue, so you whine out a soft 'whats that?' before he finally continues; kissing your jaw in gratitude first.

"Is my brother still your kinda man?" Dante grits out, gasping for breath when you begin to meet each of his thrusts; but still, he wanted to tease. He places another kiss to the space behind your ear as he husks, "because I was startin to think I'm a way better fit."

Your face pinches in perplexion, unsure as to what he's referring to and, with your current position, you aren't exactly inclined to recall or consider it critically.

Until it hits you, conveniently as Dante drills into you rhythmically, you remember saying Vergil was more your type than Dante was once upon a time.

The idea of him being jealous, of that bothering him all the way to this point, endears you so.

"Aw," you sigh after you realize, the sound interrupted by a pleased moan as your nails dig into Dante's shoulder blades. He's found a pace that must work for him, unhurried but harsh, each thrust of his hips knocking his headboard against the plaster and jostling your body beneath him; not that you're complaining by any means. Quiet the contrary as lewd squelches fill the space as you preen, "I thought you knew y-you were the more ha-ahn-ndsome twin?"

It's a perfunctory attempt at placating but the intention is still genuine, offered in a language Dante appreciated and understood best. At least you hope he does, too overstimulated to really have this kind of conversation, not while building to your third orgasm as Dante consistently slams into your still sensitive slit.

This position had the curve of his cock nudging into that spongy spot inside you that nearly made your mind go blank, focused only on how good it felt. How good Dante felt. Your cunt drooling around his throbbing length, creaming rings gathering at the base of his dick while slicking down the wirey thatch of curls on his pelvis.

Dante heaves a breathless laugh, a strained sound huffed against the shell of your ear as he braces himself on his forearms, fisting the sheets next to your skull. He's chest to chest with you and yet you hold him closer still, heels likely bruising the small of his back while angry red lines raise from the rake of your nails down the skin of his chiseled back.

"I'm, fuck, I'm gonna cum angel," you'll realized later this was a warning, an indirect question of where should he cum but not now. Now, the statement merely warms your blood further, ignites your veins in a sanguine inferno as you push the pads of your fingers into his skin, bidding him impossibly closer.

Your lips dot desperate affection against the slope of his shoulder as you shudder, "don't stop, please, so close."

Closer than you realized as that tightly wound coil in your lower belly breaks and blinding white light floods your vision when his mushroomed tip kisses your cervix from an out of sync rut. You arch as you inhale a sharp gasp, senses overwhelmed by the conflicting feeling of numbness at the base of your spine and the electricity that shocks the rest of it.

You moan, loudly and unabashedly as your teeth sink into the flesh exposed to you in a vain attempt to ground yourself.

Your velveteen walls constrict around his sensitive cock with an equal intensity that sends him over the edge with you, punctuated by a low, drawn out growl as he spills into you.

Sticky ropes painting pretty walls pearly as he works you both through relieving rapture. The rolls of his hips becoming languid and sweet as his lips meet yours, cupping your cheek lovingly as he tastes you once more. You coax him down as well, fingers gripping at his ribs as your thighs tighten around his waist.

You hum tiredly as you slowly descend from your third and sudden high, massaging at the mark you'd left on his shoulder sweetly; laying a kiss to it soon after as Dante trails his lips lower, to your cheek first and then your jawline. He stalls along your pulse point, lips lingering along the column so he could feel the thrum he affected before it begins to slow to its typical steady beat.

Dante rolls off of you with a satisfied sigh, all but flipping onto his side as he pulls you to him, tucking you into him when you turn as well.

"Take a lot out of you? Thought you were supposed to be a star athlete," you tease as he adjusts again, moving to lay on his back as you settle against his chest. You giggle when he scoffs, heaving a tired, simple bark of laughter as his fingers comb through his hair. He's careful not to brush it back the way his twin does, brushing it just enough to unplaster it from his tacky skin as he exhales a steadying breath.

"Was putting my best effort forward baby," purred as his arm wraps around you to tuck you securely into his side.

You don't respond at first, opting to simply hum in agreement, content to bask in the afterglow of your coupling while you draw indistinct patterns along Dante's bare torso.

"I need to text Cara soon," you say after a long moment, Dante's eyes having long since slipped shut and his breathing evened. You'd almost thought he'd fallen asleep until he hums in acknowledgment, "just to let her know I'm okay. I only told her I was going on a walk, I'm not ready for her 'I told you so' yet."

"Oh, so you were telling her about how in love you were with me," Dante teases before you jab your fingers playfully into his ribs. He laughs when you squirm like you're going to try and get up, tightening his hold on you to keep you in place and you relent easily enough, "Vergil said he was going on a walk too. Kinda weird he isn't back yet."

You giggle at that, sitting up to rest your chin on his chest as you tease, "maybe he pulled a 'me' and wound up at my dorm with Cara."

Dante laughs, a full bellied one that shakes your head on his torso as he folds his other arm behind his head leisurely, "they'd tear each other apart. Verge said they're 'amicable at best' now though."

A moment of silence stretches before you two give one another a speculative look. You lift yourself up without any fight from Dante this time, throwing your legs over the side of his mattress, glancing over your shoulder at him, "no way though.. right?" If you thought hard enough, truly combed through every instance, you'd register certain actions and reactions as suspicious, "I mean.. they did start acting differently after their project together."

"Only one way to find out," Dante grunts as he moves to stand, stretching his limbs before searching the littered floor Vergil chastised him for earlier for a clean shirt. He finds a hoodie at best, tossing you the other he found instead of your crew neck while you slip on your bra, "plus, you should grab some clothes to keep over here. For sure gonna need another pair of panties unless you wanna sleep in my boxers tonight."

You cast a cursory glance over your shoulder, brow quirked with a giddy smile tugging at full lips when he continues, "y'know, since I ripped yours."

Dante completely glazes over the fact that he planned to have you over more often, perhaps because it just felt obvious to him whenever you needed him to spell out that he wanted something serious with you. Hell, he even halfway hoped you both would find Vergil with your roommate, as implausible as that sounded to him when he remembered which brother he was talking about.

But he's watched enough rom-coms with his mother, Eva, where college couples struggled to get any privacy because of their roommates, Vergil being in a relationship with yours would solve that issue before it became one. One less thing to worry about because he hoped, at least, you wouldn't work as many hours as you were but Dante doesn't dream of changing you. It likely wouldn't be an issue either, you only worked so many extra hours because you were trying to avoid Dante; now you had no reason to.

"You're still gonna buy me a new pair, by the way," you call as you slip into a pair of his joggers, figuring with the suns set, the night will be too cold for dolphin shorts. Plus, the idea of wearing tight shorts sans underwear while Dante's spend is beginning to leak from you did not sound appealing in the slightest.

You turn to him once you're fully decent, standing before him as his expression softens at the sight of you. Fondness breeding in his chest as he reaches for you, pulling you to tuck into his side as you add, "a good boyfriend would do that, maybe even pick out a cute pair. And without complaining!"

It's mostly a tease, but Dante coming along with you to shop for 'intimates' he could pick out as well did excite you, however.

You didn't get that impression from Dante though, hell half the time, from what you gathered without actively paying attention to him between all you're studies and overloaded schedule, it didn't seem like he even really cared that much for the sport. At least, not like the way his teammates did, all of them constantly playing and preparing for a talent scout; each of them striving to be on their best game, but not Dante. He always seemed rather blasé about it. Like he only played the sport for fun, hardly taking it seriously unlike his younger brother (now a freshman himself while Dante was in his junior year ) who was the actual quarterback while the younger Sparda twin is happily stationed on the side wings of the field as the wide receiver.

Well, at least that's what your friend Cara told you he was when you innocently inquired. You didn't know anything about the sport, didn't care to know either; which, of course, lead her to teasing you about your sudden interest, poking you playfully as you make attempts to dismiss the subject.

"What's got you so curious, hm?" she all but purrs while invading your personal space, one of the few people that could do so without having your temper flaring. "That another thing you want to 'study'? Adding logistics to your repertoire and your already packed courses?"

She reaches for your flash cards, snatching them all save the one you're currently scribbling at instead of eating your too expensive sandwich for lunch.

"Hey!" you whine as you react too late to her pilfering but her features are set in staunch determination, scowling as she points her clawed index at your forgotten food. You sigh as you relent, taking the plastic wrapped meal to finally nibble at, "no I am not adding anything else to study. I was just curious is all."

"You're never 'just' curious," teasing as she takes your final note card, inspecting it while chewing thoughtfully at a chocolate chip muffin she got in leu of a meal, much to your chagrin. She sticks her tongue out at you playfully as she adds the card to your neatly piled stacked, leaning closer to you with her voice low, "I think you're curious about a certain member of the team named Sparda."

Your skin warms slightly, raising a degree as you give your unwavering attention to your sandwich as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Humming as your friend and roommate leans into your peripheral, "Nero? As if, he's sweet though, you know he's seeing that girl from the all girls Catholic school? Kyrie was her name I think." You offer some plausibly unknown information in the hopes she'll find that more interesting than your reason for asking about positions in a sport you have absolutely zero interest in.

But, like as cat with its prey, she isn't so easily dissuaded, shoving at you near incredulously with a roll of her eyes, "now you know damn good and well I was talking about Dante."

"What about me?" comes a singsong question in an all too familiar breathy tone, a wave of warmth rushing in your veins as a thick forearm drapes over your shoulders, his head leaning between yours and Cara's.

You loathe the involuntary reaction of your body that seems to happen whenever Dante interacts with you more personally, something that's been occurring more frequently since the beginning of your sophomore year.

Your first year had been a nightmare of your own making, having selected all of the earliest classes that you could to schedule your clinical hours later in the evening only for your counselor to inform you that you didn't have enough electoral credits by the end of the first semester. Why the fuck would that even be a requirement? But, of course, you'd have to make accommodations for them.

A normal person would've rearranged the frequency of their required classes or dialed back the amount of clinical hours they were logging. You were not a normal person by any definition of the term, though you did attempt to choose an elective you'd thought would be easy. Something you assumed would be non invasive to your heavy schedule, theater, which had sounded perfect and it was worth two credits with a passing grade; how hard could it possibly be?

Exceptionally, you're soon to learn, for someone with social anxiety and a fear for public speaking.

The first day of class of the fall semester was miserable, forced to introduce yourself and divulge your aspirations as well as your hobbies. That's the day you'd met Dante more directly rather than in passing during lunch or in the courtyard and hallways in the race to your next lesson.

And nearly everyday after that first class, you were late, much to your absolute dismay. Wether you liked the class or not, you hated being tardy, priding yourself on your exemplary time management skills. It infuriated you that no matter what you did, how hard you worked or how fast you ran, you never made it over that fucking threshold before that damn door is mocking shut in your face.

But you weren't only late by just a few seconds to a handful of minutes, no, there were days you missed half or the majority of the lesson or exercise. The only reason you bothered to show up at all was because the instructor, Ms. Terrywether or Ms. T for sure, was kind enough to count your attendance so long as you showed up and made an active attempt to learn and engage once you had.

Though you guess even a sweet teacher had their limits or even their bad days because upon your late arrival, she decided to reprimand and chastise you plenty in front of the entire class before sending you to the only available seat.

All the way in the back, right next to Dante, who, once again, wasn't even conscious from what you could tell; he never was any time you managed to attend the elective.

He was leaning back in his chair, feet kicked up and crossed over the other onto the tabletop in front of him with his hands folded neatly over his abdomen, eyes closed with his head lolled backwards. The sound of your backpack and over the shoulder book bag falling to the floor with a deft but hefty thud and the scrape of your chairs legs startles him awake as you flop into your seat petulantly.

Dante blinks blearily a couple of times, running his hand over his face as he lowers his seats feet to the floor, "hey, late again? Id offer to take notes for ya, but…" He gestures around vaguely then, as if what he was referring to went without saying.

It irked you, already agitated in general and he's made himself the unsuspecting target of your ire.

"But, what? Because it's theater? Or because you were asleep again and somehow didn't get bitched at for it even though you're always fucking asleep." You lash out at him as you sassily flick your hair over your shoulder and cross one leg over the other as you glare at him with a precious pout. Face hot from the residual embarrassment upon your arrival compounded by the near instant feeling of guilt for biting his head off after his brows and hands raised in surprise and surrender sequentially.

A moment of awkward silence stretches between you both as Ms. T prattles on about methods of acting and the periods in which they hailed.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," you offer after a spell, squirming uncomfortably after your agitation had fully subsided, "I appreciate your offer though, y'know, if you'd stayed awake to have anything to offer."

You try to tease playfully, you weren't sure if it would fall flat or not though, Cara always said not everyone understood your humor but that's not your fault; you weren't for everyone.

But Dante seemed to understand, chuckling before he tilted his head at you with an easy smile, "don't worry about it sweetheart, I get it. My brother always says I should take things more seriously too, find some motivation. Maybe making sure I can tell you everything ya miss will be just the thing."

"Your brother sounds like my kinda guy," you comment nonchalantly, noncommittally as you twirl the end of a tendril of hair before giving him your gaze once more. "Still, kinda shitty of me though. You gonna nap a bit more? Promise to wake you before class is over," you say it cutely, ever childishly extending your pinky to seal the deal.

Dante takes it in turn, breezy smile and softened features that pleasantly warms your blood, "you're an angel."

"Angel? the sound of his voice pulls you from a reverie you'd unintentionally fallen in, zoning back in as your friend Cara nudges you playfully, parroting Dante a bit, "yeah angel~, what were we talking about again?"

Your skin warms again, rolling your eyes with a playful scoff as you tilt slightly away from Dante, "I was talking about our next period. Mentioned how I was wondering what you'd come up with to derail our exercises today."

Dante laughs at that, adjusting in order to dramatically clutch at his shirt over his heart, "derail? Is that what you think of my heartfelt performances? Ouch."

His tone is light, still breathy in the way his sentences trail, wholly unlike the forced dramatics he opted to during your during your elective hour, though it still makes you giggle cutely. Cara rolls her eyes at the pair of you with no ill intent, seemingly content enough to drop the subject entirely but that was no surprise, she would never do anything to embarrass you maliciously. You're just glad you could think on your feet fast enough, feeling juvenile for the way you've behaved in regards to your affinity and interactions with the man with naturally starlit locks.

Honestly, you weren't immune to the effect of Dante, especially not after gradually getting to know him. He was obviously kind, covertly caring and exceedingly engaging in conversation if he was interested enough in it. You could see where some people say he's a little standoffish, you've even witnessed it personally a handful of times though it wasn't aimed at you specifically. You think people just aren't very good at seeing the subtleties of his mood souring, never catching it until his expression falls to something less friendly and his tone darkens.

You've always been a quick study, anyone with eyes should be able to tell the nuances to a person like Dante but you chalk your keen eye up to your childhood and the field of study you've chosen as your career path.

Patients were rarely honest, be it shame or the dishonesty with themselves, it didn't matter; it was the healthcare providers job to get as accurate of a read on their patient as possible.

Was it really your fault that you applied that skill to aspects of your personal life? You didn't think so, it certainly helped you avoid some potentially draining or derailing relationships. Besides, it's just an infantile crush, something borne of proximity and a number of enjoyable interactions. Who wouldn't have a good time with someone like Dante? It went without saying that he had a charming personality and was more than easy on the eyes.

Regardless of all that, you didn't have the time to pursue any romantic or recreational endeavors, focused solely on your career with the intent to bypass working in certain facilities and fast track into a private practice; with enough certifications and vocational hours, it should be entirely possible.

You absolutely don't have time for distractions.

"Speaking of," Dante sighs as he reaches for your uneaten bag of dill pickle flavored chips, popping one into his mouth only for his features to contort into disgust at the soured onslaught. You scowl waggishly, snatching the bag from him while Cara watches the exchange with her own impish smirk, "you gonna be on time today or do I get some barely needed beauty sleep?"

"Why would it matter if she was on time or not for you to nap, Dante?" Cara pipes up suddenly, garnering both of your attention with some minute traces of surprise. You can already tell by the sassy little smile and the way she postures herself with her chin resting on the back of her hand that her curiosity is not genuine. Proving her point the moment she was her manicured fingers at you with a wink following her query.

"Huh?" he hums slightly as he reaches for your half finished strawberry flavored sparkling water, unconsciously bringing it to his lips as if it were his own, "I nap if angel isn't gonna be there—" Dante takes a hefty swig of the beverage, which he discovers quickly that he doesn't enjoy; lolling his tongue out with a pronounced euck sound as he hands it back to you while you playfully puff out your cheeks at him, "the strawberry flavor barely makes that halfway decent sweetheart."

"It's fine it's just not goddamn V8 juice or that piss water you call beer so you don't like it," huffed as you snatch your drink back, finally making eye contact with your friend when you do.

Cara bears a knowing smile on her pretty features, brows hiked high as hues of melted chocolate flit between you and Dante over the exchange between you. You've know doubt the teasing comments will be relentless later, surely mentioning how she loved the way you two absolutely forgot I was sitting next to you. But sure, neither of you are into the other at all. Completely platonic, I believe it.

"Mhm," she singsongs, splaying her palms onto the tabletop as she moves to stand, "interesting. Anyway, I'll let you two run along to theater, be sure to tell me all about it when you get back to our dorm, mkay?"

Dante cocks his head in confusion at Cara's initial tone but disregards it with a shrug quickly. Dazzling grin finding his lips when he turns to you, "oh so you'll actually be on time for once huh? Guess I can skimp on the beauty sleep just to keep you entertained."

His tone is joking, nearly purring his final word as his arm snakes around your shoulders when you stand as well. Dante pulls you into his side naturally, something he's done a multitude of times in the year and some months you've known one another.

However, now, the action leaves you feeling flush, cheeks pooling with heat though not from the action itself but from how it can be and has been perceived.

Your friend was one thing, an intuitive and insightful woman that would certainly tease you; that was expected, allowed, she was a dear friend of yours and trusted confidant.

Others, however, is what really concerned you. Mean girls and bullies that never grew out of their high school personalities that would resort to unsightly behaviors in the name of a mans affection. How juvenile; and truly, it wasn't of any actual concern, you were an adult and any substantial harassment could be dealt with accordingly through proper channels.

You simply didn't want to deal with it, you were busy, ambitious, you knew what you came here for and it wasn't to fraternize with frat aligned compatriots; not that Dante was like any of the frats you've seen on campus, sure had the diet of one though.

And, even despite your trepidation and wariness, you don't detach from Dante, don't pull from your place beneath his arm. You do enjoy him, that you allow yourself, you don't think anyone could endure such a ridiculously rigorous schedule of their own making without some allowance for pleasantries like this.

Anyone besides Dante's older twin, Vergil, of course. If only you truly knew about his own personal exploits, things that the one he shared a womb with didn't know and what Vergil wouldn't divulge to willingly; not only because it wasn't his business, but because he doubted the man could keep from telling you those juicy details.

Besides, it was unlikely (to you) that Dante would harbor any romantic feeling towards you, he had a lot going on in his own respect too; plus, you felt as if you were complete opposites. If there was any attraction at all (that you would still refuse to acknowledge) it was sexually at most. You weren't dumb nor were you blind, you knew the figure you had was eye catching— especially your ass and bosom respectfully.

You doubt Dante was in search of a serious, committed relationship at all and neither were you, not right now, nor were you keen on the prospect of casual trysts. However, you have toyed with the notion of both options of so fleetingly.

Sure, he makes you laugh and he's considerate but you knew for a fact he was a bit of a slob and was more the talkative social butterfly where you were not. You enjoyed your moments of silence and solitude whereas Dante would surely lose his mind or explode form the lack of stimulation. You've both witnessed and experienced firsthand how he will instigate an argument or simply pester whoever Dante wanted to engage with until he garnered a reaction. Namely his older twin and baby brother, but still, case in point.

You also knew well that he rarely took anything seriously, something his twin has scolded him incessantly over and you're inclined to side with Vergil on that. Theater and football were the only things you'd known him to actually put any real effort to and even that wasn't on a consistent basis.

There were plenty of cons you could search for as a counter to an argument nobody but you was posing for feelings you say you don't harbor, but that was hardly productive; so, you use the time it takes to cross campus wisely.

Patting at your hip for the bag that usually rhythmically bounces against it from your hastened pace only to feel its absence instead. Muted panic seizes your heart and your stride, stalling abruptly and jarring Dante as you pivot.

"Whoa, whoa," he nearly coos but doesn't tighten his hold on you to keep you in place, "what's goin on? Everything okay?"

"No," you sigh dejectedly as you leave Dante's side, despondent over the likelihood of yet another late arrival and exasperated at the fact it was due to your own carelessness, "my bag. I left all my notes and my change of scrubs in the café."

You're already adjusting the straps of your backpack that houses all of your textbooks and supplies so it doesn't bounce irritatingly as you job back. You're certain it will still be there, there wasn't anything of value within it unless you counted the ridiculously priced patternless scrubs you purchased before learning about the trade supply company that should them at a discounted cost.

"I'll be late, agai—" you glance over your shoulder at Dante who bore an ingratiating simper as he easily dangled the weighted tote with two fingers. Relief floods your system, bidding your shoulders to slump as you heave a stolid suspire.

He must've grabbed it for you without your notice, obviously so distracted, frazzled by your own fault, that you didn't notice you'd forgotten your ever present parcel. Even though it was kind of him to grab it, saving you trouble Dante knows well would torment you (however inconsequential the lapse in character was), and that the blunder was unmistakeably your own; it was due to Dante's presence and how you react to him.

That was another glaring reason you couldn't indulge in him in any aspect, he distracted you, made you lose focus.

Betraying that resolution instantly when you allow him to scoop you under his arm once more as he holds out the bag without the intention of relinquishing it to you. Offering it to you in order to fish out whatever it was you desired before tucking you into his side once more; leaning into your space curiously as you shuffle through your index cards, now making sure you hadn't abandoned any.

Humid puffs of breath fan rhythmically against your temple and cheek, something that would often and consistently irk you into a diluted rage. You weren't fond of incessant points of contact, oft repulsed by it actually; but, of course, Dante found himself becoming an exception to the rules.

"You write down all the reasons you're in love with me and ways to confess?" He says it teasingly, cheeky little expression on his features as shock paints your own, blood warming uncomfortably, feeling as though he'd heard your inner monologue.

But why would it if that weren't the truth? If what you harbor for him is little more than the shallow appreciation for his looks and physique?

So you scoff indignantly, elbowing him in the ribs to grant yourself some much needed space though both actions lack ill intent. Subtly fanning your skin with a flash card but posturing it enough for the illusion of semantics, "oh yeah, absolutely, let me tell you about it. My favorite has to be," you shuffle your stack before taking one at random, "my comprehensive yet incomplete list of standard procedural and medical abbreviations."

Dante rolls his lower lip between his teeth, pointed incisor biting into the sensitive flesh while his index performatively pulls at his collar, "oh, you know I love a girl that says a bunch of words that sound important."

His tone is airy, playful in nature but the purr to it does little to abate the heat that still pinches at your epidermis. Granted reprieve only by stepping over the threshold of the theater room, guided in first by the younger Sparda twin at the small of your back as he follow after, greeted by a chorus callings of his name.

Energy met unevenly but not disingenuously as he waves, finger guns and winks his way to the seat next to your own. Soon finding his trademark leisurely stance as Ms. Terrywether enter the room, quieting it with a jarring slam of the heavy door and an exaggerated clatter of her belongings to the floor next to her podium.

She grips tightly at the edges of the matte material, wild look in her eyes as she scans over every one of her students; a desired hush blanketing thickly over you and your peers. Her form relaxes seconds after, satisfied smile gracing thin, gloss adorned lips as it contorts into something more smug in nature.

"That will be our exercise for today's session," she declares haughtily with a dramatic flail of her wrist before fixing anything on her person that may have fallen out of sorts. Lithe digits combing through pin straight locks that gray at the roots primarily along the fringe that frames her face, conveying a distinguished and dignified look about her.

Another student raises their hand halfheartedly, confusion compounded with mild annoyance marring his features, "um what exactly? Acting batshit insane?"

There's a smattering of murmured agreements that sound after his statement, sparse chuckles and whispers filling the space as your instructor rounds the podium. She takes easy strides, one foot placed directly in front of the other with a confident sway of her hips as she drags the mobile stand behind her. Tutting as she's reaches the leftmost wing of the raised platform meant to mimic the auditoriums grand stage.

"In a way, you are correct," her sensible heels clack against the laminated plyrun, tempered and tested by a plethora of performances. She comes to stand before the student who postures himself slovenly, one arm slung over his seat as he leans to the opposite side, "but, only in the most rudimentary of ways. Listen closely my little pup, today you will need to present combatively!"

It's obvious to you that your classmates still aren't grasping what it is they'll be doing, you've got a solid idea but it's unlikely you'll explain. Instead you tap your pencil against the web of your palm as your mind wanders, casting a cursory glance to Dante whose expression, while neutral and relaxed, bearing a raised brow at the most, tells you he is with the vast majority.

His head lolls lazily in your direction, pursing his lips cutely (objectively speaking) and widening his eyes slightly as if he were already fighting to stay awake. You nudge him playfully to which he responds disproportionately, saying in the direction he's pushed before tilting back and leaning his weight against you while your professor prattles on in the background; now tuned out as you react to Dante in turn.

He grunts on an exhaled huff as his weight offsets your balance, your whine and meager shove at him goading Dante into imposing more of himself on you before both of your names are called with an agitated hiss.

"Since you both have begun your own beguiling improvisation, do us all the honor of acting out our first scene for the afternoon. Please do attempt to keep it concise out of respect for my and your peers time."

And there's that moment that you hate again, those instances where you have unwanted attention cast upon you, raising the temperature of your body in a flash. The unpleasant warmth radiating from your chest to your extremities that threatens to consume you before Dante's fingers dip beneath your own as they begin to bite into your thigh.

A fleeting touch but a comforting one nonetheless as he hoists himself up with an exaggerated grunt, standing tall as he raises his arms above his head with his fingers interlaced; tilting from one side to the next in an effort to 'limber up' like he often did before practice or a game.

Though there was not all eyes on him, any you felt were lingering in you slide to him as he groans as if he'd awaken from a nap.

"I'd love to teach, but I've got one question for ya," Dante sighs as he steps down one, then another before glancing at you to see if you were prepared. You tuck your hair behind your ear as you draw in a clarifying breath, calming your nerves as you follow his lead. You weren't sure when Dante became so well versed in your mood and reactions but, now more than ever, you're grateful for the fact and how effortless he made it seem to adjust and accommodate.

You didn't think your discomfort was obvious but anyone would learn those sorts of tells in over a year of getting to know someone.

Certainly for someone as intuitive as Dante, you've seen him advocate for his more introverted twin in spaces ill suited for his personality and personal preference a handful of times.

Ms. Terrywether quirks her brow while her arms fold beneath her bosom, twisting her wrist in a circle as her fingers waggle at him expectantly, mild agitation mounting.

You would think someone with her profession would appreciate Dante's penchant for the dramatics. Urging you to stifle your giggle as he steps onto the stage and offering his hand of assistance.

"Are you," he starts as he hoists you up the three inch incline, bowing slightly with his hand held in a blade with his other arm outstretched behind him. Waiting as you find your spot on stage as he swivels to face your fellow classmates, now joined by Ms. T, and extends both of his arms, "ready for the best performance you've ever seen?"

A chorus of cheers and claps couple with muted chuckles and giggles, something only Dante himself could accomplish before completing the actual performance he was charged with.

"I'm waiting, Sparda," she scoffs irritably as Dante turns to you, gesturing his hand in a waving motion for you to take the lead.

Despite how you can feel the attention of your classmates direct to you, you don't shy or grow uncomfortable; choosing instead to focus on the charismatic man encouraging you with his eyes in front of you. You inhale slowly, turning on the ball of your foot to begin the scene you conjure on the fly, mining the action of kicking off your shoes and unloading your belongings upon arriving home.

Dante tilts his head as if to peek over your shoulder when you sigh bereftly, "something wrong, angel?"

You don't answer at first, turning further away from him when you hear him take a step closer to you, "c'mon sweetheart, talk to me."

He extends his arm to reach out and touch you, to place it on your shoulder in an effort to get you to face him. You can sense the impending contact, whirling on him as the back of your hand slaps his away. The action shocks him, taken aback and you have the fight a proud smile, furrowing your brows and forcing a frown instead as you fold your arms over your chest, "nothing. Nothing's wrong, nothing to talk about."

Dante's brows creep high on his forehead, the beginnings of a smirk tugging at one corner of his lip before he follows your lead. He loosens his shoulders, shrugging slightly as he takes a few leisurely steps to the right of you and you follow his movements, turning as if you don't want to face him and Dante takes the initiative to wrap his arms around you. He pulls you to him, resting his chin on your crown when your back is flush to his chest.

Heat rushes through you with this proximity as well as how intimate this sort of handling is, your eyes downcast in order to maintain composure as Dante sighs above you, "C'mon sweetheart, I'd know something was wrong even if it wasn't written all over your face."

"Doubt that," you scoff, tucking hair behind your ear as you turn your face further from him as Dante attempts to lean into your view."

Your heart hammers against your ribcage as his low chuckle vibrates into your form and his breath fans over the shell of your ear. His hand comes up to cradle your chin, guiding you to give him your gaze as he husks, "you always kiss me when you get home."

Dante's actions make you feel flush, turning away from him without freeing yourself from his loose hold, indulging intentionally as you cast a glance downward for a suspended moment, regarding the floor with an intense scrutiny as you search for what to say. You needed to find a reason to refute his comment, a reason to be upset in this scenario; you'd initiated this with the concept of roommates but with Dante's interpretation leading you down a romantic route, you don't wholly have to adjust your original idea. Cohabitation with a partner can come with a whole wealth of issues, same as a roommate you don't particularly align with but the feelings you share can cause the disagreement to become more inflammatory.

You take a moment more to solidify your argument before you scoff, "well, maybe I'd want to kiss you if I didn't have to climb over a mountain of trash and junk to get there." Turning to smile at him wryly, brow furrowing to fix him with a haughty expression as his own grin spreads further.

Dante's grasp grows slightly firmer on your chin again, crystalline hues falling to your lips with a muted intensity that you don't miss as his thumb swipes over your bottom lip. He pulls the plump flesh down gently before his eyes meet yours once more, "gotta climb them to reach me anyway dontcha? I'm just giving you a boost is all, even though I do think your tiptoeing is cute."

"Stop it," you shake your head to force yourself from his loose grasp, pushing from him hesitantly before brushing over your hair. Flustered as you also smooth down your clothes despite nothing being out of place, "I'm being serious. I need you to take this seriously for once and not try to charm your way out of it."

Unwittingly you've allowed some truth to seep into the scene, some authenticity tainting the act without your intention, all because of how he made your heart race, "I'm busy all the time, focused on what you agree is important. I go from one priority to the next and while I think it's great that you can go with the flow, you telling me I should learn to relax or trying to coax me like this doesn't help the way you think it does."

You chance a glance at Dante when you finish, lifting your arms to wrap around yourself in a loose embrace upon seeing his expression. You knew well that he was an intuitive person, you were no exception despite how you tried to lie and say that you were, though it wasn't as if anyone else would really think so but he was. He was subtle with how he accommodated and adjusted to different types of people and their personalities.

Sure, he presented a breezy, uncaring, hedonistic persona that plenty of men and women alike enjoyed but Dante harbored a huge, compassionate and sensitive heart.

Sometimes it was just his delivery that could be misconstrued or, in your case, become grating in its own right. He wasn't the only person to ever tell you that you were too high strung; though, the ways in which Dante broached the subject always struck a chord. Likely because he'd used some innuendo or was too playful about it, noncommittal and that bothered you for reasons you refused to acknowledge.

You two were fundamentally different, you have to fully accept that and now was as good a time as any, in a situation where the air wouldn't be as awkward. Telling yourself now that the fun you have with him is just that, resigning yourself to it as you take a step back as Dante takes a step forward. He feels an unknown urgency to do so, brows furrowing as he nears you but his tone is still light, offering a placation in the form of a sweet coo, "c'mon angel. It's just been a bad day, that's all, I'll help clean up."

"It hasn't," you respond hastily, the sound coming out more biting than you meant it to but the unintentional minimizing of the feelings Dante is unaware that you're feeling burdens your tongue.

He doesn't stall, however, taking another measured step forward as you turn petulantly from his sight. You've grown agitated with yourself more than Dante himself because this was irrational— one sided. Unfortunately you're painfully aware of how utterly insane it was to be behaving this was, but, you've always put your entire being into everything you've done.

All or nothing, all the time.

Besides, you're frustrated with yourself over your own waning focus, this argument is just the precursor to your journey down realignment.

"I think it's great that you can be carefree, that you can just live comfortably however you want, I really do; but I can't. You're blaze about things I would agonize over. You lack conviction, commitment, real commitment, too," you sound like Vergil to Dante in this moment; just bearing less vitriol and agitation, any you may feel doesn't feel directed at him.

But even still, he steps closer to you, closing the gap to pull you closer before you can step out of his reach, "angel, baby, listen—"

"This isn't going to work, we don't," you inhale sharply, surprised at the way he pulls you into him, nearly crushing you to his chest. Dante feels some driving force within him to keep you from finishing that sentence, stop you from convincing yourself that it was true.

It wasn't, not to him, he knows it shouldn't be for you either.

He cups your face then, palm caressing your cheek as you lift your chin to meet his gaze. Surprise paints your pretty features, brows raised and lips parted on a silent exhale, like your next died on plump flesh.

Dante's lids fall to half mast, crystalline hues searching your face, thumb swiping gently over the apple of your cheek before his head dips lower. His nose brushes against yours in subtle hesitation, giving you a chance to pull away though he doesn't want you to and, when you don't, he presses forward. Digits delicately yet deliberately threading into your hair, cupping beneath your ear to pull you into the kiss, applying more pressure to it.

The contact is gentle, tentative, that you could think if you didn't know any better— didn't know Dante better— you could delude yourself into thinking it was out of respect for a fellow classmate; that this kiss was for the sake of the scene and scene only, purely improve for shock value.

But you know that isn't the case, heart hammering in your ears as you melt into the kiss. There was something more to this, you knew that, felt that there were unspoken feelings that you wanted so desperately to ignore; or, better yet, completely deny the existence of it entirely.

Everything you said was true, they were cons you'd considered more than you cared to admit when it came to enjoying whatever sort of relationship could come about; though all of that wanes from existence as you allow yourself to fall into him. Your chest pressing against his, fingers curling into the fabric of his long sleeve Henley as you return the pleasant pressure into the contact.

You sigh audibly as Dante holds you closer, hand sliding further into your hair to cup the curve of your skull as his other arm wraps tighter around your frame. His lips slide against you're slowly, minutely adjusting to slot your bottom lip between his but he pulls away a moment later in an effort to not become too impassioned. Humid breath fanning against your skin with his huffed exhale, fingers moving to brush hair from your face as your lashes flutter open; as if you needed a moment to return to the present.

The expression he bears is tender, vulnerable, a rare sight you've been privileged enough to witness a handful of instances in the time you've known him.

"Don't say that," he all but sighs, searching for something in your eyes, his name stalling on the tip of your tongue, surely the softest you'll ever utter it before emphatic clapping jars you both from the moment.

You'd almost forgotten you were standing before all your classmates, performing for them.

"Brava! Bravissimo!" Ms. Terrywether cheers, dramatically swiping her index along her waterline as if she were move to tears by the performance as she steps onto the stage to stand in front of you and Dante. He still holds you closely, hardly budging, only prying his eyes from you when you squirm and attempt to pull from his grasp.

You curl your index and middle finger as you raise your hand to about chest level, dipping your head as you press both of your middle phalanx mimicking the pressure of Dante's lips moments prior; your mind wandering far from your teachers emphatic praise. Something about exemplary improvisation and a wondrous demonstration of a complex relationship, unable to pay it any mind, let alone graciously accept it.

You wear a faraway gaze, thoughts in full chaos as you look over the room, warming over the stares you receive as you scurry back to your seat while Dante saunters behind you.

If his eyes are on you, which they are, you don't have the wherewithal to register it. You plop into your seat and all but curl into yourself as Dante finds his place next to you. He sits comfortably, casually and (in your clouded mind) unaffected as he stretches out once again, lounging about but now he drapes his arm over the back of your seat while two other classmates take their places on stage.

You don't focus on the dramatics that ensue, can't focus, not while Dante pulls yours chair closer to his with relative ease; an action you've never over thought before the plethora of times you've been subject to his familiarity. It's now a maddening happenstance, the other students that sit on the wings of your peripherals whisper amongst themselves, words you're unable to discern.

You're inherently under the assumption that whatever they discuss now will pertain to everything that's transpired between you and Dante. Agitating you because the scene, the kiss, this current posturing between the pair of you isn't particularly the problem; it's simply because of who it involves.

This all may very well be an act of your own paranoia but even still. If any of this occurred between some random man whose last name wasn't Sparda, there wouldn't be anything worth gossiping about. There wouldn't be anything to speculate over nor contort into fabrications for entertainment or drawn beyond this very room that encouraged both.

You bounce your foot anxiously, hastened speed that jostles your bag and Dante's person as you agonize over exaggerated possibilities yet not one scenarios seems unfounded. Worrying your lip as a glaze falls over your eyes, recalling the last debacle pertaining to one of those three infernal siblings that came about from those of the student body that were obsessed with philandering about that anything else. You were pretty sure the poor girl that was involved had to transfer to a sister school to escape the fallout over something harmless.

Even an innocent interaction with one of the three men all but stoked jealous flames that resulted in cat fights, smear, or harassment (sometimes both consecutively) campaigns for the unsuspecting student. It was juvenile, truly, you couldn't reiterate that enough.

Heaven forbid anyone found out about the sweet girl, Kyrie, that Nero was infatuated with. Her being from another campus wouldn't matter to any of his admirers in the slightest, you were certain; even despite the well known fact that Nero didn't take kindly to persistent unwanted advances.

Your mind is wrought with a wealth of worrying possibilities in multiple aspects, ripping skin from your lip as you gloss over each one.

"Hey," Dante leans towards you, flexing his arm to tilt you closer in turn, "you okay angel?"

His softness sinks into your skin, nestles into your psyche as an effectual calming force, one you choose to shrug off when you rise from your seat hastily.

This is stupid, I'm not going to worry about this, especially not while literally leaning into the actual fucking problem, you think to yourself as you casually but expertly avoid Dante's steadying hand that extends towards you. You gather your things, slinging both bags over your shoulders while quickly clambering from the staggered seating as the next scene ends.

"Clinical's," you call to your theater teacher when you're already over the threshold of her classroom and partially down the hall; already settling to yourself that some realignment is necessary.

Fortunately, the facility in which you train and log your hours was short-staffed, choosing to work over your typical schedule as often as you could following your 'interaction' with Dante. You absolutely weren't avoiding anything because there wasn't anything to avoid, right?

That's why you skipped lunch in the cafe the next day and all the ones to follow that despite multiple texts from Cara telling you to 'get your ass here to pick at your food while I bitch about vampire prince.' And, as tempting as that proverbial tea was to hear, you needed a well deserved rest after multiple extended and overworked shifts.

However, you wouldn't be so fortunate to subvert Cara's meddling nor her concern for you since you two shared a room and after another skipped lunch, she's less than pleased with you. She returns to your shared dorm in a huff, scowling at the you shaped lump still occupying your mattress well into the afternoon.

You never sleep that late and Cara is sure to point that out in her signature 'tough love' way as she rips open the blackout curtains that hang over the singular window stationed at the center of the room that divides your two full sized mattresses to let in some much needed sunlight.

"Give me a break," you whine pathetically to your friend, cracking open heavy lids to see your friends disapproving expression, "I worked overtime last night Care-bear." Your tone turns teasing at the affectionate pet name you know she hates, hoping to have her bite on that instead but no such luck; though, she does hit you with the rolled pillow from her own bed she often cuddled with.

"Cut the crap, you've been up until three in the morning before and still woke up at eight at the latest. You only sleep this hard when you're upset or avoiding something," Cara points out with ominous accuracy. You move to lay back down, intent to do exactly as she say currently for this conversation in particular but she hits you playfully once again as she flops onto your mattress.

You groan as you pull the covers higher, attempting to bury beneath the weighted comforter before it's ripped away from you rudely.

"Or," you heave a bereft sigh, conceding as you sit up, "I'm just tired. You've said it yourself remember? That I'm gonna work myself into the ground, now you're gonna keep me from resting?"

"True," Cara initially agrees but she sticks her tongue out at you over your final statement, flicking her hair over her shoulder sassily, "I'm very insightful after all."

That makes your eyes roll but a lighthearted smile finds your lips nonetheless, Cara was right, she was very insightful and she knew you well enough. A fact you wish were the contrary as you hide from your problems in the sanctity of your room that you say are non-issues, rubbing at your temple tiredly as she leans into your field of view.

"You've been acting super avoidant and weird since your favorite Sparda crashed our lunch date before theater."

"I don't remember Vergil doing that," your nose scrunched up as you attempt deflection once again, hating how easily your friend could pick you apart. She grabs at your pillow this time before smacking you with it once, twice after you act surprised and question her antics.

"You're proving my po~int," Cara singsongs as she pelts you with your pillow for the third and final time, forcing your concession once again.

"Fine, fine! You're right, okay? But it's nothing serious, I just realized I haven't been focusing on the things I should be so I just locked myself down again is all."

The impish little smirk on your roommates face makes you hide your own, groaning in defeat despite muffling most of the sound with the pillow you were pelted with moments prior.

"Spill the beans," Cara coos as she adjusts her position, moving to prop herself up against your headboard and pull hair from your face. She creates an open and safe environment for you to vent and confide in her.

You do as you're told, sparing no detail as you recount nearly your entire day to Cara, though she adores that sort of thing. Every occurrence or comment was an important detail to her, context is very key to her as is it for you as well. Though she does interrupt you a fair amount during your recount, particularly pertaining to the instances in which Dante was involved. Your skin warming over every one of her gasps and comments until you have to kick off your covers despite how valiantly you tried to ignore them.

"Bitch," she interrupts again, slapping your arm repeatedly with a wide grin, "bitch! I told you, I'm never wrong."

As much as you love your friend, you find yourself rolling your eyes in her presence plenty at this particular moment, mostly because she is right; and right often. She'd mentioned plenty of times that Dante certainly had feelings for you, feelings she knows well that you have as well despite how you try to vehemently deny them.

You end your little trip down memory lane but Cara has questions, most of which you don't want to answer.

"Lie right now and say you don't have a crush on him. Lie some more and tell me you didn't enjoy every second of that," she sounds downright giddy as she slaps your knee while you run your hand down your face in exasperation.

"That's the problem," you groan while drawing your knees closer to your chest, resting your cheek on the cap, "that I liked it at all. I don't want to have a crush on him."

You don't need to see your best friends face to know what expression she wears, one that's knowing and wry, likely falling into a scowl over your staunch denial of indulgence. She sucks her teeth, the telltale start to a lecture that was well on its way to becoming her signature with how often your behaviors and stubbornness stoked its need.

"You could honestly do far worse than Dante," she begins but your fingers are already combing through your unkempt locks in frustration. "I get it, he's definitely a personality but—"

"No, you don't get it," you hiss as you shove your covers off the bed completely, surprising Cara slightly when you stand and refute. It wasn't often that you became moderately argumentative, least of all with her. You gather your thoughts as you search for a discarded hoodie or sweater before tugging your college branded crew neck over your head as you continue, "you don't have a crush on one of the goddamn Sparda's. Hell, you can barely stand the oldest one and you're mostly indifferent to the youngest but everyone gets along with Dante. Everyone wants Dante."

There's a shift in Cara's expression, particularly at the mention of the oldest of the Sparda siblings but with your mounting frustration and worsening turbulence you either misread it or ignore it entirely.

Fortunately so for her, after all she has her own secrets, you aren't privy to all her exploits; and, even if you had noticed, what she says next is inflammatory enough that you'd drop the subject completely.

She scoffs as she starts, flicking her hair over her other shoulder sassily once more, "so what? What does it matter who wants him if it's obvious that he wants you?"

"Because it isn't fucking obvious!" Exclaimed in a tone and volume that's out of character for you, especially with it being aimed at Cara of all people. You're already tired of this conversation, weary of this subject matter entirely.

If Cara is taken aback by your outburst, she doesn't show it nor is she truly affected by it— something you'll be grateful for later whenever you relive this experience and regret your behavior. You're typically relatively levelheaded, agreeable for the most part and not someone for confrontation especially in regards to frivolous endeavors like fleeting relationships.

But, even still, when Cara was curious, she was someone unfair to inquire, "how is it not? Babes, I get being in denial, I really do, but after what happened in theater? You seriously can't think he's that good at acting or improv."

"You're right," your voice takes on an eerie calm, falling into detachment because this exchange will not reach a concession, not with how stubborn the pair of you could be. You wander your room as you tug on a discarded pair of dolphin shorts, finally fluffing your hair out of the crew neck you'd slipped on earlier as you snatch at your miniature backpack you only used for recreational excursions rather than anything functional. You slip on a pair of furry boots next, unsure weather they're yours or Cara's but it didn't matter as you turned to her at the threshold of your dorm, "I don't think he's dedicated enough to commit that much effort."

It sounds as if you agree with her and if Cara were anyone else, she might've believe that to be the case; but, she was an expert in nuance, well versed in reading between the lines. Your resolute tone made it readily apparent to her that your statement called Dante's interest in a relationship into question and not his acting skills in particular.

Your friend doesn't get the opportunity to give her counterpoint, cut off as you fling your everyday bag over your shoulder; intent on a walk that'll clear your hear or, at the very least, simply free you of this conversation in general.

Clearing your head seems highly unlikely, however, in your honest opinion; already lost in thought as you wander campus aimlessly. You rummage through your bag in search of your headphones, free hand already tapping at the glass screen of your phone, operating on muscle memory alone as you tab into your playlist. It wasn't often that anyone opted to make idle conversation with you, let alone anyone else, campus either bustling or students attempting to enjoy what little time they had to themselves; still, better safe than sorry.

If the musics couldn't drown out your thoughts, it could at least drown out the world around you, which was helpful enough. You let a glaze fall over your eyes, gaze falling to your feet as a few droves of students pass by on either side of you while you let your thoughts wander.

Though the obvious but unfortunate avenue in which they travel plagues you, mind revolving around and infuriating ivory haired man.

You wish these feelings were as fleeting as you claimed them to be, that they were as easy to ignore as they once were but avoidance only seemed to worsen the dilemma.

But, you've been down this road before, just last year as a matter of fact; because, as much as you presented yourself to be this urine willed workaholic, Dante's charms captivated you long ago. Though, you didn't have the added factor of knowing what it was like to be kissed, truly kissed, by him to complicate how you coped with the once waning desire that rages now.

You believed yourself to be a good judge of character, that you could objectively read an interaction with someone well enough after the fact. You could say with some level of confidence that Dante held some level of infatuation with you in turn, so what problem could there possibly be? You were young, exploring a number of things including prospective relationships or sexual escapades while in college wasn't unheard of.

But, you in particular, were a bit intense, more like Vergil (so says Dante and Cara alike) when it came to what it was you wanted out of both your college experience and life after it. Both focused on your education and what you wished to achieve career wise but where you differed from the older twin was the real contributing factor to your vehemence.

You feared getting too attached to a man far more free spirited than yourself, someone you felt could definitely see you as a fleeting fancy. You doubted highly a man that looked the way Dante did desired a committed relationship at this age and you certainly couldn't blame him.

Everything would be far easier and much less complicated had you found interest in his fucking twin instead. Someone fastidious, focused, dedicated, goal oriented, someone a lot easier to fucking avoid.

But no, of course you lost focus on the one that made it incredibly difficult to realign.

You Brian aloud in an involuntary effort to vent your frustration, pass of your fingers finding your temple as you knead a delicately at the thin skin there. You'd wandered towards the fountain in the courtyard before the entrance to the main building, the halfway point between yours and Dante's dorms.

The sound of the water splashing into the shallow pool serves as a welcome reprieve from your turbulent thoughts, if only minutely. Choosing to sit along the ornately designed concrete lip, resting your bag at your feet in time for Vergil to cross your path seemingly undetected on your part.

Typically he would offer you at least some wordless greeting, instead his fingers comb through his hair the same way he often does in an effort to calm himself and recenter. He shifts his gaze in the direction opposite of yours, as if to avoid interaction entirely as he traverses the path you'd just come from.

Witnessing that might've hurt your feelings had you noticed, that is, if him heading towards your shared dorm with Cara wouldn't have piqued your curiosity first.

Luckily for him, he slips by unnoticed, avoiding both troublesome possibilities, though he does hasten his pace; gait now hurrying towards the dorm you'd left your best friend in instead of his usually relaxed, measured strides.

The discovery of their secret, torrid affair certainly would've been a welcome distraction from your own confusing and agitating love life, but no such luck. Another time, perhaps, after your own is settled; secrets pertaining to Vergil can only be kept from Dante's meddling for so long.

You sit for a long while, long enough to loop your playlist and for the grounds to clear of even the typical handful of stragglers one would find at this hour. The few that took evening classes, those that had on campus jobs or bustling to the parking lot to drive further into the city for the ones school didn't offer but gave credits for. You sit for so long that you need to slide to the ground to rest your back against the fountains bowl to alleviate the ache that ails you due to poor posture.

Longer still as the sun begins to dip beneath the west building, no longer blinded by its burning brilliance; instead you're able to enjoy the vibrant pastels the setting celestial paints the sky that holds it.

It all grants a welcome serenity, one that offers you a modicum of clarity, but not much. You'd think to stay longer but you've already grown tired of your playlist and opting to shuffle through liked songs doesn't sound very appealing.

You'd halfway wish you'd brought the book your roommate loaned you last week but you'd been unable to find any real spare time that would warrant toting it about.

It appears it's time to go.

You hoist yourself up, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you trot forward thanks to your momentum, idly tilting your head from one side to the other as you take out your headphones.

Completely zoned out as you meander along the sidewalk before pressing in the doors to the dormitory hallways; enjoying the absence of the student body that normally clogged the path. The halls are surprisingly empty for a Friday evening, not that you'd complain or question it. You assume there was some game for one of the sports your college prided itself over as you stand before your undecorated door.

'We need to put some decoration soon, at least the little cutouts of our initials,' you think idly as your fingers wrap around the polished knob. You turn it, meeting familiar resistance you register too late as you push your weight into it, heavy wood remaining unmoved as your foot kicks the bottom and you run into it face first.

"Huh?" You grunt more to yourself than anything else, rubbing your forehead in confusion. It wasn't like your roommate to lock the door, especially not whenever you've left her alone— something you've chastised and lectured her for plenty.

You try again, shouldering the bare, boring door before scowling when it still doesn't budge. Trying longer than you should until you scoff in annoyance as you move to pay yourself down for your keys. You reach for where your belt loop would be with your keys safely affixed had you put on jeans instead of shorts far too thin for the weather outside and a baggy crew neck. You opt to rummage through your bag for them next but you know that too is a fruitless endeavor, shoulders sagging sadly as you heave a bereft sigh; though, you can't be too upset with her since Cara finally did what you've always asked her to do.

You raise your fist to knock, knuckles wrapping against the door once before it swings open wide, relief flooding your system. You were grateful that your roommate wasn't asleep only for your heart to sink to your feet seconds later and your blood to warm rapidly when Dante greets you instead of Cara.

Confusion mars his handsome features initially before it bleeds into pleasant surprise, demonstrated by his leisurely posturing as his arm raises to prop against the jamb.

You're stunned to silence for a solid few seconds, tucking hair behind your ear as you attempt to peek around him, "what are you doing here?"

"Pretty sure that's my line," Dante coos breathily, smirk on his lips as he moves to lean his shoulder against the wall instead, "since this is my dorm n'all."

"What?" You express genuine perplexion, something he finds endearingly cute until you continue, glancing down the end of the empty hall, "I was pretty sure I saw Vergil walk by earlier."

Even though you didn't, not really, mostly registering him in the peripheral but barely, too consumed in getting lost in your music and musings.

You take a step backwards, skin warming uncomfortably because, 'no way right? No way I absentmindedly came to Dante's dorm instead of mine?' How could you have made such a grievous error?

Though you had made an observation a normal person wouldn't have and commented to Dante once before. Stated in passing the handful of times you'd come to his dorm when you acted as the mediator between Vergil and Cara the month they'd been assigned a 'group project.'

You'd pointed out that the twins dorms was the exact amount of doors down your own hallway, precisely six doors from the entrance on the left, almost dead center of the short wing. Dante had teased you about it then, flustered you by saying, "oh yeah? Wanting to memorize your way to me, sweetheart?"

Dante's shifting jars you from your turmoil, now leaning forward into your space with his arms folded over his broad chest. He wears a smirk on his infuriatingly pretty face that doesn't meet his eyes. He tilts his head at you as he sighs, "aw, don't tell me you were hoping for him instead, sorry to disappoint, but everyone knows I'm the more handsome twin."

You roll your eyes at him, scoffing as you mirror his posture, "do you not have an off switch?" A comment Dante chuckles over himself as he leans back against his door, "and don't you have a game today? I figured that's where everyone was going tonight."

Dante shrugs casually, scratching the back of his head when you cock your hip sassily and begin to tap your foot impatiently, waiting for a real answer. The one you receive only further proves your initial assessment and argument to Cara correct, "pretty sure, but didn't really feel like performing today."

He winks at you, prompting another roll of your eyes and scoff in disbelief, completely missing his point in your shock, "weren't scouts supposed to be there today? Why would you skip out on that?"

Even you know that a scouts attendance was a big deal and golden opportunity for a player, especially for someone with Dante's level of skill. You didn't think even he would dream of squandering such a life changing opportunity.

In a way, you're absolutely correct,however just slightly off base on what you'd consider a priority for him.

"Doesn't really matter to me sweetheart," he stretches slightly, yawning at the peak of it before he settles, "you didn't come here to ask me about a sort you're not interested in, did you angel?"

"I didn't come here at all," you quickly retort, hastily defending yourself in a way that wasn't entirely coherent.

"New theme of yours?" Dante teases but it doesn't sound as playful as he typically would, the tone a bit more biting, "you haven't been coming to class at all either. Not really like you."

Your brows creep high, tilting your head as a disbelieving smile tugs at the corners of your lips, "oh, so you know me that well huh?" Tension toys with your muscles as your arms fold over your chest, mentally attempting to create some invisible barrier Dante is sure to scale or destroy entirely.

"I'd say so," he shrugs again, body language more open as he raises his arm to drape his forearm against the metal framing. He leans ever closer to you, voice lower in volume, like sharing a secret, "know you well enough to say the kiss bothered you. Y'know, since you liked it more than you wanted to."

The brazen confidence in his statement, uttered as if it were an objective fact, makes you spitter indignantly. Incredulous at the sheer audacity and infuriated at his self-assured smirk, as if your reaction were evidence enough to prove him right. You shake your head as you scoff for the umpteenth time in his presence, glancing away from him as you run your tongue along your teeth; but that reaction only encourages Dante to goad further.

"Sound about right then?" He chuckles, smirking as he raises his hands at you in mock surrender, "it's okay, you can be honest with me sweetheart."

"No," you all but seethe lowly, sucking your teeth as you roll your eyes, pivoting on the ball of your foot in preparation to leave, "I really can't."

His smile falls instantly, expression contorting into a simple range of emotions though none of which you'll genuinely consider for now. Not while you choose to cling to a false narrative that doesn't protect you the way that you think it does.

You opt to end the conversation here, to have at least another Dante-less day or two but he extends his arm to stall you without touching you.

"I get too serious with you and you run, I play it safe and you bite." Your brow quirks high in challenge and he sighs, shoulder slumping in slight submission, "gotta give me something here angel."

"Toying with me is playing it safe?" You turn on your heel, expression pinching in indignance as if he'd curse your bloodline before running your palm over your face in a vain attempt at calming yourself. Working to stave off an outburst but you ultimately fail as you hiss, "and give you what Dante? What is it that you want me to say? That I find you attractive like every other motherfucker on this godforsaken campus? That I love spending time with you and it makes me happy?"

You heave in a breath that's meant to be steadying but all it accomplishes is displaying your level of frustration, evident in how rapidly you speak; like you'll swallow your feelings if it doesn't tumble from your lips now. You want to relax but you can't, now realizing the cap to everything you've bottled up is primed to burst, yet even still you try to reign some of it in at the very least. Evident in how you comb your fingers through your hair exasperatedly, another action that makes Dante see how alike you and his brother are; how much you have in common.

It makes Dante recall your offhanded comment about his twin the first time he really started to interact with you. Even with your present confession, the recollection threatens to sour his mood.

"Fine, you win on that one," you sigh out after a weighted moment, merely seconds have passed but it felt like hours with the tension between you. He makes a face of confusion, nose scrunching as his brows furrow before you continue, "but I can't do this."

You gesture between the both of you and Dante's confusion only worsens, warming your blood nervously because inferring he'd wanted anything with you at all opens you up to being wrong and rejected. Which would mean a whole added layer of devastating embarrassment for you to deal with.

For as long as you've agonized over all of this, the fact was that Dante and his feelings were an uncontrollable factor, but regardless, you still intend to say your piece. One way or another, you'll have it this situation to rest.

"I can't have anything so frivolous, not built for casual and fleeting, so yeah, I'm gonna fucking run because having fun with you is dangerous for me. I don't want to get attached and end up looking stupid, I can't do it. I can't afford losing my focus either in dealing with what all of your admirers will think and how they'll react. Or if we do try this out and something happens. I'll obsess over it, be consumed by it like I am right now and there isn't even a guarantee that this could be anything to worry about at all!"

You start to ramble, running out of air between the breaths you don't take enough of while you monologue at him. The speed at which you speak sounding more frantic and breathless by the second before Dante reaches for you. He grabs hold of your wrist when you register his movement and attempt to dip from his grasp, pulling you into him as you curl your fist in agitation against his chest.

He allows you one beat of the heel of your palm against his sternum as you whine before his index curls under your chin; tipping it delicately to dark your gaze nearly the same way he had during your first kiss.

Dante wears a tender expression, vulnerable, much like the one he wore during that infernal scene last week; history beginning to repeat itself.

You shut your eyes, clenching them tightly in a vain attempt to avoid its effect on you until his thumb traces over the plump flesh of your bottom lip.

The look of him when your lashes flutter open is more damning than his softened one earlier. You find him staring at you intently, pupils dilating when your lips part with a stolen breath. You almost think he'll kiss you again, heart hammering more heavily at the prospect before his gaze meets yours.

"What's so wrong with getting attached?" He sounds wounded, like the notion is a deep scar of his that you haven't yet discovered.

You don't get a moment to analyze it deeper as Dante's palm cups your cheek, thumb brushing the fringe that frames your pretty face out of the way. A smile, fleeting and mirthless, find his lips when your eyes widen, "not really fair that you get to decide all that without even asking me."

Another moment passes between you, nothing but the sound of your shuddered breath and his soft suspire filling the space. Dante dips slightly closer, voice barely above a low husk, "so ask me."

You don't understand at first, searching his face for answers until you find it yourself, swallowing thickly after your tongue peeks out to wet your lips. You attempt to find your words, will waning as glacial hues track the action with rapt attention before you finally speak.

"Tell me that you aren't serious, that you aren't actually interested and it's just some perception of me playing hard to get." You inhale slowly, curled first unfurling to splay over his heart as you whisper feathersoft, "tell me that we couldn't be anything serious."

His lips quirks upward at that, fingers tightening their hold on your chin as he pulls your bottom lip down softly while he leans ever closer. Your eyes flit down to his mouth as his tongue moistens his own lips as he exhales long and slow. You search for any indication that you're right, that a rejection will come despite how he cradles you now. Searching for an unchanging best of his heart beneath your palm, for that apologetic tilt of his head and raising of his shoulders but you find none.

The only tilt of his head comes as he nears closing the gap between you as he purrs, "sorry, can't do that angel. Not very fond of lying."

"Fuck," you curse under your breath as your eyes meet his, but there is no lamentation to your tone. The whisper makes Dante chuckle as he finally presses his lips to yours. His lips capture your bottom one after the first tentative brush, encouraged further by how easily you leaned into him, how you accepted your fate and gave in.

Dante's are wraps around your torso as your hand slides up to rest at his nape, fingers toying with the baby hairs at your fingertips. He takes a step backwards, moving to cup your cheek as he graduates to an open mouthed kiss that you accept easily, kicking his door closed behind you.

"Oh~" Dante coos playfully between chases kisses, maneuvering his dorm effortlessly without parting from you as he falls back onto his bed. He sits on the edge of it, spreading his legs for you to stand between them before he leans back; index curling under the hem of your crew neck, "what's she gonna do with me? Should I lock the door? Put a sock to warn good ol' Verge?"

Dante teases but he holds you loosely, hands merely cupping the backs of your thighs as he looks up at you, silently giving you an out; quietly telling you nothing needs to happen even if he wants it to.

"How about you~ put a sock in it instead," you scoff, moving to hold his chin the same way he had earlier. Your free hand lifts away your oversized sweatshirt, leaving you in your pretty pink bra adorned in a cutesy strawberry pattern.

"Ah, but then you'll say my mouth is too dirty to kiss," always a quip in the chamber for him but he stalls as you strip. He watches you intently as you hook your thumbs in your too enticingly tight dolphin shorts before shimmying them down thick thighs; revealing a semi matching set of lacy panties to him.

"Guess that's a good way to shut you up," taunted teasingly as you step from the pooling material while kicking them away. You're thankful you'd actually managed to grab something that was cute during your hasty retreat from the conversation with Cara. The fact that it mostly matched was a mere stroke of luck and made you feel a little more alluring the longer he appreciated the look of you.

"Just trying to figure out what to salivate over first angel," cocky smirk gracing his lips as he leans back onto his forearms while you climb into Dante's lap. You scowl cutely, draping your arms over his shoulders as you press your tits into his chest; giving him a healthy dose of delicious cleavage that spills over your cups as his hands come to rest on your natural waist.

"If you're talking about the strawberry pattern I will leave," a halfhearted threat, you actually find his humor more than endearing.

"Don't want that," Dante purrs as he leans forward to kiss you, his palms gliding along your skin as he bucks his hips up into yours. The action helps him to adjust you to settle over his pelvis instead of just his thighs and maybe fluster you in the process if he was lucky.

And lucky he is, enjoying the muffled sound of surprise you make because of it, swallowing it greedily while his palms rest comfortably on your hips as you straddle him now.

You're keenly aware of the prominent bulge you can feel through the thin material of his joggers. Testingly, you drag your thinly clothed slit along the length of it as you feel it pulse in time with the heartbeat you feel thrumming against your skin.

Both of you simply familiarizing yourselves with the other for a long moment; smoothing your hands over the planes of his and torso while Dante gets a feel for the profile of your body against his. His tongue swiping over yours as his fingers knead at your thighs, gripping at the flesh available to him before letting them roam your body.

They move to your lower body first, gripping tightly at the fat of your ass as your hips roll in a languid motion, your head tilting while you moan over the feel of him.

Thick and lengthy from what you can tell now that he's grown more erect from your ministrations. You hum a lovely sound as the web of your palm rests at the base of his throat, leaning forward to make Dante lean his head back.

You cup the curve of his skull as he does, a pleased coo bubbling from your throat as you blaze a trail of kisses to his own. Placing chaste brushes of your lips along the column of his larynx, pursing your lips against his adams apple when a perfect roll of his hips makes you jerk. The tip of his clothed cock kissing your clit just right, making you gasp a saccharine sound as Dante chuckles as you adjust yourself over him to experience it again.

"Is the pretty girl a pillow humper?" Dante husks against the shell of your ear, goading you into slapping at his chest halfheartedly before you lean away from him.

"I'm about the be," a hollow threat as Dante holds you in place, lopsided smirk and lidded gaze painting his features as he coos in an attempt to placate you.

"Aw don't be like that," cooed cheekily as he leans forward to kiss you tenderly, ghosting his palm along your spine as he keeps you close, "I think it's cute. Should've let you finish first before I said anything."

Heat stings your chest and ears but you aren't wholly embarrassed, just slightly flustered as you sit up despite Dante's efforts to drape your body against his once again. You roll your hips in half circles in subtle show that you had no intention of de-tangling from him, watching the micro-expressions the action elicits with a self-assured smirk.

It seemed he too appreciated the pleasure friction provided but you want to know more, to learn what else he enjoys, craving it as you coo, "show me what you like too superstar." Painting on a catlike smile as you scoot backwards, resting on Dante's thighs, just above his knees as you tug his joggers down to let his rigid length spring free.

Saliva gathering on your tongue as you drink in the sight of him, hungry gaze on his pretty cock before raking upwards to truly appreciate his position and physique.

Dante's abdomen tenses and rolls as he adjusts, cock jumping as your deft digits massage at his inner thighs and your lustful gaze sweeps over him. He tilts his head as he grasps the base of his cock, lazy smile on his lips while he watches your pupils dilate when he gives himself a testing pump and then another. His strokes are unhurried and languid as he spreads the precum that leaks from his tip down over his length to grant an easier glide; flicking his wrist when he reaches his cockhead before adjusting his grip as he repeats the motion.

The rhythm he finds is leisurely, relaxed as you watch for what he isn't sure; but he should know well that you're studying him like you do everything else. You log away how the pace hes defaulted to will do little more than edge himself at best, certain that anybody that fucked their fist this slow and lazily either were performing in porn or thought that they were.

But you don't know that the look of you is reward enough in and of itself for Dante; enjoying how intently you track the motion of his arm, wrist, and hand along with how thickly you swallow at the sight of how his pre bubbles at his slit before his thumbs smears it away again over the flushed, heated flesh.

"Don't tell me this is all an elaborate ploy just to study my anatomy, he teases breathlessly, smile growing wider when you blink a few times as if jarred from your reverie. You're odd for certain but it's endearingly precious to him, one of the many reasons he cant get enough of you. He shrugs innocently as you puff your cheeks petulantly, tone breezy, "cant say I blame you, I am a fine specimen. Way better to look at those dummies you're saddled with."

His bravado makes you scoff but if only to stifle the giggle he nearly pulls from you. You roll your eyes as you lean forward, satisfied with whatever it was you were trying to glean from simply watching him fuck his fist; however halfheartedly Dante was doing so. It was enough for you as you tuck your hair behind your ear, arching your back as you drape yourself along his body once again. Shifting to lay slightly to the side as you grasp at Dante's shaft, just above his own hand as your lips seal over his.

"Still a dummy yourself though," you purr between slow, chasing kisses, a soft 'smack' sounding with each one as you press the pad of your thumb to the underside of his sensitive tip, earning a hiss you stifle with a swipe of your tongue.

He hums as you copy his motions from moments prior, laying back as you lay beside him, watching as Dante's hips rut up into your fist that replaces his.

"So that's what you wanted," he sighs slowly, scooping his arm around your, turning his head to kiss at your throat since you seemed so content to watch how you handled him now.

And well do you handle him, smirking as Dante's breath hitches against your skin when you apply a moderate amount of pressure in your pumps, squeezing tighter. Leaving him unable to help how his teeth graze your shoulder as your pace hastens, pumping his cock like it excited you.

"You should work on asking directly for what you want," Dante teases but his voice bears a strain, a low gravel to the usual breathless cadence as he sucks his own mark into your skin. His lips trailing featherlight brushes along the slope of your throat as his hand paws at you; groping your ass when he nips at your jawline but he slips beneath the material that covers your cunt innocuously, kneading at your ass cheek first before he slips lower.

He teases at your hole first, surprising you and urging your arch but not stalling the rise and fall of your fist. Dante flexes, his arm to have you lean more into him, giving him better access to your body. He angles you so his hand can slip further down and let his fingers glide through your slick. Sticky clicks filling the space after only a moment and you're unable to see Dante's smirk as your thighs clench when he circles your swollen bundle of nerves.

Your lips part around a sigh, soft and sweet as your pace slows on his length, leaning forward until your forehead rests on his diaphragm and your ass is half in the air. Whining as Dante's middle and ring fingers plunge tentatively into your cunt, testing the tight resistance by only sinking to the first knuckle before the slight stretch you feel is gone too soon.

"I want you," you whisper, the utterance coming out as more of a whine than you wanted. You press your lips just above his navel, another beneath it, just above his mons. Your tongue traces along the vein that snakes to the base of his cock when you feel his abdomen flex, his body tensing minutely as you lift enough to purse around the mushroomed tip. You hum happily hearing Dante hiss as you purr, "that's all you get," before taking him into your mouth.

You sigh but both of your bodies tense and relax in a dizzying cycle at how you handle the other, relaxing soon after if only marginally. Even as he toys with your clit it doesn't feel like enough, the both of you merely exploring the other for the moment but you grow needy, evident with how you whine around his girth.

Though you're sated soon after, moaning as he sinks into you again, deeper now as you take him to the final knuckle as he sighs, "sounds good to me."

You aren't sure if he meant in regards to what you'd said or the way you keen so prettily as you bob on his dick but you can't be bothered to care about the specifics. Pleasure now gradually builds and you enjoy the feel and taste of Dante on your tongue, hollowing your cheeks as he curls his fingers in your cunt.

Rewarding one another with appreciative moans and salacious sighs as you search for the others preferences.

Though Dante finds yours much faster, pads of his thick digits pressing into velvet walls that have you stilling on his length suddenly. Faltering on your rhythm and moaning wantonly around him before he pushes you over the edge.

Shuddering and releasing his dick with a lewd pop as you arch and shake against him, fist still giving halfhearted strokes while you ride out your unexpected climax.

Unknowingly you edge him but Dante doesn't mind, instead he delights in how you react to his stimulation until you cant take it anymore; lifting away from him but not going very far, turning in time to catch Dante popping his fingers into his mouth to properly taste you. The sight makes your lower belly molten, your clit throbbing but you know well it isn't just from your waning orgasm. You need him, more of him as you throw your leg over Dante's thighs to straddle him once more.

You shimmy his joggers lower as you move forward, enough for him to kick them away as he sits up to receive you. His arm wraps around you, broad palm settling at your mid back to press you into him. He's already smiling into the kiss as you cradle his face with both of your hands, whining when you feel his weeping cockhead tap against your puffy clit even through your soaked panties.

"Want you, te," you pant into his mouth but he's already working on compliance, demonstrating as much by expertly unclasping your bra before moving back (if only slightly) for the garment to fall away from your body. He grasps your chin delicately, pad of his thumb tapping gently on your mandible, "look at you, getting better already."

He exhales a breathy chuckle when your face scrunches in confusion momentarily before you register what he means. Truly he must like the way you look when your eyes roll back with how often he elicits the reaction as you lean away from his kiss playfully but Dante surprises you once again.

Dante had meant to hastily pull down your panties but, with your position, his strength and the materials fragility, the seam tears completely. Stitches popping startling you before you scowl at him but Dante doesn't give you much time to be cross with him.

The tip of his cock catching on your entrance and prodding precariously is distraction enough as his fingers press at the small of your back to encourage you closer. His skin gliding against yours as it moves to your hips but he doesn't press you down onto him, not yet.

"Sorry angel," Dante sighs, voice near breathless and feathersoft as you hover over him. You can feel him tense his arm to keep you from sinking onto him too quickly, considerate of the fact that even with priming you the way he had, his fingers didn't match his girth. Which, you can absolutely appreciate that, you adore him more for it as a matter of fact, but he doesn't know that you like the burn from a sudden stretch. You cup his face lovingly, intent on reassuring him as you brush the fringe from his face lovingly when it husks, "I want you too."

Whispered as if her were repenting for his anticipation that cost you an inconsequential article but you've always prided yourself on deciphering context; understanding Dante was coming to you easily now that you allowed it.

"You have me," you sigh against his lips, tongue swiping over his as your lids slip shut and you sink onto him in tandem. The stretch is a divine feeling, making your walls flutter around his length threateningly already before you finally take him to the hilt.

Dante groans as he grips you with a bruising force, eyes rolling appreciatively behind closed lids from the feel of you alone. He inhales sharply as you lift halfway off of him before sinking once again, finding a delicious rhythm easily with a handful of bounces aided by Dante's capable hands.

Both of you devolve into more carnal reactions only as a desperate pace is set; muttering one another's name for the other to swallow, panting into your mouth or against his skin like your passion wouldn't let either of you catch your breath.

It become readily apparent to you that you were more pent up than you'd like to admit, simply thankful that Dante appears to have not noticed considering he hasn't teased you for it yet. Though, you could almost assume that of him as well with how he embraces you, keeps you pressed impossibly close to him, how he yearns to taste you further.

He cups the curve of your skull to angle your head in the opposite direction of his as Dante's tongue familiarizes itself with the inside of your mouth more intimately. His free hand still holds firmly at your hip, aiding in how you bounce on his cock while simultaneously grinding your clit into his pelvis. He delights in how your hips jerk out of sync, the whine that accompanies it makes him smirk against your lips.

You do get subtle revenge, however, clenching around Dante's sensitive tip when you rise on his length, earning a choked groan of a sound that makes you giggle. You even edge yourself just to do so, tactically avoiding rewarding him with a second climax from you as you build to his own release; he didn't need that much of an ego boost.

Plus, you think he's close anyway, feel it with how he twitches inside you as well as how he grips, paws and gropes at you. A satisfied smile finding your lips as you cradle his jaw and move to kiss his throat and adorn him with another loving mark. As delicious as they tasted on your tongue, you're more inclined to hear his pleasured sounds uninhibited.

But Dante obviously has other ideas, or perhaps he was simply too lost in the throes of passion, as he switches your positions again. He shifts, moving to press into you and lay a kiss to your shoulder as he leans forward to lay you down, putting you into missionary.

The switch surprises you, starting to squeak but with the change in angle, Dante's cockhead bullies a spot in you that tips you over the cliff you were teetering on the fringes of. You arch into him as you throw your head back, unable to stifle the throaty moan Dante earned while you ride the waves of your second orgasm.

All while Dante rolls his hips into you methodically, watching your euphoria wash over you as he brushes your hair that's slicked to your skin from that beautiful sheen of sweat he causes. A serene expression paining his features before he lowers himself onto his forearms, giving you a jostling thrust that nearly steals the breath from your lungs as he does.

"I gotta ask angel," Dante starts, breath low and somewhat strained but his pace doesn't slow as he finds the rhythm he likes. You can appreciate it as well, if the heels digging into his lower back after you hooked your ankles together was any indication. It becomes clear to you that he's waiting for acknowledgment when he doesn't continue, so you whine out a soft 'whats that?' before he finally continues; kissing your jaw in gratitude first.

"Is my brother still your kinda man?" Dante grits out, gasping for breath when you begin to meet each of his thrusts; but still, he wanted to tease. He places another kiss to the space behind your ear as he husks, "because I was startin to think I'm a way better fit."

Your face pinches in perplexion, unsure as to what he's referring to and, with your current position, you aren't exactly inclined to recall or consider it critically.

Until it hits you, conveniently as Dante drills into you rhythmically, you remember saying Vergil was more your type than Dante was once upon a time.

The idea of him being jealous, of that bothering him all the way to this point, endears you so.

"Aw," you sigh after you realize, the sound interrupted by a pleased moan as your nails dig into Dante's shoulder blades. He's found a pace that must work for him, unhurried but harsh, each thrust of his hips knocking his headboard against the plaster and jostling your body beneath him; not that you're complaining by any means. Quiet the contrary as lewd squelches fill the space as you preen, "I thought you knew y-you were the more ha-ahn-ndsome twin?"

It's a perfunctory attempt at placating but the intention is still genuine, offered in a language Dante appreciated and understood best. At least you hope he does, too overstimulated to really have this kind of conversation, not while building to your third orgasm as Dante consistently slams into your still sensitive slit.

This position had the curve of his cock nudging into that spongy spot inside you that nearly made your mind go blank, focused only on how good it felt. How good Dante felt. Your cunt drooling around his throbbing length, creaming rings gathering at the base of his dick while slicking down the wirey thatch of curls on his pelvis.

Dante heaves a breathless laugh, a strained sound huffed against the shell of your ear as he braces himself on his forearms, fisting the sheets next to your skull. He's chest to chest with you and yet you hold him closer still, heels likely bruising the small of his back while angry red lines raise from the rake of your nails down the skin of his chiseled back.

"I'm, fuck, I'm gonna cum angel," you'll realized later this was a warning, an indirect question of where should he cum but not now. Now, the statement merely warms your blood further, ignites your veins in a sanguine inferno as you push the pads of your fingers into his skin, bidding him impossibly closer.

Your lips dot desperate affection against the slope of his shoulder as you shudder, "don't stop, please, so close."

Closer than you realized as that tightly wound coil in your lower belly breaks and blinding white light floods your vision when his mushroomed tip kisses your cervix from an out of sync rut. You arch as you inhale a sharp gasp, senses overwhelmed by the conflicting feeling of numbness at the base of your spine and the electricity that shocks the rest of it.

You moan, loudly and unabashedly as your teeth sink into the flesh exposed to you in a vain attempt to ground yourself.

Your velveteen walls constrict around his sensitive cock with an equal intensity that sends him over the edge with you, punctuated by a low, drawn out growl as he spills into you.

Sticky ropes painting pretty walls pearly as he works you both through relieving rapture. The rolls of his hips becoming languid and sweet as his lips meet yours, cupping your cheek lovingly as he tastes you once more. You coax him down as well, fingers gripping at his ribs as your thighs tighten around his waist.

You hum tiredly as you slowly descend from your third and sudden high, massaging at the mark you'd left on his shoulder sweetly; laying a kiss to it soon after as Dante trails his lips lower, to your cheek first and then your jawline. He stalls along your pulse point, lips lingering along the column so he could feel the thrum he affected before it begins to slow to its typical steady beat.

Dante rolls off of you with a satisfied sigh, all but flipping onto his side as he pulls you to him, tucking you into him when you turn as well.

"Take a lot out of you? Thought you were supposed to be a star athlete," you tease as he adjusts again, moving to lay on his back as you settle against his chest. You giggle when he scoffs, heaving a tired, simple bark of laughter as his fingers comb through his hair. He's careful not to brush it back the way his twin does, brushing it just enough to unplaster it from his tacky skin as he exhales a steadying breath.

"Was putting my best effort forward baby," purred as his arm wraps around you to tuck you securely into his side.

You don't respond at first, opting to simply hum in agreement, content to bask in the afterglow of your coupling while you draw indistinct patterns along Dante's bare torso.

"I need to text Cara soon," you say after a long moment, Dante's eyes having long since slipped shut and his breathing evened. You'd almost thought he'd fallen asleep until he hums in acknowledgment, "just to let her know I'm okay. I only told her I was going on a walk, I'm not ready for her 'I told you so' yet."

"Oh, so you were telling her about how in love you were with me," Dante teases before you jab your fingers playfully into his ribs. He laughs when you squirm like you're going to try and get up, tightening his hold on you to keep you in place and you relent easily enough, "Vergil said he was going on a walk too. Kinda weird he isn't back yet."

You giggle at that, sitting up to rest your chin on his chest as you tease, "maybe he pulled a 'me' and wound up at my dorm with Cara."

Dante laughs, a full bellied one that shakes your head on his torso as he folds his other arm behind his head leisurely, "they'd tear each other apart. Verge said they're 'amicable at best' now though."

A moment of silence stretches before you two give one another a speculative look. You lift yourself up without any fight from Dante this time, throwing your legs over the side of his mattress, glancing over your shoulder at him, "no way though.. right?" If you thought hard enough, truly combed through every instance, you'd register certain actions and reactions as suspicious, "I mean.. they did start acting differently after their project together."

"Only one way to find out," Dante grunts as he moves to stand, stretching his limbs before searching the littered floor Vergil chastised him for earlier for a clean shirt. He finds a hoodie at best, tossing you the other he found instead of your crew neck while you slip on your bra, "plus, you should grab some clothes to keep over here. For sure gonna need another pair of panties unless you wanna sleep in my boxers tonight."

You cast a cursory glance over your shoulder, brow quirked with a giddy smile tugging at full lips when he continues, "y'know, since I ripped yours."

Dante completely glazes over the fact that he planned to have you over more often, perhaps because it just felt obvious to him whenever you needed him to spell out that he wanted something serious with you. Hell, he even halfway hoped you both would find Vergil with your roommate, as implausible as that sounded to him when he remembered which brother he was talking about.

But he's watched enough rom-coms with his mother, Eva, where college couples struggled to get any privacy because of their roommates, Vergil being in a relationship with yours would solve that issue before it became one. One less thing to worry about because he hoped, at least, you wouldn't work as many hours as you were but Dante doesn't dream of changing you. It likely wouldn't be an issue either, you only worked so many extra hours because you were trying to avoid Dante; now you had no reason to.

"You're still gonna buy me a new pair, by the way," you call as you slip into a pair of his joggers, figuring with the suns set, the night will be too cold for dolphin shorts. Plus, the idea of wearing tight shorts sans underwear while Dante's spend is beginning to leak from you did not sound appealing in the slightest.

You turn to him once you're fully decent, standing before him as his expression softens at the sight of you. Fondness breeding in his chest as he reaches for you, pulling you to tuck into his side as you add, "a good boyfriend would do that, maybe even pick out a cute pair. And without complaining!"

It's mostly a tease, but Dante coming along with you to shop for 'intimates' he could pick out as well did excite you, however.

Jade 🍄

Azul 🐙

Now THIS is Yandere vibes

Mafia fishes are canon and I will not take criticism. Rosie can't– ofc– sleep again. Very predictable. Why? probably just the over looming thoughts as usual. Nothing new nothing new

taking karasu’s knot while he’s in rut typically doesn’t satiate the primal need (it never has been enough for either of your preferred tastes). that part is not the unusual bit for this encounter. nor is the way he keens and shouts in ecstasy when you press along his entrance with your tongue. karasu riding the waves of his own pleasure while you lick and suck along his cock while your fingers stretch him open is nothing new. the rumble of satisfaction and want that spills from deep in his throat as you add another finger to thrust in him is music to your ears; a tune you know well. 

beyond the scent change, there is a feeling. something that is warming your own chest when you look down at your alpha. karasu’s cheeks flush with the hungry stare that you give him, his body. yours. you relish the way his hips jerk forward, desperate to close the space between you. 

one of tabito’s wrists are bound to the bed frame. same with the opposite ankle. it’s years into this particular dance, the finale for his rut where you mount and claim every part of tabito, and his alpha rut still isn’t a fan of receiving, submitting like this, but you’ve come a long way from the blindfolds, muzzle, and fullly shackled restraints you had to use for his first rut with you where he begged (yes, begged) you to fuck him. 

this position isn’t foreign to either of you, and yet—

and yet, you find yourself changing things up. something compels you to kiss him first. before tabito feels the initial pressure of you filling him up. that doesn’t normally happen. the traditional routine involves you fucking him first, rough and fast, then kiss and hold him later; just how the both of you like it. your craving of control and power would be fulfilled first while karasu’s wordless desire to be treated and used and needed and praised would be achieved in this order.

but this time…there is first a kiss paired with your hand moving on its own accord to clasp his, the one chained to the bed, which sets off a trembling within karasu. a tremble that leads to dry sobs when your mouth parts from his just to settle along the skin of his free ankle that now sits in the air near your shoulder. you kiss and inhale and kiss some more with your eyes open, watching. observing him. seeing the way your mate looks at you with unshed tears and a plea for more. 

more of you, more of the slow, deep strokes of your cock that has begun to stretch him open. karasu sighs at the same moment you watch his own cock twitch and leak as your tip manages to rub against your alpha's sweet spot again and again and again. still at a steady, passionate pace that has him simpering and squeezing your hand that still has a hold of his own.

you love everything about your alpha. the seemingly larger than life, rippling and well defined muscles that could pin you down in seconds. the sharp, elongated canines you know are aching to feel something more than the saliva that drips down them right now. the ethereal glow of his irises that scream “POWER”. all of these dominating traits your alpha has, and he willingly gives it all up for you in this moment. he allows you to be the one to take and claim. yeah, you love him.

you love tabito karasu, and you love the alpha he is, and you love being the one in control of his rut, in control of this moment. 

you, the one with the heats and the smaller, softer build and the sweeter scent, are The Taker. you are the mate in this duo that gets to pin down and demand he feed your base urges and fuck karasu’s brains out till he’s floating on the wave of endorphins that assure him you are his, and he is yours.

after a good while of fucking your mate with hard, solid thrusts, admiring the view before you of such a large man coming undone twice because of you, and those sapphire eyes never once leaving your form, something in you shifts. you lean in closer, stretching tabito even more with his free leg moving with you, knee to his chest, foreheads knocking against one another while you grind into him.

and it is at this level of closeness, you note the pressure of tabito’s hand practically death-gripping yours, nails digging in, begging you to look at him and see. see what he wants, what those deep blue eyes beg from you while you share the same panted breaths and the smell of sex and warmer scents fill the air.

you give half a nod of assurance before closing the gap between your mouths with your lips, kissing him soft and deep while your hips cant to press further in. so you taste every gasp, every sigh of pleasure, every salty sweet tear that slides down your mate’s face as you relish in the feeling of all of him enveloped around you.

you must be drunk on this sensation. you have to be. how else could your mind explain the blooming heat that spreads through your chest and down to your core as you sit up to look at your beloved, and one singular thought consumes all of your senses as those eyes still silently plead with you for more—BREED. tabito’s leg moving to hook around your back and pull you impossibly closer only encourages that improbable thought to get louder. breed. breed your mate. yours. mine. more. LOVE. more. breed. breed. BREED.

the answer you are searching for in tabito’s eyes had already been waiting from the start. the different scent during this rut, the more intimate actions between the both of you, that unspoken request he’s been begging for since you pinned him down. he is an alpha, after all. of course he wants to care for and protect for his family. he wants more of you in the form of a family, and you’d like that too.

not that alphas can get pregnant, nor you be the type to actually knot or breed anyone else. but that rational thought is not present as you grip your alpha’s waist tight and groan at the sensation of filling him deep with your seed and watching how prettily tabito weeps and flutters around you, cumming at the same time, spilling all over himself. both love drunk on the pheromones and fantasy of starting something more with him in this way. pure love and desire and bliss as you breed your alpha just the way he wants it.

… … …

when the rut hormones have cleared, there is a candid conversation held about actually pursuing that next step with your mate.

talking about the different options available for an alpha and an omega with the dynamic that you have. maybe speaking with an omega or beta surrogate, maybe waiting for a lull in the upcoming soccer season to register for fostering that would lead to (hopefully) adoption, maybe stopping your birth control before your next heat, maybe.

maybe the universe has a lighthearted sense of humor with the way it decides things.

six weeks later, and there is the comical timing of professional athlete tabito karasu landing the final goal of the match, suddenly stopping in the middle of his victory lap to pass out on the field. he’s rushed to the hospital with his frantic mate (you) by his side for unexplained overheating/possible dehydration. except it isn’t that. blood tests are done to reveal something unexpected. you are actually an enigma, and tabito karasu is pregnant.