#copper-wasp

“That was awesome, I barely even saw you move!” Vergil huffed through his nose in response. 

“Then clearly you weren’t watching closely enough. You cannot afford to be any less observant during battles, lest you end up-” Vergil stopped as the sound of cracking ice caused his ears to twitch in reflex. A wave of cold hit his skin as he looked down at you, a surge of adrenaline shooting up his spine. 

“Down!” He commanded before throwing himself towards you, knocking you heavily to the ground as his wings unfurled behind him, shielding you. A blast followed, bright blue light as the demon exploded into a volley of icicles.  

His body shook from the impact as he pulled you close, bracing against the onslaught as his wings are battered and pierced. As quickly as it happened it was over, an unnatural chill filling the air as the atmosphere calmed. He exhaled the air trapped in his lungs and relaxed his wings, allowing them to fade as his shoulders slumped. 

He looked down to your body, huddled against his own as he reached for your face, pulling your gaze up from the floor from your chin. Your eyes were damp, your breaths quick as your body shuddered. He inspected your skin, checking for any cuts, repeating the actions with your arms and allowing himself to relax when he was unable to find any damage. 

“As if to prove my very point, your lack of observation nearly got you killed. Did you not see that the demon had not faded? Have I not told you to remain at the side-lines until the battlefield is clear?” He kept eye contact, one hand still holding your wrist as if acting as an anchor to keep you grounded.  

Vergil sighed as he saw your expression, your eyes beginning to glaze over with the first signs of renewed tears and the slight quiver of your lip. Your breathing began to slow as he gripped your chin once more, tilting your face side-to-side. A red flush was apparent on your cheeks from what Vergil assumed was the cold, your short breaths becoming visible in the air. 

“I... I’m s-sorry V-Vergil. I... I didn’t mean to. I just... you just... huh?” Your gaze lifted from his towards the sky, the gleam of sadness in your eyes suddenly replaced by something else, widening and brightening like the eyes of a curious child. He watched as you reached your hand out as if to catch something invisible before looking up to the sky himself. 

He let out a noise of bemusement as he saw the small flakes of ice falling from the sky, the remains of the destroyed demon. He watched as a flake dropped into the palm of your hand, grabbing your wrist to inspect, all too aware of how even after death, demons carried many dangers. 

“V-Vergil, relax. Look, it’s just snow!” The flakes began falling in denser clouds, layering the ground like a light coating of sugar as Vergil glanced at the surroundings. His grip on your wrist loosened as he turned to face you again. 

Your expression was nothing shy of elation, the sadness in your eyes completely concealed with joy as you beamed in pure delight. 

“It never snows in the city! I haven’t seen it since I was a little kid! Vergil, this is amazing!” You looked up as Vergil’s eyes were fixed on you, a depth of intensity within them that you had yet to witness.  

The flakes of snow were dotted over your face and hair, glittering slightly in the light. Something churned in Vergil’s stomach as he watched you look down to draw shapes in the flakes that had settled on the ground. He opened his lips to speak, but found his words out of reach.  

A sudden desire rushed through him at the sight of your smile, the sound of your voice as you mindlessly muttered tales about your childhood, his eyes were unable to leave your lips as he found a sudden fascination in their movement and their texture. He reached his hand back towards your face before you looked back up, a sudden expression of concern clear on your features. 

“Are you ok? You’re looking at me weird. You’ve already checked me over, I’m not injured thanks to yo-” 

Acting on nothing but instinct alone, he closed the gap between you, lifting your chin to meet his eye level. Your eyes widened at his sudden closeness, your breaths fanning in front of your faces. 

“May I?” He saw you flinch as your breath hitched visibly in the air at his question. Your eyes flicked between his as he watched you swallow and ever so slightly run your tongue over your bottom lip, before your shoulders relaxed... and you nodded. The motion was slight, but clear enough for Vergil to interpret. 

He closed the final inch of space, pressing his lips against yours with uncharacteristic gentleness. His eyes remained open, locked on yours as they fluttered slowly shut, a soft puff of air leaving your nostrils as he began to move his lips.  

His fingers traced your jawline, memorising each inch of chilled skin, up across your cheek and into your hair. He watched as your hand tentatively raised, the internal conflict clear in your movements. He pulled back, enough to break the kiss but still close enough that your lips were still touching. 

He revelled in the clear heaviness of your eyelids as you slowly prised your eyes open, pupils dilated and quick breaths batting against his lips. 

“Do as you desire. I thought I taught you not hesitate in your moveme-” your hand was suddenly in his hair, cold snow-covered fingers pressing against his scalp as you drew him back into the kiss, tongue dipping out to brush against his closed lips. 

Your brashness brought out a low growl from the base of his throat as his tongue darted out to meet yours, prising itself between your lips to tangle with your own in your mouth. He tightened the hand in your hair, capturing your quiet whine in his mouth as he slipped a hand behind against the small of your back, drawing your bodies closer.  

He allowed his eyes to close shut, attentions focussed only on where your bodies made contact, your sweet taste that he unknowingly craved and the feel of your warm lips contrasting with the cold surrounding air. He never knew that a feeling could be so intoxicating, that he could enjoy devouring the small, unrestrained whimpers that you were unable to hold back. 

After a final few movements, you drew yourself back from him gasping for breath as Vergil exhaled deeply, eyes setting once again on your face. The smile that spread up your cheeks was difficult to miss as he withdrew his hands, giving you space and silently willing your gaze to drift up from the ground. 

The snow was no longer falling, and silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the sound of breathing and a sudden laugh; not the response Vergil had expected to receive. Your eyes met his once more, bright and full of joy as he tried to assess the situation. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just... really happy.” Vergil continued to watch in silent bewilderment as you pulled your hand up to your face. 

“I just... didn’t think you felt that way... about me. You don’t really give much away most the time. I always thought your worry about me was because I’m a ‘fragile human’.” Vergil huffed at your statement, knowing the truth of it, but also questioning his own motives. 

“I don’t think... I was aware even myself. I decided to follow my instincts for something other than battle for once. I trust I did not make an error in judgement?” 

“No. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping you’d do that at some point.” You sighed as Vergil stood up, outstretching his hand to you, lifting you effortlessly from the snow, dappled ground.  

“Yes, I am protective of you because you are fragile, that much is a given.” You pouted petulantly at his admission, following him as he started back towards the shop.  

“The pain of injury is not something I wish for you to have to experience, therefore it is only natural that I wish to keep you from harm's way, that is all.” Vergil kept his eyes straight, not wanting to bear witness to the smug grin that you would undoubtedly have on your face.  

He quietly enjoyed a smirk of his own, the memory of your lips still fresh in his mind and your taste still on the tip of his tongue; a memorable mission indeed. 

***

I hope I managed to keep him in character enough for you; bless his precious emotionally constipated heart.

The last thing you had remembered was sitting next to Vergil on the sofa, he with a book and you with a trashy celebrity gossip magazine. Dante was out somewhere, probably getting his ass beat by Lady for not paying her again.

You didn’t even remember falling asleep, and apparently you had fallen to the side, crashing into him.

“Oh, boy I am sorry,” you said, straightening and clearing your throat.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, unfazed.

You thought for a moment before answering, “I actually feel very refreshed, yes.”

He let out a soft laugh, eyes back on his book. “Glad I could be of service,” Vergil said, his eyes darting back up briefly to lock with yours. There was a softness there that caught you a little off guard. You gave him a nervous smile, standing up and stretching your arms up over your head. You sighed at the satisfying crack your neck made when you rolled it on your shoulders, dropping your arms and smoothing down your shirt.

“Well I should probably get back to work... thanks again for letting me use you as a pillow,” you said with a nervous laugh.

He smirked at you, not looking up from his book and you walked past him, trying not to blush.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You leaned up against him the next day too, subconsciously pushing your luck to see how he’d react. He was weirdly comforting; rigid and warm at the same time. He didn’t object, just let you lean your back against him as you read, your legs tucked under you.

When Dante walked back into the shop an hour or so later, you were still in the same spot, in the middle of asking Vergil which season he prefers.

“Winter,” he replied without a pause, and you put a tick mark next to the word in your magazine.

“And what would you pick to do with a significant other? A. Go to the beach; B. Take a walk in the park; C. Go to an amusement park; D. Stay home and watch a movie.”

“B,” he answered quickly, and you heard the turn of a page of his book.

“Really? I would’ve picked you for the stay at home type,” you commented, putting a check mark next to ‘B.’

“The hell are you two doing?” Dante asked, plopping down on the chair opposite you.

“Taking a quiz to determine what color your brother should dye his hair,” you replied, tallying up his answers. “I’ll do you next if you want.”

“Uh, yeah, you better,” Dante replied, propping his feet up on the coffee table.

“According to this, you should dye your hair...” you paused, rolling your eyes and scoffing at the answer. “...grey.”

Dante snorted and you felt Vergil’s body shake in silent laughter against yours.

(Dante ended up with blonde.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You stood nervously outside his door a few nights later. It was 2 am, he was definitely asleep and you were stupidly awake. You put your hand on the doorknob, turning it slightly. You released your hand, sighing as you debated whether to go in or not. This is ridiculous, what am I doing? you thought to yourself, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. You were about to turn away, walk back to your own room, when you heard him call out to you.

“You can come in,” he said, just loud enough for you to hear and you stopped mid-step. Damn demon hearing... you lamented, steeling your nerves and opening the door.

You closed it behind you, turning to see Vergil looking at you expectantly from the bed, illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp on his bedside table. You swallowed hard, trying to think of something to say. Before you could get anything out, he gestured to the empty space on the bed next to him with a gentle nod of his head. You bit your lip as your body moved of its own accord, bare feet padding softly on the hard wood floor.

He scooted over as you approached, pulling back the covers. You slipped in next to him and he pulled the comforter up to your shoulders. There was still some space between you, but he remedied that with a soft ‘come here.’

You snuggled greedily against his side, warmth immediately transferring into your chilly skin. You let out a contented sigh, your cheek resting on his chest. You felt his arm come around your body, his hand resting lightly on your hip and you flushed, hoping he couldn’t see your red cheeks.

“Sleep well,” he said, and you replied with a whispered ‘thank you.’ He clicked off the light, plunging the room back into darkness.

You let your eyes close, breathing in the clean scent of his shirt, when you felt his lips on the top of your head. You sucked in a breath, your hand squeezing against his waist, tilting your head to try to look at him in the darkness. His lips made contact with your forehead next, soft and equally as warm as the rest of him.

You felt his hand on your neck, lips trailing to your flushed cheek before he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, following it with his mouth. You pushed against the mattress with your toes to get better leverage, tracing your hand up his chest until you found the side of his neck. He tilted your head to press more insistently against you, and you let him take the lead, threading your fingers into his hair.

Vergil broke apart from you for a long moment, and you knew he was studying your face in the darkness, half-lidded eyes and wet, parted lips, your hair loose and framing your flushed cheeks. He pressed a sweet kiss to your mouth, and then another, and another until a little, pathetic noise escaped from your throat, and you felt him smile against your lips.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, tracing down your jaw with a single finger.

“How am I supposed to get to sleep after that?” you replied a little breathlessly, feeling his arm tighten around your waist, bringing you even closer to him.

“I have some ideas of how to tire you out, if you’d care to listen?” he said, whisper-quiet, and your eyes widened in the dark.

You heard him chuckle softly, his fingertips finding the hem of your shirt, pushing it up just a bit to touch your bare skin.

You let your eyes flutter shut, a smile playing on your lips. “Tell me.”

Thank you for reading!

Find me on:

AO3: copper_wasp

You pulled on a set of rubber gloves, scowling at the mountain of dishes Dante had left you to do. He finally brought down the ones he had been hoarding in his room, so many that there was no longer any open counter space, so they had to be washed.

You filled the sink with hot, soapy water, and with a sigh, began to scrub. This wasn’t technically your job, but your Type A kept showing, brain forcing you to clean for him even though he was a grown ass man.

After a few minutes, you absently began to sing, an old song that your mother would sing to you if you couldn’t fall asleep, or woke up from a nightmare. It was about a sailor and his wife, bidding each other goodbye as he left, only for his ship to be sunk in a storm, leaving his wife heartbroken, but hopeful that they will meet again in the afterlife. Perhaps not the best song for a six year old child, but it still calmed you down even now, when the occasional nightmare would rear its ugly head.

“It was in a gale the ship set sail, His love was standing by; She watched the vessel out of sight, And the tears bedimmed her eye,” you sang softly, volume not much louder than the running water, gently setting the mismatched glasses on the drying rack.

“She prayed to him and heaven above, To guide him on his way; And all the parting words that night, Still echoed round the bay....

Farewell, farewell my own true love, This grief it makes me sore....” A baritone voice joined you on the second line of the chorus, and you dropped a glass into the filled sink with a thunk, soapy water splashing onto your face.

Whipping around, you saw Vergil, mug in hand as he went to fill it with coffee. You looked at him in disbelief, using your shoulder to wipe the suds off of your cheek.

“Do you...know that song?” you asked, incredulous.

“One would assume, since I was singing along with you,” he replied with a smirk, bringing the mug to his lips.

You tried to hide your smile. “Ah, yes, that would make sense,” you replied sheepishly, turning back to the sink.

Digging around, you located the dropped glass, checking it for cracks, and when there weren’t any, rinsed it off and placed it to dry with the others.

Well, you thought, grabbing some plates next, that’s half of them.

“You can keep singing, if you’d like,” you heard him say behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you watched as he took a seat at the kitchen table, cracking open a dusty old book to read. He met your eyes with an intense gaze, and you quickly looked away, embarrassment flooding your face.

“You’re sure I won’t be disturbing you?”

“Not at all. I do I hope you don’t mind if I make it a duet.”

You smiled at Vergil, appreciating this strange turn to the softer side. “Not at all,” you echoed, scrubbing at some congealed substance on a plate. “I’ll start at the chorus, then?”

“Very well,” you heard him say softly over your shoulder.

“Farewell, farewell my own true love, This grief it makes me sore; And you will be my guiding light, Till I return once more.

My thoughts will be of you my love, When the storm is raging high; So farewell, farewell, remember me, My faithful sailor boy, my faithful sailor boy....”

He let you sing the last line yourself, another repeat of “My faithful sailor boy.”

You didn’t want to look at him, fearful that this kind illusion would break if you made eye contact again. He didn’t give you a choice, as he came up to stand next to you, pulling dishes out of the strainer to dry with a towel.

“It seems you still have some dishes to do, I suppose we should sing another to make the chore seem less arduous,” he commented, and you bravely turned to look at him, trying to keep you mouth from hanging open in disbelief.

He looked down at you with an amused expression, but didn’t say anything.

“Any ideas?” you finally asked, still not quite over his behavior. You weren’t complaining, though, it was better than the sarcasm and silence that you usually got when trying to talk to Dante’s twin.

“Do you know ‘Wind and Rain?’” he asked, opening a cabinet to put the dried glasses into.

“Oh, you mean the one about the older sister who murders her younger sister by pushing her into a river, and then various bones of hers are taken by a questionable musician who turns them into a fiddle that only plays ‘Wind and Rain?’....That ‘Wind and Rain?’”

Vergil stopped in mid-glass-raise, turning his head to gawk at you. You smiled brightly at him, and he cleared his throat to try to hide the smallest little laugh.

“So you are aware of the tune, then,” he replied softly. You barked out a laugh, accidentally bumping your shoulder against his arm. You muttered an apology, but he just looked at you with that amused expression again, like he was studying you, trying to figure you out as much as you were trying to figure him out.

You turned your head to focus on the remaining dishes as Vergil began to sing. Your hands came to a stop after only a moment, though, because he was singing the song in Gaelic.

You sucked in a harsh breath, turning to watch him as he sang. When you failed to sing your part, he trailed off until there was only silence between you.

“Is something wrong?” he asked softly, placing the towel down on the countertop.

“I haven’t heard anyone sing to me in Gaelic since my grandmother died,” you admitted, looking away shyly. “It just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

You felt his hand on your shoulder, tentative and light, and you flushed, still not able to look at him.

“I hope,” he began, voice nary above a whisper, “it evokes good memories of her.” He removed his hand, leaving a pleasant warmth, and began to sing again from the beginning.

You chimed in with your part, in English, finishing up the mountain of dishes and feeling just a little bit closer to Dante’s opposite.

Thank you for reading!!

The songs described are:

Kate Rusby - Farewell Julie Fowlis & Eddi Reader - Wind and Rain [The song is based off of the folk tale of The Twa Sisters, and there's about a billion different iterations of songs of their story, I just prefer this one. Gotta love murder ballads, y'all.]

Find me on:

AO3: copper_wasp

“What’s so funny?” You asked, tracing your finger over the edge of the machine.

“You’re so cute when you’re mad,” he replied, tapping his finger on your nose before turning on his heel to stride out of the office, leaving you alone with the busted jukebox.

“Hey, wait!” you called out, stepping out from behind the machine. “You got any electrical tape in this place?”

“Probably in the basement!” he said just as the heavy door slammed shut behind him.

“Great, the basement. What horrors will I find down there?” you mused to yourself, pulling off the rough work gloves you had on and dropping them on top of the toolbox.

You walked over and pulled the basement door open, a loud squeal from the hinges announcing your arrival. You made a mental note to get some WD-40 the next time you went to the store as you felt around the wall for a light switch. A telltale ‘click’ and a soft yellow light turned on at the bottom of the stairs.

You gingerly took the steps one at a time until you arrived at the bottom, your mouth hanging open.

“Dear god, what is all this crap?” you asked yourself, looking around the space. There were rickety tables stacked with boxes, tools and hardware littering the floor, and one of the walls was pockmarked with very obvious bullet holes, crumbled chunks of concrete on the floor in front of it. Immediately all thoughts of fixing the jukebox left your mind, as your intense need to organize this messy room came to the forefront of your mind.

Looking around, you saw a roll of garbage bags perched precariously on top of a stack of magazines on a stool, and you grabbed them, pulling one off and waving your arms around to expand the plastic. You quickly started scooping up all the garbage - empty beer and soda cans, paper towels stained with gun oil, newspapers from years prior, broken bolts, anything that clearly looked like garbage. Two full bags later and you could walk freely around the room, but there was still a lot to be done. You did find the electrical tape, and put it on the bottom stair to take back up with you.

You walked over to one of the work benches, pulled away an olive green tarp covering most of it, and were met with a pair of... swords? You gingerly picked the turquoise one up by the hilt. It was heavy, but well balanced, and you turned it over in your hands.

“Look Agni, a guest!” the sword said, and you promptly squealed and dropped it on the floor, landing with a loud clang.

“Oh, it seems you have dropped Rudra. Would you be so kind as to pick him up? I believe he landed on his face,” the other sword said.

“Pick... him... up?” you said, looking between the orange and turquoise swords, hoping that this wasn’t some intense auditory hallucination.

“Yes, please. If you don’t mind,” the orange sword, Agni, said. You bent down to retrieve the other sword from the ground, propping it back on the table face up.

“Thank you, nice guest,” the one called Rudra said and you smiled nervously, quietly saying ‘you’re welcome.’

“So, uh,” you began, pushing some rags off of a stool and pulling it up to the table, “what’s your, um... deal?”

“Our deal? Apologies, I do not understand what you mean,” Agni said.

“How are you two talking to me right now? Aren’t you... swords?”

“Well, yes, but we are demons, too,” explained Rudra.

“So you’re demon swords?” you mumbled, mostly to yourself, but two voices rang out in agreement.

You rested your elbows on the table, setting your chin in your palms. “I’ve gotta hear the story of how two demons ended up in a demon hunter’s basement,” you said, excitement glimmering in your eyes.

The demon swords regaled you with their tale of fighting Dante in the Temen-ni-gru, and how they asked him to take them with him upon his victory; also how they were now regretting that decision, considering they’ve been stuck in a basement for years. You’d never thought you’d be so entertained by talking to a pair of demons, but there you were, thirty minutes later, trying to explain to them what Instagram was.

“Hey,” Dante said quietly behind you and you nearly jumped out of your skin, the stool tilting precariously backwards. Dante caught the edge, making sure you didn’t fall over, rebalancing the stool on the ground.

Agni and Rudra groaned in unison at Dante’s presence and you let out a little giggle. “Great, he’s back,” Agni lamented.

“Going to cover us up again?” asked Rudra.

“If you two chuckleheads don’t shut up, probably,” Dante replied, clearing some more space off of the table next to the demon swords, and hopping on it, dangling his legs over the side.

“Oh, come on, these two are charming,” you said, hopping off the stool.

“Shh!” Dante said, “Don’t encourage them, they’ll insist I take them back upstairs.”

“Nice lady will take us upstairs, right?” Agni asked, nearly begging.

“Sorry guys, you’ll have to take that up with the Boss-man,” you said, grinning at the Devil Hunter.

“And I think they already know the answer,” Dante said with a chuckle, hopping down off the table. “Hey, [Y/N], come upstairs, I wanna show you something.”

“Sure, Dante,” you replied, wiping your brow with your forearm. “Well, gentlemen, it’s been nice chatting with you, I’ll be back down later.” Waving at the two sentient swords, you followed Dante back upstairs.

Closing the basement door behind you, you turned to see the silver-haired man standing in front of the jukebox. He proceeded to smack the top with a closed fist, and, to your absolute surprise, the lights turned on and music began playing.

“Holy shit! You fixed it! I’m impressed,” you said, crossing your arms and walking over to him.

“Just finished up what you started,” he said, giving you a sweet smile. “Since you abandoned your task to go flirt with a couple of demons.”

“Flirt? Me? Never,” you said, grinning, locking eyes with him.

“Never, huh? How about the look you’re giving me right now?” he challenged, and you looked at him quizzically.

“You don’t count, Dante. And, by the way, you’re the biggest flirt there is,” you replied, pinching his cheek.

He grabbed your wrist when you tried to turn away, intent on getting back to reorganizing the basement, and made a little noise when you felt him pull you into an embrace, his arm sneaking around your waist to keep you where he wanted.

“I may be a flirt, but... I think you like it,” he said in a low, husky voice, searching your face with those gorgeous blues.

Of course you liked it. You liked every outrageous word he said to you, every little touch he’d give you, each seductive smirk as you walked past him, his eyes tracing down your body.

You swallowed hard at the sound of his voice, heated words still ringing in your ears. Dante was... difficult to resist normally, but exponentially more when he was so close to you. When his lips were just inches away. When all you needed to do was move your head just the smallest amount, close the distance and kiss him, like you’d wanted to for months.

You started to move, raised your hand to place it on his stubbly cheek, but paused, unsure and a little scared. Dante gently grabbed your hand, placing it on the side of his neck, before mirroring his own hand on you.

“Dante...” you whispered, drawn like a magnet to his lips. You kissed him gently at first, testing the waters, gaining but the smallest possible taste of him. He was addictive, nicotine and caffeine, and he flooded your system with dopamine. You wanted more, and god help anyone who tried to tell you no.

You pressed yourself against him, draping your arms over his shoulders, feeling his hands slide down your back, parting to grip onto your hips.

He pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down until you moaned, eagerly welcoming his tongue into your mouth, where it danced with yours, warm and skilled.

He pulled away after another blissful moment, leaving you nearly panting, your eyes still closed, basking in the warmth of his kisses.

“I should, uh, get back to organizing your mess...” you said, finally opening your eyes to meet his. His lips were parted, slightly more pink than usual from your heated kisses, and you just wanted to run your tongue over them.

“Why go down there when you could come upstairs to a nice, warm bed?” he asked, pushing your hair away so he could kiss down your neck. “You might even find an incredibly attractive half demon waiting for you.”

You laughed softly, pushing his hair behind his ears and giving him a soft kiss. “You have no shame, Dante,” you said and he smiled at you.

“Maybe not, but I’ve got a hell of a lot of self control right now, otherwise I’d have slung you over my shoulder already and we’d be halfway up the stairs,” he replied, giving your ass a healthy squeeze.

You thought for a moment, cocking your head. “I... wouldn’t be opposed to that, actually....” you said, dragging a hand down his chest. “But on one condition.”

“And that is?”

“You let our friends come upstairs,” you stated, narrowing your eyes at him in challenge. He tilted his head back with a groan, but still had his hands on you, and you knew you’d won.

“Fine, but I’m duct taping their mouths closed.”

You smiled at him in victory, but it was quickly wiped off your face as Dante did indeed sling you over his shoulder, practically sprinting to his bedroom.

Thank you for reading!

(Cheers if you know where the first line came from...)

Find me on:

AO3: copper_wasp