#We got to see Shadow and Knuckles relate to one another and bond (plus their fight prior was fun) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

keeroo92 · 5 years

Text

Savior, Bloodstain, Hellfire, Shadow Ch30 (V x Reader)

Chapter 30 Family Ties

______________________________________________________________

“Nero is your son, dipshit!” Dante stares at him, grinning happily as he delivers the metaphysical sucker punch excitedly.

The world grinds to a halt and for a solid thirty seconds, V’s mind is completely blank. He is numb, his body rigid and mouth agape as static fills his short-circuited brain. Even Griffon is rendered speechless from the sheer shock of Dante’s words. He can’t think, can’t breathe as he feverishly gathers his wits at long last. Emotion returns simultaneously with conscious thought, a tsunami of feeling he was not at all prepared to endure.

Disbelief.

Dante’s lying, that’s impossible. I would’ve known somehow, would have felt it in some way. I’ve spent so much time around Nero, I would have seen some likeness or similarity but there’s nothing!

Denial.

I could never, not even Vergil could have done such a thing, to leave a woman behind to raise his child alone. Even he wasn’t that monstrous… right?

Fury.

How dare Dante even say such madness! He has no right! Nero’s more likely his son than mine, with his tendencies! Yet again, I take the blame for his misconduct! Some things never change.

Confusion.

What is he hoping to gain from this absurdity? He can’t possibly believe Nero’s my… son. I don’t understand his motives; this makes no sense!

Doubt.

Unless it’s true; then it makes perfect sense. What if he’s right, what if I am… what if Vergil was… what if it’s true?

He mentally compares Nero’s face with his own, his original face. There are definite similarities, but he adamantly refuses to acknowledge the truth to himself even as his heart proclaims it’s agreement with Dante in a powerful surge of familial recognition.

I’ve already failed in so many ways, so many times. Fatherhood is not one of them.

You sure about that, Shakespeare?

Absolutely.

Would it be so terrible if it were true?

Most definitely.

Why?

Because… I wasn’t there. Nero grew up without parents, just as Dante and I did after the attack. He’s endured so much pain and suffering, to know that I was partially to blame for it…

You mean Vergil was to blame.

I… don’t know. It’s complicated, you know that.

Griffon sends him the equivalent of an eye roll, a short purr following soon after as Shadow voices her agreement with the sentiment. The enigmatic golem stays silent, but he can sense its amusement. Or was that anger?

It’s pretty simple, actually. You’re only half of Vergil, so you can only really be responsible for half the shitty things that dick did.

Griffon mentally preens, pleased with his assessment and giving off an aura of “so there” in V’s conflicted mind.

“Hey, buddy! You there? Hello?” Dante’s insistent voice juts in suddenly, his hands waving before V’s unfocused eyes in an attempt to bring him back from his hiding place in his mind. His emerald eyes meet his brother’s pale gaze and he forces himself to remain expressionless.

“You’re wrong. Nero is not my son,” his flat voice responds finally. Dante rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“Yes, he is, and you know it,” the younger Sparda twin insists. V harshly subdues his urge to childishly respond with a no, the familiar structure of their spats already taking shape as Dante lets his emotions rule him and V refuses to rise to the bait. Dante huffs in frustration as he doesn’t respond, his calm façade ironclad.

I think he’s right.

Another purr sounds Shadow’s agreement, and this time Nightmare deigns to respond with a long rumble of assent.

Then you’re all as foolish as he is.

“It is impossible,” V tells his brother quietly.

“It is NOT impossible, you idiot! Just LOOK at him and you can see it!” Dante shouts, his arms waving in a gesture of emphasis as he loses his patience at last with a snarl of irritation.

______________________________________________________________

As V and Dante distance themselves from you and Nero, the young man chuckles again and shakes his head.

“I can’t believe you actually punched him, that was amazing,” he comments dryly. You smirk and try to ignore the painful throbbing in your knuckles where they struck the man in red, the area already red and irritated. It had been necessary; calling you cute was crossing the line. And then he’d had the nerve to compare you to a puppy!

How dare he.

“How’s V holding up? He doesn’t look too good,” Nero interjects, your thoughts shattering like glass under gunfire. You can’t help but sigh before answering, trying to find the right words to describe the poet’s decline. You look at the floor, vision sweeping across the strange texture as you speak.

“He’s hanging on, but I can’t tell if what we’re doing is going to help in the end. It’s honestly a crapshoot, but it’s all we’ve got, so…” you shrug, melancholy acceptance settling over your eyes as Nero scratches the back of his neck thoughtfully. He grimaces, obviously troubled.

“I can’t imagine… if it was Kyrie, I… I don’t know how you keep going sometimes, Y/N,” he murmurs with a sympathetic smile. You nod, grateful for his friendship as always.

“It is NOT impossible, you idiot! Just LOOK at him and you can see it!” Dante suddenly shouts across the area, his arms gesticulating wildly as he argues with V. The poet is rigid, unmoving and silently facing away from you and Nero. Dante’s features are twisted with his frustration and a tinge of anger and you instantly start running over to the two men in alarm.

You can hear V’s soft mumble as you skid to a stop a few feet away.

“It cannot be… more likely he’s yours,” he utters robotically. When his face finally comes into view, his expression is flat, whatever he’s feeling hidden so deeply within that even you can’t discern it. His emerald eyes are locked on something directly ahead of him, his fingers grasping his cane tightly as he resolutely conceals his feelings. You shift your gaze to Dante, your confusion and worry blatantly obvious in your pleading eyes. The gruff man looks completely at the end of his rope, his brows drawn together and lips a firm line of annoyance.

“Dante… what the hell?” you manage to ask him. He puts his hands on his hips and stares upward with a heavy sigh, closing his eyes to think before he speaks.

That alone sets off alarm bells in your mind. You barely know Dante, but he doesn’t use caution or forethought often.

This must be serious.

Dante’s eyes meet yours briefly; a glance of apology before he addresses the lean poet. You follow his gaze, watching V’s face carefully for any flicker of emotion.

“Either you tell them, or I will, but this is too important to hold back,” he informs the obsidian haired wall of motionless restraint. His emerald eyes blink once, twice before he focuses on his brother’s irritated face with a look of dawning apprehension. He licks his lips, opening his mouth to speak but no words come out. His knuckles are white in his death grip on his cane, his jaw clenching as he forces a single syllable out.

“Don’t,” he gasps desperately. You wrap your hands over his on his cane, trying to reach him underneath the ocean of new knowledge as Nero trots up to join the strange conversation.

“You guys okay?” Nero asks with a scratch at the back of his neck. His eyes can’t seem to decide who he should be looking at, shifting between each of his three friends in concern as he takes in the strained expressions. Dante crosses his arms, his signature Sparda stubbornness coloring his tone with resolve.

“You have five seconds, brother,” he growls, tapping his foot to keep count.

One.

V’s eyes widen in panic, his eyes darting around seeking an escape route. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows nervously, sweat breaking out on his face.

Two.

You rub the poet’s back soothingly, offering him your support as best you can. He flinches at your first touch defensively, the circumstances overwhelming his senses.

Three.

His eyes are dilated so widely you can’t see the green ring around his pupils. He’s shaking slightly as his eyes settle on Nero.

Four.

Nero meets his eyes unflinchingly, his uneasy worry prevalent in his expressive features. The poet’s eyes light up as if he’s seeing Nero for the first time and some facet of the young man seems to hit him with the same force as one of Griffon’s lightning strikes.

Five.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” Dante demands. V closes his eyes and grits his teeth before turning to face his brother, steely-eyed.

“Abundance of stupidity,” he recites, turning back to face Nero before he continues with all the caution you’d expect from someone diffusing a bomb.

“Dante believes that Vergil fathered you, Nero,” he announces hesitantly, reluctance dripping from every word. Nero’s lips pop open, eyes shifting to match the circular shape his mouth makes. He staggers as the words sink in and he turns to Dante.

“What the hell? Where do you get off, making jokes like that?” the young warrior chokes out.

Your own confusion rolls through you as you struggle to figure out whether there is truth in Dante’s assessment. From what little you know of Vergil, it’s possible but extremely unlikely. Plus, Nero has so much in common with Dante it’s almost like he’s the older man’s twin.

So it’s not true, right?

Right?

“Let me explain,” Dante pipes up, and all three of you turn to glare at him. He raises his hands in a gesture of submission, guarding his face from any possible attacks.

“Please do,” Nero growls, his hands balled up at his sides but remaining low.

The red leather of Dante’s coat ripples as he lowers his hands with a sheepish grin, realizing that no one is planning on throwing any punches.

Yet.

“I knew you were a Sparda the first time we met, Nero. The hair is a dead giveaway. Wasn’t sure how we were related, but the Yamato bonding with you like it did convinced me you were family. Now, as much as I mess around, I don’t actually sleep around. The few people I do sleep with are still friends, I know for a fact I have no children. Plus, the timeline didn’t fit at all; I wasn’t seeing anyone around the time you were born,” Dante begins carefully, mainly addressing Nero as his voice grows steadier with each word.

You glance at V to see him glaring at the floor behind his hair, stubbornly refusing to listen to Dante’s rationale. You stroke his back again even as you listen and wrestle with your own feelings on the subject, shoving them away until there’s a calm moment to face them.

I can deal with my own issues later.

“So, you were either a long lost brother or a cousin or something, or Vergil… you know. I don’t know of any aunts or uncles in the family, and dear old dad died when we were just kids. And, according to V, there was a lady in Vergil’s life around that time. So, uh, welcome to the family?” Dante concludes lamely with an apologetic grin.

Holy shit.

Dante’s right.

Holy shit.

Nero’s face shifts rapidly, cycling through several possible reactions before settling on bewildered acceptance. A weight lifts from your shoulders as your friend smiles lightly at the man you love, his hand scratching his neck again in his signature move of discomfort. Dante relaxes slightly too as Nero lets out a long breath and chuckles.

“Well, damn… that’s uh… wow,” he begins, his shock stealing his words. A look of realization crosses his face suddenly and he looks back at Dante. “That makes you my uncle, huh?”

Dante barks out a laugh and jokingly reaches out to shake his nephew’s hand. “Good to meet ya, kid,” he glibly states. Nero cracks a smirk of his own as he takes his uncle’s hand; they look so alike that it becomes glaringly obvious to you that they’re related.

How could none of us have known? How could V have not figured it out?

“Kyrie’s going to flip,” Nero adds, and V’s shoulders shake under your hand. For a heartbeat you think he’s laughing, but then he turns away and lets out a shaky breath, a single silent tear rolling down his cheek as he tries to hide it. You shoot a glance at the two other men and they take the hint easily, walking away and leaving you alone with V.

______________________________________________________________

No, no, no… it can’t be true.

Can it?

A single tear falls from his eye as he distantly watches Nero and Dante shake hands, their faces arranged into the same smirk of amusement he recognizes from when it would all too rarely cross Vergil’s face.

There’s no point denying it anymore. Nero’s your son. Which also means Y/N is banging the father of one of her best friends!

V sends Griffon an image of himself plucking every last feather from his body, using them to make a new pillow, and the blue bird instantly fades away as their connection weakens. He hears Dante’s banter with Nero echoing somewhere nearby, the use of familial nicknames driving home their newly redefined relationship. A surge of envy pulses through him at the ease with which they connect as they walk away, still chatting amiably.

“V… are you alright?” your soft voice asks.

He takes a deep breath, grappling his jealousy into submission and burying it.

What does she think of all this? I have a son. Nero is my son…

Even to think the words sends a frenetic shiver up his limbs, like insects crawling on his skin. He resists the urge to brush at his flesh, meeting your eyes to answer you instead.

“I… I am coming to terms. Are you alright?” he probes you. You look away and anxiety tugs at him harshly, imagining all the ways his previous self’s action may have disturbed you. All the reasons you have to walk away and never look back. Sorrow hitches his breath in his throat as his heart reminds him what it feels like to be alone.

“I’m not sure. It’s definitely weird, and it makes me sick to imagine you with someone else. But it wasn’t you, was it? It was Vergil. Whoever he was, you aren’t that person anymore,” you thoughtfully reply, continuing after a pause. “Do you remember his mother well? Nero might like to hear about her, he doesn’t remember anything.”

Unbidden and half-forgotten images rise to taunt him with his foolishness. A flash of red fabric, a half-hidden smile. The brevity of his time with her.

V forces his memory elsewhere as he remembers the sounds she had made, the feeling of it. Vergil’s thrilled fascination as he experienced what so many people were motivated by throughout their lives.

“I remember enough to be ashamed,” V faintly comments. You nod and take his hand, pulling it from his cane where it had been clenched for far too long. You massage his palm gently and bring his knuckles to your lips for a kiss and your tenderness makes him ache with appreciation. He smiles lovingly down at you and you wrap your arms around him in a comforting hug. With your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, and his nose in your hair to enjoy the scent he so adores… all his worries dissipate like fog in sunlight.

“I’ll tell him what is appropriate,” he murmurs, and he can feel you giggle in his arms.

“How very fatherly of you,” you tease him with a sly smirk, turning your face to meet his in a soft kiss.

______________________________________________________________

June 15th, 1:13 pm

The group finally sets off again, progressing through a series of massive caverns downward to face Urizen at last. Going together had been wise – each area holds an enormous number of demons, swarms that V isn’t sure he would have been able to clear alone. He can feel himself growing weaker by the minute and his irritation mounts every time he is forced to let his brother and his son do most of the work. It becomes a vicious cycle; he notices his weakness, can’t help but focus on it for a moment, and ends up repressing his self-loathing in order to move forward. In turn, this makes him weaker still, assuming your theory is correct. Coming to that realization makes him feel guilty, and then he represses his guilt, once again making himself weaker as a consequence of his own idiocy.

After yet another fight during which he felt close to useless, the group leaps down yet another hole and lands to see the path forward illuminated with a faint orange glow, throwing the brutally huge spikes curving overheard into stark relief.

“Looks like we’ve still got a long way to go,” Dante remarks ruefully. All four of you step forward together just as the surface underfoot disintegrates.

V reacts instantly, his arm twitching as Griffon materializes in a tornado of black shards. Luckily, he already had your hand in his when the area collapsed, and he easily grips you tighter as Griffon wraps his talons over his still-extended arm overhead.

His wings heave powerfully, keeping the two of you from being impaled on the sharp rocks below, yet despite his best efforts Griffon tires quickly.

“I can't carry you anymore! I gotta put you down! I gotta put you down...” the demonic bird gasps out, panting as he does his best to lessen the fall before he drops you and V the last dozen feet to land unglamorously. Griffon himself collapses on the rocky floor, his chest moving rapidly as V pulls him back within his body to rest.

“Damn, just a little longer. Come on... we must... go...” V pants as he pulls himself to his feet once again. You rise beside him, dusting off your clothes halfheartedly and helping V do the same. Taking his hand in yours, you set out slowly, making sure he can keep up.

He once again dwells on his own weakness, restarting the cycle of torment with a vengeance as he scolds himself for not preventing the fall entirely. Griffon’s exhausted caw pipes up within him, even his thoughts echoing his weariness.

You really aren’t doing yourself any favors, Shakespeare.

I’m aware.

He grits his teeth as his feathery friend points out his stupidity. It’s hard enough trying to break the cycle without his “help”. Not to mention pushing through the slight twinges of pain every time he tries to stifle his emotions…

Here, maybe this’ll help?

Griffon sends him a series of images; the look of frenzied victory on your face after you killed your first Empusa with a frying pan, the feel of your fingers stroking his hair as he leaned over to allow your touch, the warmth and friendship within the first hug he had ever received.

The weakness fades slightly, allowing him a brief respite from his hunched over posture. He pauses to stretch, his lower back complaining at the mistreatment.

“V? Are you alright?” your worried voice inquires as he halts suddenly.

I can’t let her see my weakness.

Are you seriously that dumb? You aren’t weak; you’re dying. And if you don’t let yourself feel this shit, we’re all gonna die too! You don’t wanna murder us, do ya pal?

Not yet…

Griffon quiets, but V can still sense his concern and his frustration in the back of his mind through their bond. Echoes of the sentiment filter through from Shadow and Nightmare too, and he lets out a small sigh of surrender.

…fine.

“I’m weakening quickly now, Y/N. I’m… scared.” V tells you slowly, the last word almost a whisper as he forces it through his reluctant lips with a grimace.

You frown tightly at his words, gently tugging him to sit on a nearby ledge. It takes him longer than he likes to limp his way over, but once he’s seated, you take his hand and study it thoroughly. He follows your troubled gaze to see his skin, once perfectly smooth under his dark tattoos, now wrinkled and cracked like the floor of a desert. He frowns deeply, not having noticed the progression of his… condition.

His heart aches painfully as your fingers caress the damaged flesh and you let out a deep sigh.

“I’m scared too, my poet. In fact, I’m terrified,” you begin, looking deep into his eyes. “I’m terrified that I’m going to lose you, that I’ll lose… this.”

You hold up your joined hands and he nods his understanding. He pulls your hand to his lips, planting a light kiss on your palm. A pit forms in his stomach with your words, a weight descending upon his shoulders to join so many others.

He can see now that he has an unhealthy tendency to take on responsibility when he shouldn’t. His mother’s death, his father’s disappearance, all manner of unspeakable things he did during his time as Nelo Angelo. Nero and his mother. And of course, the release of Urizen and formation of the Qlipoth. His list of misdeeds is long and growing, the weight on his shoulders steadily increasing until he’s crushed by it. Even as he objectively recognizes the flaw, he struggles to overcome it.

I doubt I’d even be able to identify the habit if not for Y/N.

Your words echo in his mind. “You are not Vergil. You are V. Just because you came from him doesn’t mean you have to share his fate.”

“Is there anything that helps? Any patterns you’ve noticed?” you probe him quietly, almost desperately. His lips twist upwards as Griffon sends him an image of your smile.

“Griffon has been sending me memories occasionally. Images of my better moments,” he responds thoughtfully, “They seem to help, at least a little. It’s… far too easy to slip back into despair.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you respond, “Tell Griffon he needs to send you more good stuff anytime you start getting mopey.”

Aye aye, Captain Nurse! I don’t want to die either.

“He agrees. None of them want to die either,” V answers back for the blue demon with a smirk. He’d have to keep that nickname in mind; it had potential.

Your hand clenches around his at his words; perhaps you hadn’t realized that the three demonic creatures would die with him?

An image of your hair sparkling in sunlight.

Thank you, Griffon.

The feeling of snide dismissal; a rude salute. He coughs out a laugh.

“V… when I face… when I face Urizen. You need to have Griffon send you everything he’s got. Any memory, no matter how small. Have him start cataloguing them, testing them to see what gets the best response. You need to maximize everything as much as possible at that moment,” you instruct him hesitantly.

He mentally cringes as Griffon whoops with laughter, his excitement to browse V’s most innermost feelings clear within his mind. Shadow growls at the obnoxious bird and he settles somewhat, but his glee still seeps through.

“He’s… excited to begin,” V translates. You beam with approval and stand, holding a hand out to help him rise alongside you. He doesn’t drop it as you trek onward into the darkened passage ahead.

#dmc5 v #dmc5 #dmcv #dmc #fanfic #my writing #v x reader #v x you #reader insert #SBHS #vitale #devil may cry

14 notes · View notes