ert

“I was.. um?.. observing.”

“Same thing.” he rolls his eyes.

“Not the same thing.”

“It absolutely is.” he sassed.

Across the garage, Vergil stood near the workbench flipping through one of Nico’s repair manuals with the same attention he gave ancient texts and demonic archives: unreadable, completely composed, and unapproachable.

Nico slid out from beneath the van, wiping grease across her cheek with the back of her wrist. “Ya got that look again.”

“What look?” you snap your eyes over to her.

“The one like yer about to ask him to step on ya.”

“NICO!” you exclaimed, utterly appalled she could read your mind.

“What?” she snorted.

“I hate both of you.” Nero groaned.

“I hate me too,” you muttered.

Unfortunately, Vergil looked up. Directly at you. Your entire body locked as he held eye contact with you for exactly two seconds, then returned to the manual. It somehow felt worse than him telling you how poor gunmanship was and he doesn't even use a gun.

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Everyone had a weakness. Nero’s was his motorcycle, Nico’s was explosions, Dante's was a hot pizza and an even hotter babe, and yours (for reasons you deeply regretted) was Vergil and not in a normal way. Not in a passing he’s attractive way. Not even in a harmless older man crush way. At some point it had become… noticeable. Painfully noticeable.

You knew things you absolutely shouldn’t know about a man that was at least 20 years older than you who also happened to not only be your best friend's father, but your boss' twin brother. You knew he preferred earl grey over black tea. You knew he disliked unnecessary noise before sunrise. You knew the exact sound Yamato made against wood versus concrete. You knew his footsteps before he entered a room. Which was insane. You knew it was insane and eventually so did everyone else. Especially Vergil.

It started with him leaving whenever you arrived. At first, you thought it was coincidence. Then it happened again and again... and again. You’d walk into Devil May Cry, Vergil standing by the bookshelf. He’d glance up, see you, snap the book closed, and leave. No words. No acknowledgment. Gone.

The first time? You kinda thought it was a weird coincidence. He probably just remembered he had something to do the second you stepped through the door. No biggie. The second? Once again, dismissive and not that big of a deal. By the fifth? It was utterly humiliating. By the sixth? Nico laughed so hard she nearly fell off a stool.

“He LEFT.” she said cackling and pointing in your face.

“I saw.” you said, taking a seat on the couch, staring holes into the floor.

“He didn’t even try to hide it.” her giggles continued.

“I know.” you murmured, picking at the bottom of your shirt, not breaking eye contact with the floor.

Nero grimaced from the couch. “…Yeah.”

You turned slowly. “You noticed?”

“Everybody noticed.” Nero said.

You considered walking directly into traffic.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Then came the avoiding. If you were in the garage, Vergil stayed upstairs. If you were upstairs, Vergil stayed outside. If you were in the kitchen, he’d enter, see you, and immediately leave. Once you were carrying laundry through the upstairs hallway when he stepped out of Dante’s office. You nearly collided.

"Oh!" you say startled. "Sorry, Vergil!"

That's all you said. A genuine apology for almost smacking him with a laundry basket. Vergil looked at you and turned around instantly, walking the other direction. You stood frozen holding the towel basket against your hip, shock and embarrassment written all over your face. Nico saw the whole thing from the stairs.

“Oh. my gawd.” she wheezed from the staircase with the other laundry basket she was following you with.

“Don’t.” you whispered.

“He literally U-turned.”

“I know.”

“Like a frightened deer.”

“I. KNOW.” you shouted.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You tried fixing it. You really, really tried. You tried being normal. Less staring. Less hovering. Less asking Nero questions like:

“Does your dad always sharpen Yamato himself?”

“Why do you care?”

“No reason.” you shrugged.

“Creepy.” he said under his breath, giving you a side eye.

That shut you right the hell up. You stopped lingering. You stopped looking whenever he crossed the room. Or at least you tried, but it didn’t matter. Because by then Vergil had already formed an opinion. You were strange and he treated you accordingly. Like something mildly concerning that might unexpectedly follow him home.

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One afternoon Nico sent you upstairs to grab one of Dante’s old ledgers from his office. Just an easy and quick little adventure so she can see the logs between gun/sword maintenance and cleanings. A grab it and leave kind of thing. You found the book, tucked it against your chest, and stepped into the hallway just as Vergil emerged from the bathroom.

You froze. He froze too. There was nowhere to go. Trapped in a narrow hallway with a man that can't even stand to be within 5 ft of you. There was no side exit, no escape. You gave a tiny, awkward nod.

“Hello.” it left your mouth small and quiet. You were just trying to be polite.

Vergil said nothing. He walked forward and you stepped against the wall to let him pass, his sleeve brushing yours for barely half a second. Your brain immediately short-circuited. And because the universe despised you, you smiled. Small, instinctive, hopelessly obvious even though you meant it for just yourself.

Vergil stopped walking and your stomach dropped. Slowly, he turned, his expression was flat, cold and tired. Like patience worn dangerously thin.

“You need to stop.”

Your breath caught. “What?” it came out as a small squeak.

“This.” He gestured toward you vaguely. Your face. Your expression. Your entire presence.

“I- I don’t know what you mean.”

“You do.” His voice was clipped. “Your behavior is strange.”

Heat flooded your face instantly. “Vergil I-”

“You stare.” You went still as he interrupted you.

“You follow.” Your throat tightened. “You appear wherever I am.”

“That’s not-”

“It is.” Silence fell around you both, his words cutting through you and gaze remaining fixed on you.

“If I leave a room, you enter it shortly after.” Your fingers tightened around the ledger.

“If I speak, you stop what you’re doing to listen.” You looked at the floor.

“You watch me as though I am some kind of... curiosity.” He exhaled through his nose.

“I have ignored it for weeks.” That hurt more than expected. “But it has become increasingly difficult to tolerate.”

You felt physically ill.

“You are Nero’s friend.” You nodded once. “That is the reason I have been patient, but I need you to understand something clearly.”

You forced yourself to look up.

“I am not interested in your attention, and I do not welcome it. I do not misunderstand it, and I do not return it.”

Your hands trembled slightly around the ledger, forcing yourself to look up at him. The silence rang louder than shouting.

Your voice came out embarrassingly small, cracking halfway through your scentence. “…I didn’t realize it was that obvious.”

“It is.”

You nodded your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “…Understood.”

Vergil held your gaze one last second.

Then, quieter: “Whatever fascination you have with me…keep it to yourself.”

Then he walked past you down the stairs without another word. You stayed in the hallway for several minutes after he left, holding Dante’s ledger so tightly the edges dug into your palms. Your face burned and your chest felt hollow. You kept replaying it.

'Your behavior is strange.'

'I am not interested in your attention.'

'Whatever fascination you have with me… keep it to yourself.'

You swallowed hard, your back against the old wallpaper. Then, after a deep breath, you forced yourself downstairs. Nico looked up first from the desk, Nero glanced over from the couch, and both immediately went still. You made it halfway across the living room before setting the ledger down a little too hard on Dante’s desk. Neither of them said anything at first.

Nico slowly pulled off one of her gloves. “…Wut happened?”

You opened your mouth. Nothing came out because suddenly your throat hurt and your eyes burned.

Nero sat up immediately. “Hey.”

You laughed once, small and miserable, then covered your face before either of them could really see it. “I'm so fucking stupid.”

Your voice cracked halfway through the sentence.

Nico froze. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” you whispered. You tried to laugh again. It came out shaky. Then your shoulders betrayed you. Your breath hitched and suddenly tears were slipping through your fingers before you could stop them.

Nico’s expression dropped instantly. “Oh shit-”

Nero was already on his feet, guiding you to sit on the couch. “Whoa! Hey.”

“I’m fine,” you said automatically. Which would’ve been more believable if you weren’t actively crying your eyes out so hard you were choking on your breath.

Nico walked closer. “No, yer definitely not, sweetie.”

You wiped at your face too fast. Which only made more tears fall.

“’m okay,” you repeated.

Nero crouched in front of you. “What happened?”

You looked at him through wet eyes and immediately wanted to disappear. “Your father happened.”

Nero physically winced. “Oh no.”

You laughed weakly through tears. “Yeah...”

Nico pulled a stool over and sat in front of you too. “What’d he say?”

You inhaled shakily. Then said it before you could lose the nerve. “He told me I was strange.”

“…He actually said that?” Nico blinked.

You nodded as fresh tears immediately spilled over your lashes. “And he said he finds me difficult to tolerate.”

Nero dropped his face into his hands. “Oh my god.”

“And he said he’s not interested and that he doesn’t welcome my attention and that I need to keep whatever weird fascination I have with him t-to mys-selffff.....” Your voice broke completely into your sobs, hiccupping through your words.

You covered your mouth with your hand as tears kept falling. “I didn’t even realize it was that obvious. I mean I knew it was obvious, but I didn't realize I was THAT bad.”

Nico’s eyes widened. “Jesus Christ.”

Nero looked devastated for you. “Did he really say all that?”

You nodded miserably. “He said he’s been ignoring it for weeks.”

Nico muttered a horrified “Dayum.”

You wiped under your eyes with your sleeve. “I’m never coming back here.”

“Yes you are,” Nero said immediately.

“No, I’m moving.” you choked out.

“You said that last week because Nico laughed at your playlist.” Nero said rubbing your back.

“This time I mean internationally.” almost entirely serious.

Nico reached over and squeezed your shoulder. You laughed through tears again then immediately cried harder.

“Oh no,” Nico said quietly.

“Stop looking at me like that.” you whispered miserably.

“I’m ain't lookin at you weird.” Nico defends.

“You are.”

“I’m lookin at cha with concern.”

“That’s worse.” you whined.

Nero handed you a rag from the workbench since apparently that was the closest thing available to a tissue. You took it and pressed it to your eyes.

“This is humiliating.”

“Yeah,” Nico said.

“Thank you.” you said sarcastic, your eyes still watery.

“But in a deeply tragic way.” she pressed.

“Thank you so much, Nico.” you said, throwing your hands down onto your lap. "Boy, am I lucky to have you as my best friend."

Nero leaned closer to you on the couch, putting his arm over your shoulder. “He was harsh.”

“Mm-hm.” You sniffed, laying your head on his shoulder.

“Way harsher than he needed to be.” he spoke into your hair.

You stared at the floor, shaking your head. “He wasn’t wrong.”

Neither of them answered immediately because that was the worst part. He wasn’t wrong. Maybe intense and brutal, but not wrong. You did stare. You did listen for him. You did notice every tiny thing. And now he knew. And worse he’d been uncomfortable enough to avoid you over it. Enough to leave rooms when you entered. Enough to turn around in hallways. Enough to finally say it out loud.

Nico rubbed your back once. “Yer not weird.”

You gave her a flat tearful look. “I know things about his tea preferences.”

“…Okayyyy....” she drawled out.

“I can recognize his footsteps.”

“Okay, that one’s rough.” Nero admitted.

“I know the difference in what Yamato sounds like against hardwood, tile, concreate, and when its being unsheathed.” you named off on your fingers.

Nico sighed. “…Yeah.”

Nero groaned. “Okay maybe a little weird.”

You made a wounded noise, playfully shoving him away. “Not helping.”

“But,” he added quickly, “not in a bad way.”

You dragged the rag down your face. “Your stupid dad thinks otherwise.”.

Then Nico leaned closer.

“Well…” she trailed off. “He’s weird too.” She shrugged.

You snorted despite yourself. Then laughed. Then cried again immediately after.

Nero sighed. “Better?”

“No.”

“Fair.” he sighed.

You sat there between them for a while after that. Still sniffling. Still embarrassed. Hands still wrapped around Nico’s grease-stained rag like it was doing anything helpful while leaning against Nero's shoulder. The living room settled into a softer quiet around you. Music humming low, the sound of pipes ticking as they cooled.

And for once, you weren’t listening for footsteps upstairs. Weren’t glancing toward the staircase. Weren’t wondering if Vergil might walk into the room. Because now you knew. No confusion. No maybe. No false hope. Vergil was uninterested, and he had made sure you understood it with brutal clarity.

It hurt. Far more than you expected. Not just because he rejected you, but because he’d seen every embarrassing part of it. Every moment you thought maybe no one noticed, he noticed. And he wanted distance. And somehow that hurt worse than anything.

Nico nudged your shoulder. “C’mon, creepy. Help me with the carburetor.”

You sniffed. “I’m emotionally destroyed.”

“Yup.” she says walking off.

Nero stood from the couch, clapping your shoulder. “You can be emotionally destroyed while holding a flashlight.”

You looked between them with red eyes. “…You guys suck.”

Nico grinned. “Probably.”

But you stood anyway. Even with tears drying on your face. Even with your chest still aching.

V knew his body was starting to fail him the moment he couldn’t properly hold himself up, despite barely even doing something strenuous.

It annoyed him, kind of. The idea of extricating himself away from his demonic counterpart was good in theory; but in practice, it was tedious. He had to hide his true nature away from his twin brother. Hiding the real intentions he was doing all of this was exhausting. Keeping his human counterpart up was even more draining.

He was slowly chipping away at the seams.

Meeting you kept him together, though. Barely.

He never understood how chance encounters worked. And he assumed he never will either, just as he would never believe in them. It was more of a coincidence— you were good friends with Dante, or that seemed like the case the first time V walked into the Devil May Cry shop to talk about Urizen.

Hanging out with you was never in his plans. After not being able to defeat Urizen and staying back in Redgrave to really think everything through, V slowly warmed up to you, but it really took him time.

He shouldn’t be so trusting of you. At all. You’re Dante’s friend. That should’ve been enough of a reason to stay away from you.

But you were nice. Patient enough despite him not trusting you fully. You wormed your way into the hole that was carved into his chest since he was nineteen and angry, when all he wanted to do was regain the power that was taken away from him after endless years of abuse, of deeming himself weaker than he actually was.

You saw none of that, none of the anger and the pain and all things that could possibly make you hate him, ‘cause you didn’t know.

He assumed Dante never spoke about him.

But then again, why would he?

He knew he was the cause of a lot of things that, to this day, haunt Dante just as much as they haunt him. V’s quite literally the reason his twin brother was gone at the moment (or most likely dead at this point), and had to look for someone else to finish the job.

It seemed like his mistakes followed him everywhere he went. Nero was weirdly a reminder of what he caused (and V still doesn’t know why, even after spending a few days getting to know the young demon hunter), just like you were. And the more he hung out with you at the shop, the more he realized that letting you in was a mistake.

That was proven to be true when he found you quietly reading something in the shop just a few days ago, your tired gaze following the lines of an old magazine that certainly was Dante’s, judging by the dog-eared corners at the top of the pages.

You looked so calm despite the worn out look that you seemed to carry with you lately.

V tried to ignore the weird feeling that tugged in his stomach whenever he looked at you, masking his discomfort by tapping his cane on the floor to catch your attention. When you finally looked up at him (it only took you a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity to V), he felt his chest tighten up instead.

He’ll never get used to feeling his heart beat thunderously on his chest. Nor the loud ringing in his ears because of it.

“You look tired,” V said, barely being able to stand the silence that kept elongating between the two of you. Your tired eyes followed the way his fingers tightened around his cane before they trailed up to his face. It looked like he was having just as worse of a time as you, for totally different reasons.

“Yeah,” you hummed quietly. “I am.”

V’s lips pressed into a thin line at your response, not out of anger, but out of genuine worry that he might be making things worse for you (He knew he was). Despite that, he ignored the small voice lingering at the back of his mind, focusing on trying to cheer you up to the best of his abilities.

Even when he had absolutely no fucking idea how to do that. He’s been stuck with his humanity for only a few days (weeks) now.

He racked up something in his frayed brain to try and pull your attention away from whatever weird magazine you had your eye on, and considering he’s been here for a few times now and had looked through the dusted shelf in Dante’s office, you were most likely reading a men's magazine— why? You didn’t even know.

So he said the first thing that came to his mind: “Have you read Blake?”

The puzzled look on your face set V’s nerves off, in a good way. “Blake?”

“Yeah,” V nodded his head as his fingers tapped the cover of the book he carried by his side, feeling his heart beat tightly against the leather binding. “William Blake.”

He felt relieved when you shook your head. Feeling even lighter when you uttered a simple ‘never heard of him’. He’d take any opportunity to make you forget that he was the one that led Dante to Urizen and ultimately, to his (alleged) death.

He’d do anything to make sure you didn’t feel anything negative towards him.

Yet he wasn’t sure why he wanted you to feel that way.

Your curious gaze followed V as he settled down right beside you on the couch, reaching up for the magazine on your lap, eyeing it up with something close to disgust before throwing it away from you and settling his own book down in his lap. His gaze met yours very briefly before he looked away, tracing his fingers down the hard cover of the book.

The words failed him right at that moment. What’s he supposed to say or do to get you to lean a bit closer, so he could tell you all about William Blake and the book he’s held so close to his heart ever since he was forced to settle down with his humanity?

V’s struggle was evident, or that’s what he thought when you wordlessly scooted closer against him, feeling the heat of your skin made his mind completely short-circuit. He cleared his throat before he opened the book in his lap and started to read out a few passages to you.

And it went like that for what felt like a few hours, with you pressed against his side, your head tilted so closely against his and V reading and trying to find enough words to explain William Blake to you without losing his mind at your closeness.

V was just getting used to the heat of your skin when he heard the door to the shop open abruptly, Nero walking in with Nico trailing closely behind. You instinctively straightened up at the sight of them, pulling slightly away from him.

Nero didn’t even blink at your closeness with V, but Nico did quirk an eyebrow at it. And it made you want to slap the smug grin that graced her pretty face off. Yet you thanked all your lucky stars when she didn’t even try to punch Nero’s arm to get him to notice what happened moments before they even entered the office.

The peace you briefly felt when you let V read to you quickly dissipated when you saw Nero’s frown settled deeply into his features.

You already knew what his moodiness was about before you even tried to ask what’s wrong. You wanted to confirm your doubts anyways, so you asked what’s been running around in your mind ever since the man next to you suddenly appeared out of thin air. “Nothing?”

Nero shook his head, his lips thinning into a line. “Nope. No Dante yet.”

You closed your eyes, a defeated sigh escaping you at the confirmation. Meanwhile, V came to the realization that no matter what he did, he could never take your mind off of Dante.

He’ll never get rid of the guilt that weighed him down for being the cause of all of this, either.

Silence with you never felt too consuming to V.

Despite what happened yesterday, you seemed to cling a bit more to him anyways. He didn’t complain. He learned to like your company, even when he forced himself to enjoy it the first time he met you.

But he wasn’t forcing it this time. He genuinely enjoyed your presence now. The stretched silences between you stopped being uncomfortable. He could talk to you without feeling like he was forcing himself to play a part (even though he was). Interactions with you felt natural.

Just like right now, with the two of you sitting side by side on the couch. V’s gaze fixed on the book in his lap, pretending he wasn’t stealing a few glances at you here and there while you tried to take a nap, another one of Dante’s magazines placed over your face to block out the light from the room.

The sight would be funny if he didn’t feel like his chest was about to explode. Ever since he caught the disappointment in your voice after Nero told you there wasn’t any sight of Dante anywhere yet, V felt like he was close to spiralling when you told him you’d go get some sleep after he read to you. He knew it was an excuse the moment he heard the waver on your voice, but he didn’t have the heart to call you out on it. You deserved your own space after all.

He still wonders if you know he’s the cause of all your problems. But considering you’ve been following him around ever since he stepped foot into the shop today, it seemed like that wasn’t the case.

So he’ll just take it.

When V tried to steal another glance at you, it seemed like you noticed without even looking at him, pulling the magazine away from your face with a raised eyebrow. V felt his blood rush loudly in his ears at your expression, yet he kept his eyes fixed on you. If he was going to get caught in the act, he might as well just put up with it, despite the sudden flush in his cheeks.

You kept staring at each other for a few seconds longer before V broke the silence, surprisingly: “Get some sleep.”

His brows furrowed when you shook your head as a response. Before he even tried to speak, you simply said: “Can’t.”

You would’ve laughed at the utter confusion V tried so hard to mask with nonchalance. When he didn’t even try to get a word in, you kept on talking. “You keep staring at me,” you chuckled. “I can feel it, y’know.”

V’s eyes widened for a brief second before he schooled his expression, again. He didn’t even try to deny it, instead, he kept on staring at you quietly.

Then his eyes quickly flit to your lips and back up to your eyes.

You caught it the brief moment it happened, but decided not to call him out on it.

Silence stretched between you both again, before V started to lean a bit closer to you when you sat up on the couch. You barely even noticed he was already as close as he could be when his bare shoulder brushed yours, the heat of his skin noticeable through the thin fabric of your shirt.

You wanted to tear your gaze away from his pretty eyes, but it seemed almost impossible when he didn’t even try to pull away from you. He didn’t seem undeterred by the minimal distance between you, either.

Then it happened, so softly it almost felt like a brush of his fingers against the low of your back whenever he walked past you.

V pressed a chaste, nearly imperceptible kiss against your lips, your eyes about to flutter shut when he immediately pulled away, like your touch almost burned him alive. You instantly meet his gaze to see if it was some sort of mistake, if you read the barely there signs he’s given you ever since you met him wrong.

There was no regret evident in his expression. Nothing that mirrored the turmoil that actually ran through his mind once he realized what he did just a few moments ago.

He ignored the immediate guilt that hit him in favor of keeping staring at your face instead.

He’ll deal with the mess of everything he just caused later.

(He knew, deep inside of him, that he definitely wouldn’t.)

A lot has happened within a few days.

You and V got much closer. What started with a gentle peck of his lips against yours turned into more fleeting touches, of him reading a few passages of random books to you, of spending way more time with you rather than figuring out how he should get his demonic counterpart back.

But just as something started to bloom between the both of you, the Qliphoth started to prove to V that whatever the hell this was between the two you, should never have happened.

Yet the tree wasn’t the only thing that made him realize that.

It was your saddened gaze whenever you met Nero at the shop, it was the painful reminder that no matter how many lines he read out of his book to you, no matter the lingering touches or the press of his lips against yours, you’d always be reminded that Dante was still missing.

It didn’t anger him. V would be lying if he said it did.

He just knew he needed to end this before it hurt you even more.

He looked at you sleeping soundly by his side, sitting up against the headboard of your bed. Ever since this sort of ‘arrangement’ (relationship) started out between you, you trusted him enough to sleep in the same bed as him. But even then, V could never find the chance to sleep properly. He was constantly hit with the nightmares that were burned onto the inside of his eyelids every single time he closed his eyes, so resting wasn’t really an option unless he really needed it. He preferred watching you sleep instead.

Earlier that day, V spoke very briefly with Griffon about you (completely onesided, as every conversation with the nightmare went since they met), yet his words kept ringing in his mind.

You need to get rid of them, it said. They’re only softening you up.

And it was true. You turned into a distraction the moment he met you, and it was proven when he started to sideline every single thing he needed to do in favor of staying by your side.

What made him stop right on his tracks, though, was the rest of what the bird said. You need to kill them.

When V looked at it with nothing but confusion, Griffon just huffed in exasperation before parroting back what it just said, about him softening up. Turning weaker by the minute, physically and emotionally.

As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t deny it anymore.

It was either letting the city turn into ruins and him dissipating out of thin air before he got to Urizen, or letting you turn him more of a fool.

He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t need to do this.

You’re Dante’s friend, for fuck’s sake. V knew that everything would turn for the worse once Dante found out what happened to the only human friend he managed to make — a civilian caught in the crossfire of V’s (Vergil’s need to strip himself away from his humanity) stupidity.

So he didn’t think things through. He just acted.

V decided you didn’t deserve to be killed off like the demons he’s encountered and eliminated ever since he sadly graced this earth. Choking you with his hands around your neck and feeling your pulse slowly, but surely fluttering away wasn’t an option, either.

So he just took one of your pillows, placed it over your head and pressed down, down, until your chest stopped moving, until all he could hear was his own erratic breathing thrumming loudly in his ears.

V didn’t even feel the tears that rivuleted down his cheeks when he quickly took the pillow away from your head, but he felt his heart completely break when he checked for your pulse and realized that he indeed, succeeded in getting rid of the last thing that tied you to him. Your life.

He didn’t feel relieved. He just felt himself crumble even more at the sight of your peaceful face, etched forever into the deepest crevices of his mind. An image he’ll never be able to get rid off, just like his guilt.

He pressed one last kiss against your hairline, feeling your body heat slowly slip away before he took a step back from the bed.

He shouldn’t be feeling an ounce of remorse. But then again, this was one of the reasons why Vergil deemed this part of him weaker. A nuisance. Something to get rid of.

With another glance at your lifeless body and a silent nod to Griffon — signalling it to give you a proper burial to the best of its abilities, V made his way out of your apartment to finally find his way back to Urizen at the top of the Qliphoth.

- So in a prev post, I mentioned how Vergil would find full-figured women attractive and I’m RIGHT. Vergil would have a very traditional/instinctual attraction toward people since he’s very in tune with his demonic side. It’s allllll about who’s the best partner for sustainability and health and fertility. Think of the Venus of Willendorf! A beautiful carving of a rounder body, praised for her beauty and ability to provide life. It all ties back to our survival instincts and what we desire most in a mate.

- With that in mind, Vergil would absolutely go for someone thicker. Someone to come home to after a long day of fighting and just meld into.

- Not to indulge the ‘Vergil is possessive’ stereotype, but he IS. It’s definitely not something he’ll display around other people, but in the comfort of your own home, he is touchy and needy. It’s borderline annoying. Constantly laid on top of you, calloused fingers squeezing love-handles and plump flesh like a damn stress ball. ‘Mine, mine, mine’ is all that’s bouncing around his demon brain as he grasps and caresses the soft rolls and round curves.

- I’ve already established Vergil as an ass man, and it’ll only be worse if his partner is lugging around a dumptruck of an ass behind them. He’ll roll you over to your stomach to lay his head on your bottom, gripping and biting marks into the flesh until it hurts to sit. As soon as the hickeys start to fade, he’ll make sure to pin you back down and add fresh ones so there’s a permanent brand of who you belong to.

- Vergil has a certificate of excellence in eating pussy, with a medal in face-sitting. He doesn’t care how heavy you are, how much you protest - he’s holding you down above him by your hips and is smothering himself in your flesh. You think you’ll break his neck? You won’t - and even if you did, he’s a devil! It’ll heal, and he’ll pull you right back down to do it all over again, just so he can feel you ride his face. He’s not letting you off until you’re practically shoving him away, only to reveal that charming, shit-eating smile of his covered in the glisten of your release.

- Having a heavier partner would only mean free workout equipment for Vergil. He’d have you sit on his back while he does pushups, bench press you, carry you while he runs around. It’s a welcome challenge that translates to the bedroom. This man dropkicks demons that probably weigh as much as a car - you bet your ass he’s got you pretzels in his arms, supporting your full weight while he drives himself into you. Something about seeing the pillowy flesh recoil and bounce every time he thrusts back in makes his head feel like he just did whippets.

- Circling back, a lot of this ties into body worship. Vergil is an adoring, devoted man. A true poetic lover. If you don’t feel like an otherworldly goddess being worshipped by a lowly devotee, then something’s wrong. He will literally kiss the ground you walk on, cater to your every need, make sure you feel like the most treasured and beautiful person to ever grace his vision. If he had his way, he’d spend every second of the day kissing every inch of your body and murmuring prophetic proclamations of love and devotion.