#happy late birthday dante | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

homomenhommes · 2 months

Text

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … April 5

1837 – Algernon Charles Swinburne (d.1909); A Victorian era English poet, his poetry was highly controversial in its day, much of it containing recurring themes of sadomasochism, death-wish, Lesbianism and irreligion.

Swinburne had a striking appearance; he was very short and thin, with a huge head and large quantities of flame-red hair. He had a nervous temperament, could behave erratically, and was subject to tremors.

He had a lively interest in flagellation—a taste probably acquired at Eton, and he shared his sexual interests with, among others, Lord Houghton, who had amassed a large library of erotica.

For his own entertainment, Swinburne composed flagellation sketches, farcical novels, and reviews of nonexistent French poets. He tried to publish some of these works, but primarily he circulated them among his friends—who included Dante Gabriel Rossetti, his brother William Rossetti, and Edward Burne-Jones.

His Poems and Ballads scandalized Victorian critical and moral opinion and was withdrawn from circulation by its publisher. The volume included "Dolores," which glorified masochism, "Hermaphroditus," which exhibited Swinburne's lasting interest in bisexuality, and "Anactoria," which glorified lesbianism in an address of Sappho to her lover.

His friendships with George Powell and Simeon Solomon encouraged his interest in same-sex sexuality, though he was at times ambivalent about what he called Solomon's "Platonism." But we do know that he and gay painter Simeon Solomon used to chase each other naked through the poet Rossetti's house

By the late 1860s, Swinburne had become addicted to alcohol, and it quickly undermined his health. His alcoholic sprees also began to lose him friends.

In 1879, Theodore Watts (later Watts-Dunton), a solicitor and minor writer, established Swinburne in his house in Putney outside London. Watts tactfully weaned Swinburne from alcohol and from those of his friends who had encouraged him to drink. Though the household treatment at Putney might be thought stifling, Watts undoubtedly saved Swinburne's life. Swinburne continued to write until his death thirty years later.

1900 – Spencer Tracy (d.1967) was an American actor. Respected for his natural style and versatility, Tracy was one of the major stars of Hollywood's Golden Age. In a screen career that spanned 37 years, he was nominated for nine Academy Awards for Best Actor and won two, sharing the record for nominations in this category with Laurence Olivier. Like Olivier, Tracy was reportedly bisexual.

Spencer Tracy was a midwesterner from a lace-curtain Irish-American background who developed a taste for acting at school, and after a First World War spell in the US Navy, a year at drama school, and various odd jobs, he spent eight years developing his craft on Broadway. A fellow Irishman, John Ford, spotted him playing a condemned murderer on Broadway in 1930 and brought him to Hollywood to play another convict in Up the River. Twenty-eight years later he gave one of his last great performances in Ford's The Last Hurrah.

Though a confident professional, he was a difficult, guilt-ridden man, alcoholic and bisexual, the two sides of his personality perhaps expressed in the 1941 Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

Ex-rent boy, Scotty Bowers, in his book Full Service, tells of how he and a very drunk Tracy ended up naked in bed together, and how he had suggested to Tracy that

we should try to get some sleep, but he wasn't ready for that. Instead, he lay his head down at my groin, took hold of my penis and began nibbling on my foreskin. This was the last guy on earth that I expected an overture like that from, but I was more than happy to oblige him and despite his inebriated state we had an hour or so of pretty good sex.

The next morning there wasn't even the slightest hint of how drunk he'd been, that he'd pissed in the corner of the bedroom, or that we'd had sex together. He didn't say a word about it. It was as though none of it ever happened.

That was the first of many sexual encounters I had with Spence. Sometimes I would go to his place at five in the afternoon and sit around the kitchen table with him until two in the morning as he drank himself into a stupor. Then he would be ready for a little sex. Despite everything, he was a damn good lover. The great Spencer Tracy was another bisexual man, a fact totally concealed by the studio publicity department.

Tracy found his greatest professional success and most profound personal experience in his partnership on and off screen with Katharine Hepburn. She was the Ivy League-educated, upper-middle-class liberated sophisticate to his self-made, aggressively male rough diamond, and they sparred together in nine films, beginning with Woman of the Year (1942).

1929 – Joe Meek (d.1967), born Robert George Meek in Newent, Gloucestershire, was a pioneering English record producer and songwriter acknowledged as one of the world's first and most imaginative independent producers . His most famous work was The Tornados' hit Telstar (1962), which became the first record by a British group to hit #1 in the US Hot 100.

A stint in the Royal Air Force as a radar operator, spurred a life-long interest in electronics and outer space. From 1953 he worked for the Midlands Electricity Board. He used the resources of his company to develop his interest in electronics and music production, including acquiring a disc-cutter and producing his first record. He left the electricity board to work as a sound engineer at Radio Luxembourg.

Despite not being able to play a musical instrument or write notation, Meek displayed a remarkable facility for producing successful commercial recordings. To compose, he was dependent on musicians, who would transcribe his singing (or recordings of it). He worked on 245 singles, of which 45 were major hits (top fifty or better).

He pioneered studio tools such as artificial multi-tracking on one- and two-track machines, close miking, direct input of bass guitars, the compressor, and effects like echo and reverb, as well as sampling. At a time when studio engineers were assiduously trying to maintain clarity and fidelity, Meek was producing everything on the three floors of his 'home' studio and was never afraid to distort or manipulate the sound if it created the effect he was seeking. For John Leyton's hit song Johnny Remember Me he placed the violins on the stairs, the drummer almost in the bathroom, and the brass section on a different floor entirely.

Although he turned down opportunities to work with David Bowie, The Beatles and Rod Stewart, Meek did work with a host of other artists including Gene Vincent, Billy Fury, Petula Clark, Shirley Bassey, Tommy Steele and many more.

Meek was obsessed with the occult and the idea of 'the other side'. He would set up tape machines in graveyards in a vain attempt to record voices from beyond the grave. In particular, he had an obsession with Buddy Holly and other dead rock and roll musicians.

His efforts were often hindered by his paranoia (Meek was convinced that Decca Records would put hidden microphones behind his wallpaper in order to steal his ideas), drug use and attacks of rage or depression. His then-illegal homosexuality put him under further pressure; he had been charged with 'importuning for immoral purposes' in 1963 and was consequently subjected to blackmail.

In January of 1967, police in Tattingstone, Suffolk, discovered a suitcase containing the mutilated body of Bernard Oliver, an alleged rent boy who had previously associated with Meek. According to some accounts, Joe became concerned that he would be involved in the investigation when the London police stated that they would be interviewing all known homosexuals in the city.

On February 3, 1967, the eighth anniversary of Buddy Holly's death, Meek killed his landlady Violet Shenton and then himself with a single-barrelled shotgun that he had confiscated from his protegé, former Tornados bassist and solo star Heinz Burt at his Holloway Road home/studio. Meek had kept it under his bed, along with the shells. As the gun had been registered to Burt, he was questioned intensively by police, before being eliminated from their enquiries.

1936 – Pierre Hahn (d.1981) was one of the earliest gay militants in contemporary France and an amateur historian who received the first doctorate given in France for work in the history of homosexuality.

Pierre Hahn was nineteen when he contacted André Baudry, the former seminarian who had just begun publishing Arcadie, a monthly "homophile" review and would soon found an association with the same name. Invited to participate, Hahn wrote numerous articles (under the pseudonym André Clair) on a wide variety of subjects of interest to the homosexual readership, while simultaneously embarking on a career in journalism.

Under pressure from his father, however, Hahn briefly entered a psychiatric hospital at the age of twenty in a vain attempt to "cure" his homosexuality. The experience left him with a life-long distrust of the medical profession because of the way it had been treating homosexuals since the nineteenth century.

By the mid-1960s Hahn was evolving beyond Baudry's position that homosexuals should show themselves "respectable" and "dignified" in order to win the tolerance of society. Hahn later explained that he had begun a serious relationship with another man and "like all people who are in love, I wanted to shout it from the rooftops; I also wanted to rehabilitate something [homosexuality] that was held in contempt or treated with condescension." In a public talk at Arcadie, he compared the discrimination against homosexuals to racial discrimination, a point of view that shocked some of his more conservative listeners.

Guy Hocquenghem (a leading gay militant of the 1970s, but at the time a 21-year-old Trotskyite who carefully hid his own homosexuality from his homophobic "comrades" on the political left) later recalled Hahn's appearance at one meeting in 1967: "He came into the damp cellar and for an hour spoke to us about homosexual liberation. It was the first time I had ever seen a homosexual militant. And for a good reason, because at the time he was the only one in Paris."

In late 1970, there emerged a small radical group of Arcadie members that undertook a number of commando actions, most notably the disruption of an anti-abortion meeting in Paris on March 5, 1971, in which Hahn participated.

Five days later, the same group sabotaged a live radio broadcast on the theme "Homosexuality, This Painful Problem." They stormed the stage. Hahn, who was taking part in the program as an invited journalist and (presumably heterosexual) "expert" on homosexuality, had arranged their presence

That evening the they founded the Homosexual Front for Revolutionary Action (Front Homosexuel d'Action Révolutionnaire, or FHAR). Radical gay liberation had come to France.

After FHAR's collapse in early 1974, Hahn remained active in the gay movement. He had also begun research into the gay past. One former gay militant, Alain Huet, remembers Hahn as "a living homosexual encyclopedia".

In 1979 Hahn published Nos Ancêtres les Pervers (Our Ancestors The Perverts), in which he tried to demonstrate how, by repressing same-sex activity in eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Paris, policemen and doctors had produced the modern homosexual as a distinct category of man.

In late 1980, a board of examiners at the University of Paris-VIII (Vincennes) awarded Hahn a doctorate in philosophy for his work on "the birth of homosexuality," earning the degree on the basis of the work that he had already published in the form of books and articles.

By then Hahn had taken to drinking heavily. Without a steady job, he found it difficult to make a living and was deeply in debt. He was also infatuated with a young Moroccan, who took Hahn's money and gave little in return.

Hahn committed suicide on February 19, 1981. Gay militants had to take up a collection to pay for the burial. The card on one of the two wreaths at the funeral was an implicit acknowledgment of his historical role in launching gay liberation in France: "To Pierre Hahn, from his friends in the French and foreign homosexual movements."

1939 – Massachusetts requires notice to police whenever someone convicted of sodomy is released from prison.

1982 – Thomas Hitzlsperger is a German director of football and a former footballer who played as a midfielder. Since February 2019, he has been the head of sport of VfB Stuttgart.

Hitzlsperger began to play football at Forstinning, and later he joined the youth team of Bayern Munich, and in 2000 he moved to Aston Villa.

Hitzlsperger, who got engaged to his high school sweetheart, broke up with her shortly before the scheduled wedding ceremony six years ago. He was no longer certain of his sexual orientation. In an interview, he stated, "I finally figured out that I desired to be with a man."

The former world champion, who performed in the 2006 Global Cup and the 2008 European Championship, continues that he no longer had to lie about his sexuality and that teammates sooner or later stopped asking about his lack of a girlfriend. "However, the crucial aspect for me is to show that being a homosexual soccer participant is something that is normal. The perceived contradiction between playing football, a man's recreation, and being gay is nonsense. I don't think anyone has ever walked away from a game with me wondering if there's something wrong or 'too smooth' with my game," he said.

In January 2022, Hitzlsperger told ARD, that a "collective coming out" of gay footballers could be a solution to their problems of hiding their sexuality. Hitzlsperger took the example of 125 Catholic priests in Germany who decided to come out at once.

1991 – Phillip Picardi is an American journalist and editor. He is the former editor-in-chief of Out. His career in journalism began at Teen Vogue. He also worked for Refinery29 and Allure.

Picardi grew up in Boston to a Catholic family. Picardi attended Central Catholic High School, where in 2008 he was one of the founders of a now-annual student fundraiser called Catwalk4Cancer; the 2017 event raised more than $250,000. After graduating from high school, Picardi attended college at New York University.

Picardi started his publishing career as an intern at Teen Vogue. He then served as online beauty editor at Teen Vogue before becoming senior beauty editor at Refinery29 in September 2014. At Refinery29 he worked for Mikki Halpin, whose influence as well as Picardi's personal experiences led to a growing interest in political engagement alongside his work on beauty.

Speaking to The Guardian, he said his experience growing up gay in a Catholic family meant "I can certainly relate to what it feels like to be underrepresented or even marginalized. I took sex ed classes and there was no mention of homosexuality. Or I would sit in religion class and be told my life was a sin." Since June 2020, Picard has hosted a podcast about this subject called Unholier Than Thou, part of the Crooked Media podcast network.

In March 2017, his role at Condé Nast expanded to become as digital editorial director for Them, the LGBT magazine as well as Teen Vogue. Under Picardi's leadership, Them has also seen a significant rise in web traffic: April 2017 had a 53% increase over the prior year (6.9 million over 4.5 million in April 2016). He left the magazine and Condé Nast in August 2018.

In August 2018, Pride Media Inc. announced Picardi as the new editor-in-chief of Out. Picardi was let go from Out in December 2019, describing it as “the most complex chapter of my career so far”.

18 notes · View notes

matchheadz · 8 months

Text

I would like to thank whoever made the fic about Mama Vergil giving adult Nero her happy meal toy for the following brain rot:

When Nero and Vergil get closer, it’s in a very mute and limited capacity. Dante and the rest of the DMC crew have sort of resigned to the fact that they won’t ever be buddy-buddy. What they don’t know, however, is they only see what father and son allow them to see.

They’re both, underneath the façade of sarcasm and the extravagant displays of power and pride, actually sort of quiet people. Nero’s boisterousness is a learned behavior, a one born out of rebellion from his assassin days at the Order. Vergil, underneath the ambition and devilishly cold stares, is a romantic and a bookworm.

So when they start seeing eye to eye a little, it’s quiet. Private. Nero, ever the more communicative, will tell Vergil stories that he missed out on while he was absent. Of the odd treatment he received while in the orphanage, of his late brother, how he found his children etc. Vergil, if nothing else, is a good listener. He will nod and hum his acknowledgments, stay silent and thoughtful at Nero’s revelations. Sometimes, mostly when recounting stories of him as Credo, the corner of his mouth will twitch in what Nero *thinks* must be a smile.

Then one day around their first December, Nero starts picking up more and more jobs. He’s insistent to do them on his own, and the shit twins are more or less respectful of his wishes. But the three of them had fallen into a habit of picking up jobs together. Not all the time; nobody could afford that. But enough to feel his absence. Like a party member not showing up for Sunday brunch.

Vergil, still hesitant on reaching out, defers to Dante, who scoops his nephew’s job right from under him. It was a rough one. Probably should have included all three of them, and maybe Lady as a backup. Nero’s furious. He’s absolutely filthy, the van is likely to need hundreds in repairs and he’s tired. Tired enough to snap at Dante in early morning the last of the demons die, but not rev Red Queen’s engine. There’s an awkward silence between the two. Dante, ever the attention hog, doesn’t understand what he’s done but clearly feels bad. Vergil, on the other hand, is completely aware and turns around to walk into the only open “restaurant.”

You see, last month, while Dante had been entertaining Nero’s children during a birthday party, the both of them had coincidentally stepped outside for air at the same time. Nero had a constitution for gatherings built up over time, but he had never “become a people person.” And Vergil? Well, Vergil was Vergil. So Nero had gone on a small tirade. Sat at the stoop of his front porch, he had rubbed a tired hand over his eyes and complained about money.

They were strapped for cash as it was, with three kids, a niche freelance job and an orphanage sparing a meager wage. It was even worse that two of their foster kid’s birthdays were in November AND Christmas was coming up. He was adamant “that those kids got it better than he did.” Vergil did as he always did and merely nodded and hummed his acknowledgments until Nero had sufficiently relieved the weight in his chest to go give Kyle his proper, happy birthday.

so Vergil walked into this “restaurant” and bought the most nasty, disgusting double bacon cheese burgers for the three of them. Still covered in blood and dirt, and Nero still seething, they scared the absolute shit out of the opening manager by eating inside. The Snickers Effect took hold of Nero and he eventually mellowed out. In a small moment of silence, Vergil pulled out those fucking Shrek toys, one for each of their meals, and handed them to Nero while he chowed down. Dante fucking snorted the coke out of nose while Nero just stared at the damn thing in his hand with a sort of defeated look.

The job may have taken him two steps back, but it was nice, admittedly. Nice to have somebody there when shit got hard. To have family around. When Christmas came around, Nero sort’ve squirmed alot when the kids unwrapped their presents. It wasn’t alot, but it was enough for them. (At least that’s what Julio said after he gave his foster papa a big hug (Nero did NOT cry))

And those little McDonald’s toys sat well loved in the trio’s fairly bare bedrooms.

#text #dmc #dadgil #until guncle Dante kicked down the fucking door with three new skateboards #Vergil was the one who got the money for them #Just don’t ask how #If you grew up poor as fucking dirt you know

32 notes · View notes

cinnabundoll · 9 months

Text

Happy Belated Birthday Rurik!

If you couldn’t tell this was pretty much rushed and was made right after the bday post 3 hours ago but oh well xD did we all collectively forgot his birthday on the 9th...

This is a reference to that one post/ask about how he’d spend his birthday (let’s pretend the other sillies are with them..) I wanted to add color but it’s already late enough in my time huhu

Rurik belongs to @angeutblogo / @lasserbatsu

Dante belongs to @dantemoths-lair

#my art #undertale #undertale au #human!au #rurikliderc #dantemoth #durik

35 notes · View notes

polarisbibliotheque · 2 years

Text

Dante & Vergil being sick and their s/o taking care of them

Pairings: Dante x Reader; Vergil x Reader

Summary: Who would've ever thought the children of Sparda could get sick just like humans did? Having learnt to deal with this on their own, it was the very first time they would actually be cared for - at least for once.

WARNING: Dante and Vergil have a fever and the reader puts them in a shower to get the temperature down. Nothing happens, it's just one taking care of the other, but, naturally, Dante and Vergil are naked during this part. There isn't any NSFW description, but if it bothers you, feel free to skip it ;)

Author's notes: I figured we have them taking care of their s/o when sick, Vergil and his s/o taking care of sick Nero, so why not Dante and Vergil receiving some love? While I was having some bad health days and going through an exam that required sedation and such, I realized how much it matters when I have someone by my side caring for me while I'm not at my best. I guess Dante and Vergil wouldn't really know how that feels like and found it interesting thinking about their reaction while being taken care of for a change.

Dante

“Ok, big guy. You definitely don’t look good.”

“Heh, I’m fine…!”

You just raised one of your eyebrows while staring at the half-demon in front of you.

Dante had just woken up and still looked tired. It was afternoon already and, even if he wasn’t an early riser, Dante usually didn’t enjoy waking up too late. He also didn’t keep his sleeping pants on for too long, but there he was wearing his graphite gray sweats and a couple of fluffy slippers you gave him on his birthday – sleeping with shirts on, as he would say himself, was forbidden.

Nevertheless, there he was, sporting your too-big-for-your-frame red silk, Japanese style robe, adorned with colorful flowers, carps and golden intricate patterns. Still open and hanging lazily on his shoulders, but it wasn’t common for him to put something on in the mornings… Out of cold?

It wasn’t even that cold.

“You’re wearing a robe, which almost counts as a shirt. That is wrong.” You pointed out, leaning on the kitchen counter, following his movements with your eyes.

“I know ya love seein’ me half-naked, hot stuff…” And Dante winked at you – which would’ve been lovely if his sky-blue eyes weren’t lined with a filigree of pinkish red, adorned with a cloud of subtle purple. It seemed like he didn’t have a good night sleep in days. “But this mornin’ is kinda chilly. You gonna have to settle for this, babe.”

As he spoke, Dante ran his free hand on the skin showing from his chest – the other busy in trying to find his mug for a hot morning drink.

‘Morning’.

“I can always settle for you wearing my fancy robe, but…” And you approached him, taking the mug filled with drawings of little happy strawberries he loved so much – sitting right in front of his distracted eyes. “You look like hell, Dante. It isn’t even that cold today.”

“Ya know, I…”

But Dante was interrupted by running away from you in order to have enough room for one of his scandalous sneezes without hitting you as collateral damage.

“You were saying…?” You leaned by the counter again, a contempt and calm smile bright in your lips as he just looked back at you, clearly annoyed.

Bantering to the point of annoying Dante was a feat in itself – only Vergil could get to that point and only if he pressed the right buttons. Needless to say, the Dark Slayer praised this natural ability you had.

“Look. This isn’t my first rodeo. I know how to take care of myself, y/n.” Now Dante was serious, and both your eyebrows were raised in awe: that was another outstanding feat from you – even have him call you by your name instead of one of his many cute nicknames. “You’re worrying for nothin’, babe, really. Trust me when I say it isn’t serious, ok?”

You sighed, looking back at your huge half-demon lover, suddenly so stoic in that bright silk clothing. It was a sight to see, to be honest.

“Ok… But.” And you pointed at him. “If you get worse, I’ll be taking the reins, cowboy.”

“Alright…!” Dante responded in his usual sing song manner, playfully striking your chin in the process. “You won’t need to, sheriff!”

He would soon come to regret that statement.

If mess had a name, that would be ‘Dante’.

He found himself tossed on the couch, sitting like a bag of potatoes that was just left there. His head leaning back, he’d be able to stare at the ceiling if his eyes weren’t closed. Still wearing his pajama’s pants, Dante didn’t even take your robe off to put on his usual navy-blue shirt – if Lady saw him like that, she’d certainly be taken back to the day they first met.

Only he used to wear a red leather long coat, not your colorful robe filled with carps and golden filigrees.

“Dante…?” You were coming down the stairs, having just put on your normal clothes in order to buy some groceries you were missing for the next week. Seeing your red devil in that state during a sunny afternoon outside, though, was mildly concerning to say the least. “Ei, love…? Are you alright…?”

“Peachy…” Was the only thing he murmured, barely paying attention to your words. You furrowed your brows, immediately walking up to him.

Now, Dante was usually hotter than the average person – you learnt that with time, and he explained a bit about his body temperature the first time he got sick. As you approached him, you could see how his forehead and chest were glistening with a thin coat of sweat – and it took a lot to make him even start sweating.

Placing your hand on his forehead, you could safely say Dante was on fire.

“Oook, cowboy. You’re definitely not alright.”

“I’ve been…” He murmured back, slightly opening his tired eyes without even moving his head. “Worse… Don’t…”

“If you tell me not to worry, I’m calling Trish to kick your ass.” Not that you couldn’t do it yourself. But Trish had lived enough with Dante to act like his sister – plus, she had the perk of looking like Eva. It was like bringing Dante’s mother from Heaven itself to scold him into allowing himself to be taken care of. “If you saw yourself right now, you’d know why I’m worrying about you. C’mon, cowboy.”

With those words, you wrapped one of Dante’s arms around your neck and used yours to go around his torso, trying to make him lay down on the couch.

Trying, because Dante was knowingly huge. Laying down that half-demon brick house wasn’t an easy task – you obviously wouldn’t give up, but having someone else around would most certainly be helpful.

Again, Trish was amazing to drag Dante around – she made it seem like his weight was nothing.

“Ok, big guy. Legs up, c’mon.” You let him go for a while, only to help him put his limp legs on the couch. The huge, leather, black couch of the Devil May Cry was big enough to fit half of the crew with a lot of space in between – but having Dante lay down on it? Well, it wasn’t big enough for your red devil. “Phew. You’re quite heavy, you know…?”

“Babe… I can…” Once again, though, Dante’s words were interrupted by one of his own sneezes. You could swear the whole neighborhood could hear him sneeze. “I’ll… Take a shower…”

“No, you won’t. At least not without me around.” You fixed his legs comfortably on the couch, only to wrap your arms around him again to pull Dante in a better position. He looked terribly uncomfortable if you didn’t do a little bit of work to help him. That would count as your exercises for the day. “You’re burning, babe. I’ve never felt you so hot.”

“I’d… Disagree, ya know…” And, even if he wasn’t at his best, Dante still managed to flash you a sexy look – or at least try to.

“You’re the worst, Dante.” Even if you scolded him, though, you had a smile on your lips, leaning in to quickly kiss him, making Dante mirror your expression. “I’ll go get some pills and a thermometer. If you need me, just scream, ok?”

“No worries.” He calmly smiled back as you took his hair away from his damp forehead, checking his temperature in the process. It was funny to you how he resembled Vergil so much when you brushed his hair back like that – they were a lot more similar than they thought. “I… Won’t go anywhere, babe.”

“Oh, good. It’d be hell to hunt down a sick volcano devil through town.” With those words, Dante laughed a bit, closing his eyes in the process while you left your place by his side to search for the things you needed to take care of him.

Dante definitely wasn’t used to that. All his life, he spent his days and nights alone in the Devil May Cry – heaven knows how many times he got burning fevers like that, barely able to get up, trembling on a corner and hoping it would just pass. He had learnt to take care of himself, yes, even keeping a couple of medicines at the shop – but, whenever he got like that, it took him a lot of energy and will to get to the pills and take them on his own, sitting under the water in the shower and praying to whoever would hear him he didn’t need a hospital.

It wasn’t like Dante could go into the ER and say “hey, I’m a half-demon with a fever and I need help”. Most people would be scared, doctors most certainly didn’t understand his peculiarities being a half-half and it would probably end up in chaos rather than helping him – therefore, Dante spent all his life alone, learning to care for himself on his own; even if he wasn’t really good at it.

Whenever he got badly sick, though, something inside him wanted to believe Eva was watching over him, like an angel caring for her son even after her death. Dante always thought, after he got better, it was because of Eva’s watchful eyes and loving hands.

“How are you feeling, red devil?” As you came back to the room, Dante remembered how he wasn’t alone this time – and that he wasn’t used to.

“Well… I’ve been better.” He answered with a sigh, looking back at you as you approached and sat on the couch by his side. You placed your hand on his forehead again – it was so unusual, Dante didn’t even know what to do. His body tensed a little, but soon he relaxed, watching as you checked the thermometer to make sure it was still functioning. “Gotta warn you, babe… It’ll probably… Break.”

“Damn, you think you’re that hot?” You raised one of your brows, looking back at his goofy, relaxed smile. “I know you’re that hot, but you really think the thermometer will break…?”

“It did once… I was… Fifteen? I think…?” He tried to get things out of his memory, remembering the first time he got really sick. As all humans would do, Dante tried to check his temperature to see how bad it was, but… Well, it was really bad. Even for him. After that, he didn’t know what to do with himself, buying all medicines he could with his short money as soon as he could get up on his feet again. “Never used… Those things again. Got only for you, babe.”

You watched him for a while as Dante closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It never crossed your mind how your mundane stuff was only recently acquired at the Devil May Cry because Dante would never make use of those human tools.

“Well… If it breaks, I’ll get another one later.” You shrugged, raising one of his arms to place the thermometer. “Now that I’m thinking… I still haven’t learnt too much on devilish medicine with Vergil…”

“Hmmm…” Dante furrowed his own brows as he watched you taking a look at the many pills you had in hand. It was true: human medicine didn’t work the same way for him. You’d have to test a few things: Dante usually drank some Holy Water and waited for things to pass instead of taking some painkillers or other human pills to alleviate his symptoms. It was how he had learnt to deal with things. “Whatever dose you take… It’s probably double for me.”

“Hmmm… Ok. But I’m keeping two eyes on you, big guy.”

With that, you doubled the dosage, a little scared of what would happen – but Dante had already been bitten by the strongest of demon poisons and dealt with it only by, again, drinking his Holy Water and going through it. A few human medicine pills wouldn’t be his downfall.

At least, you hoped it wouldn’t.

It had been a couple hours and you could swear Dante was worse.

Now he was literally sweating, his hair so wet you combed it all backwards – a perfect reminder of Vergil – and he could barely stay awake. Every time you tried to move him, Dante mentioned how his body was sore and he didn’t want to get up from the couch, and a couple of times, you could swear he was going to pass out.

“Hey, dear…? Look at me?” You caressed one of his brows with your thumb, making Dante lazily open his eyes to look at you. To him, you were like an angel sent from Heaven itself caring for him during that awful day – he never really had that, and he had to admit: it was really nice. “Here, I brought you some chips. Try to eat a few, ok?”

“Thanks… Y/n…” And even though he didn’t look his best, Dante still smiled back at you.

You had managed to build a makeshift hospital bed for him, placing yours and his pillows on his back, having Dante lay there as comfortably as possible. He didn’t even have enough words to thank you: Dante just held your hand, mindlessly caressing your skin, impeding you to get up from his side and do whatever else you needed to do. You spent all your time just talking nonsense with him, and he seemed to enjoy having you by his side.

Dante did look a little livelier after you fed him the potato chips, though. Carefully, you placed them in his mouth, receiving a few playful nips on your fingers every now and then, both of you chuckling in the process as he gave you some thankful, caring looks. As time went by, Dante’s words became a lot scarcer – and, judging by the way he looked, you guessed his blood pressure must have been very low.

Enter the potato chips – not the healthier of options, but salty enough to make him come back and avoid Dante to pass out.

Because, if he did pass out, you wouldn’t know what to do. Dante bragged from time to time you were one of the strongest humans he had ever met, but there was no way you could drag his body anywhere to search for immediate help. You’d have to enlist Trish, Nero or Vergil to help you – and drag your red devil to Kyrie: the only one with enough experience taking care of a demon-human on their sick days.

Combing his hair back once more, you kissed Dante’s forehead again. His fever had come down a bit, but it seemed it was going back up. Before calling Kyrie or Vergil for a few insights, though, you had to at least stabilize Dante in a better condition – you couldn’t, and you wouldn’t, leave him during a spike of symptoms.

“Ok, dear. Can you get up?” As you asked him, Dante opened his eyes once more, watching as you took one of his hands to wrap around your shoulders once more. He foolishly wondered if you were prepping yourself to carry him around.

“I think so… Are ya gonna try… To carry me, y/n…?” He had to ask, even if now Dante did his best to put his own weight up alongside you. “’Cause that… Not gonna work, angel…”

“Well, I will drag you around if I have to, Dante. Never doubt that.” Your voice had such a certainty, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. As you sat him on the couch by your side, Dante kept looking down while you wrapped one of your arms around his waist, under the silky robe. His skin was damp, which would help your hand not to slipper while aiding his walk. “I’ll do whatever it takes to care for you, dear.”

“You already do.” He murmured back, a smile hidden in his words. That only made you grip him tighter.

“Ok. On three, we’ll get up. One, two… Three! C’mon!”

With that, you helped Dante drag his feet from the couch to the stairs. It was a daunting task, but you wouldn’t give up. He unconsciously leaned too much of his weight on you, and it certainly felt like carrying a bag of bricks on your shoulder, but it was Dante. You would never give up on him – even if the stairs suddenly looked too long to climb up.

“Ya know… You don’t need to… Do all this, y/n…” Dante mumbled as you adjusted his weight on your shoulders and helped him tackle the first step of the stairs.

“I don’t. But I want to, Dante.” Your voice had a tone to discourage anyone from arguing with you, even your red demon. “I’m here for better or for worse, babe. I’m not gonna run away when you need me most. Now, if you need to sit mid-way up, we’ll take a break. But we’re getting there, ok?”

“Ok.” Dante wouldn’t even disagree. Something inside his chest warmed up, and he knew he could put all his defenses and survival instincts down. He didn’t have to fend off sickness by himself anymore – now, he had you by his side, and he could just relax, knowing you’d do whatever it took to get him to feel better.

It took some time – and a lot of strength from your part – but you finally reached the top of the stairs. As you did so, you immediately got Dante in the bathroom, taking his clothes off as he just sat there, by the bathtub, watching you with inquisitive eyes.

“Your temperature is still high. My mom used to have me take a slightly warm shower to help it go down, I think it might work for you.” Your explanation helped him understand all you were doing, as you pulled Dante up by his hands and helped him walk under the shower water.

“Damn! The water is cold!” The way his body reacted, it seemed like you had just thrown a bucket of ice water on him – but the walls of the bathroom were already getting foggy, proving it was warmer than his body felt.

“It isn’t cold, babe. You’re too hot right now. It’ll pass, trust me.” Seeing as Dante unconsciously avoided the water, you took your shoes, socks and shirt off, getting under the water alongside him. “Hey. You gotta be under it for a while. At least until your shivers wear off.”

“Babe… You’re gonna…” But before he could state you’d get all wet under the cold water with him, there you were, completely soaked – clothes and all. By your expression, Dante knew you couldn’t care less: you had eyes only for him, caressing his hair back and striking his tense neck and shoulders. “You’re gonna be a mess…” Either way, he mumbled a bit, while you got closer, massaging his hands. Dante shivered under the water, but it was easier to stand there in the ‘cold’ with you than all alone.

“I’m gonna stay here with you until you feel better, big guy.” Your tone was calm and lowered, bringing him comfort even if Dante felt like he was freezing. “Like I said, for better or for worse, Dante. We’re getting through this mess.”

And you could see how his shoulders turned a lot less tense, your lover melting under your fingers – even if still shivering for a while. You wrapped your arms around Dante in a promise to help him stand up and he didn’t even argue – only doing his best to stand alongside you, closing his eyes while giving you a tired hug.

It didn’t matter how long it would take – Dante wanted to hold you forever.

“What I’m most scared of…” You could hear his voice from the room while you served your cups of hot tea, appearing from the kitchen door as Dante observed you from the couch. “Is sick-days food. Never really did that, babe.”

“Oh, I can imagine. Your sick-days food must be terrible junk food and ice cream.” You raised one eyebrow, leaving the hot tea on the center table.

Dante was now wrapped around a cozy blanket, wearing his pajamas for cold days – a set of warmer pants and sweaters he had, nothing fancy, as always – tiredly sitting on the huge Devil May Cry sofa. His fever wore off after the shower and you managed to find a dose of painkillers that cared for his sore muscles and headache. After that big scare, Dante didn’t look like he was going to pass out and, for the moment, he had only a sore throat, annoying sneezes, and a little bit of cold.

Which forced him to stay on the couch while you prepared dinner – and your nighttime fun while he couldn’t do much but sit and wait his body to recover. That being said, now Dante watched you drag the TV to the room, as you always did every time you wanted to watch something.

Only Patty had a good use for that when she hanged around the Devil May Cry and watched her soap operas. You and Dante didn’t really use the TV much – the days you weren’t hunting, you were out or just spending some time together, talking, laughing, listening to music and having a bite to eat.

“Well… Comfort food still counts as sick food.” Dante shrugged, making you giggle with that statement. Of course, he would say that. “Bet you gonna make me eat some garlic soup or somethin’.”

“Now I’m thinking Eva straight up tortured you while you were sick.” You had your hands on your waist, watching him after finally finding the perfect place for the TV. “C’mon, garlic soup? That’s mean.”

“Nah, she wouldn’t do that. Only if me and Verge misbehaved.” And, by the way he looked at you after that phrase, you knew it was more often than one would expect – provoking laughs on you. “But soup was only for the days we were really bad, ya know?”

“You don’t consider yourself really bad today?” You shot back, making Dante deny nonchalantly. You did know, though, he wouldn’t consider that as a bad sickness day – you had already seen how demon poison could be a lot worse and, after those days, Dante could barely eat. So, you had an idea what bad meant on his dictionary.

Suddenly, you heard a knock on the door. Dante just curiously watched as you talked to whoever was there – if it was a job, he knew you’d turn it down because of him, but he wanted to say you could call Nero or Vergil to help and go to work. He watched in expectation until you returned with a white box on your hands.

“I do think pizza counts as sick-days food, though.”

As you said those words, a huge smile appeared on Dante’s lips, complemented by a hearty laugh. He always thought you were perfect to his eyes, but you never ceased to amaze him.

“Hah! Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” You thought it should be forbidden to be as happy as he was with that, but it was Dante. He got happy with such little things; it was so easy for you to make him smile. You opened the box of pizza right by the cups of tea, turning the TV on to enjoy the movie you had chosen that night. “No plates?”

“I know you enjoy eating your pizza by hand, red devil.” You slouched by his side, allowing Dante to wrap you under his blanket alongside him, cuddling up against your lovely half-demon. “Tonight, it’s Zorro and pizza night.”

“Hey, have I ever said you’re perfect?” Dante’s tired eyes smiled as he made you comfortable in his arms. If there was one thing he loved doing with you, was cuddling under the blankets on a cozy night like that. “’Cause you are, babe.”

“You are too…” You took his face with one of your hands, placing a warm kiss on his cheek – making Dante close his eyes and smile as he felt your lovely lips on his harsh skin. “My whacky woohoo pizza man.”

Among laughs and cuddles, you and Dante began your night of movies, pizza and some warm tea to count as caring for his sickness. He enjoyed every moment around your arms, every time your giggles took over the Devil May Cry, and every sigh as he closed his eyes and rested his tired head on your shoulders.

It turns out, being sick wasn’t that bad, after all. Now that he had you around to watch over him, Dante would never fear being alone through his hard times once more – he knew you’d always be there to hold him and assure his soul everything would be alright. It felt good not to be alone for a change.

Vergil

“You really are like Monty Python’s black knight.”

“And you are starting to sound like Dante.”

You just sported a half smile on your lips as you watched Vergil search for his latest read. He moved slowly, his eyes seeming to do all in his power to focus. Those silvery moons were surrounded by a reddish-purple aura, making him look positively exhausted. Vergil closed his eyes for a few seconds and took a deep breath before going back to his search.

“Currently, I’ll take that as a compliment.” You crossed your arms, leaning by the door frame. You knew precisely where the book was, but you wanted to see how far his headstrongness would take him. “You look terrible, Vergil.”

“I am fine.”

“’Tis but a scratch!” When the words left your lips, you started giggling as Vergil’s silvery eyes turned at you in a deadly fashion. “Are you going to start biting demon’s ankles as well, love?”

Vergil sighed, turning his whole body towards you, and kept his eyes closed for a while. Once he opened them again, he crossed his arms, as if he was about to face a horde of demons.

Or lecture you. It always had the same feel to it.

“I have already been through worse on my own. When I say it’s nothing, it’s because it is nothing, love.” Even though his words sounded harsh, his tone had some care hidden in it. “You don’t have to worry about me. I know how to deal with my sick body. I will tell you if…”

But, before he could say anything else, Vergil started coughing uncontrollably. You just stood there, watching him, eyebrows raised as you waited for your lover’s sudden cough fit to be over.

And, as he was done, Vergil’s eyes immediately found yours, seeing the ‘I told you so’ hidden in your expression.

“Not. A. Word.”

His voice was coarse and all you could do was stop yourself from laughing, agreeing with Vergil’s annoyed, harsh words.

He usually knew when you were right.

You settled for reading your own book, resting on the bed, while Vergil decided to go back to his studies by his desk. It was warm for both of you to remain on the same room in silence – your presences were reassuring to each other, but you didn’t need to spend social energy. That type of energy was quickly drained from you in any situation, but when it came to Vergil, he barely had any. The fact you understood his quietness wasn’t indifference, was lovely heartwarming for him.

It was, also, a very good way to keep an eye on and care for Vergil without him taking notice or being annoyed by it.

Your book was strategically placed on your bent legs, as to look like you were concentrated on your read instead of glancing him from time to time. Vergil sometimes closed his eyes, eventually taking his glasses off and leaving it on the desk, rubbing his forehead while letting out a deep exhale. He did look somber almost all the time, but not like that – it seemed he was bothered by something, not being able to fully concentrate on his work.

Vergil not focusing on reading was completely out of his character. That made you only more alert.

And your alertness paid off: suddenly, Vergil got up from his chair, making you immediately look into his eyes.

“Verge? Are you alright…?”

But, before he could answer to your words, Vergil’s head bent down. That made you close your book and leave it on the bed, carefully watching him. It seemed he tried to mutter something in the lines of “yes”, but his hand could barely reach his forehead and his mouth seemed not to answer to his commands anymore.

“Vergil!”

Before you could get up from the bed, he tried to take a step forward, only to have his legs falter and fall on the ground, barely conscious.

“Vergil!” You called again, running towards your blue devil – looking so homely with his dark long-sleeved shirt, pants and blue slippers you insisted on buying him – completely limp on the floor. “Hey! Open your eyes!”

Talking to him was to no avail. Vergil was completely out: eyes closed, mouth slightly open, forehead damp with sweat. You placed your hand on the skin of his neck.

“For the love of Sparda, Verge, you’re hotter than Hell…” You had your eyes wide open, checking his temperature again on his forehead. Vergil was naturally hotter than you, but he had taught you once how to check for his body temperature changes – as Vergil always had to be in control of everything to feel safe, he immediately accepted when you asked him to teach you demonic medicine and how to take care of him during an emergency. “I never thought this would be the emergency, love… Why didn’t you tell me how bad you were…? Vergil!”

You called him once again, noticing his eyes weren’t totally gone. He barely opened them, trying to focus on you – it seemed like a veil was between the two of you, his look foggy and caught between two worlds.

“I’m… Hmmm…” He used all the strength in his being at that moment to try to voice the words going through his head – but everything was hazy, and he could hardly keep his eyes open. Closing them once more, Vergil was about to fall.

“Hey! Stay here with me!” You grabbed his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake and forcing him to come back. Vergil looked at you, but it was clear he would soon fall again. “Stay awake for me, ok? Don’t sleep. Can you do that? For me?”

He couldn’t answer clearly, but he could mutter. Voicing a sound you couldn’t distinguish as words, Vergil barely made a movement with his head, confirming he would do everything he could to fulfill your request. Before leaving the room, though, you placed a quick peck on his knuckles – going to the kitchen right after, as fast as you could.

It had to be his blood pressure – you only saw Vergil close to that once when Dante brought him back home badly injured. On that day, Dante treated his brother with your help and a lot of demonic medicine, which strained his body and made Vergil get caught between being awake and dangerously passing out from a very low blood pressure.

Dante, then, taught you a mighty medicine for situations like that.

“Here, love. Open your mouth.” You didn’t even spend a minute out of the room, finding Vergil fighting his own body to remain aware. He couldn’t lift his silvery eyes to watch you, but he could obey.

A generous pinch of salt under the tongue and a shot of Holy Water. You held Vergil’s head up by placing one of your hands on the back of his neck and he took the shot as quickly as he always did. Keeping your gaze on his face, you watched as Vergil’s eyebrows furrowed and he bared his teeth, as if it burned him from the inside.

The expected reaction of Holy Water based medicine, as he always told you.

“Vergil…? Can you look at me…?” It took him a few seconds to properly open his tired eyes and raise them to you, a tinge of red as clouds surrounded the silver and paleness of his face. You entangled the fingers from your free hand with his, caressing the burning skin. “Can you squeeze my hand?”

“Yes…” His voice was grave and dragged, as Vergil barely squeezed your fingers back. It seemed more like he was caressing you rather than actively trying to press your hand.

You smiled, noticing as his lips tried to curve up before letting out a heavy sigh. Still holding his hand, you rested Vergil’s head on your thighs in order to use your other hand to run through his silver hair. He closed his eyes while inhaling deeply, making you call him again. As Vergil’s silvery gaze found yours once more, he didn’t scold you: it was important that he remained awake, or he could pass out and then things would get complicated.

Nevertheless, Vergil couldn’t find words to talk to you at the moment – if you wanted to have a conversation to keep him conscious, he wouldn’t mind gathering his strength to answer you. He enjoyed, though, having your fingers caressing his hair like that: Vergil wasn’t used to kindness and affection, he wasn’t used to that kind of touch. Laying tiredly on the floor with his head on your lap while you showed how much you cared for him… It was new.

And, even if he was extremely weak from being sick, something fluttered in Vergil’s chest – something he wasn’t used to experiencing.

“You are burning, love. We need to lower your temperature.” You still ran your fingers through his locks once you noticed that made his breathing even and helped Vergil remain focused on keeping his eyes open and his consciousness right there with you.

“Hmmm.” He barely agreed with his head, still caressing your hand. Usually, when Vergil started a gesture like that, he would take a long time to stop. He wouldn’t be too aware of it, though. “I need… A shower…”

“I’m afraid so.” You smiled back, glad to have such a responsible lover – even though his stubbornness led to that situation – and placing a long kiss on his flaming forehead. “I will do my best to carry you there, love. But I don’t think I’ll be able to carry a 6’5” heir of the powers of Sparda half-demon King of Hell all on my own – I’ll need some help.”

Vergil let out a slight chuckle as you mentioned that, closing his eyes while still caressing your fingers, as if to summon all his strength to aid you in that task. You weren’t exactly weak – but Vergil wasn’t exactly light as well. He wasn’t built like Dante, but his height and his fit physique made him a little too heavy for you to do it all on your own.

The fact you were willing to carry him made that same thing that was stirring in Vergil’s chest before come back twice as strong.

“Let’s go.” And as his voice sounded resolute with his eyes opening back with all their focus, you helped Vergil get up from the floor.

His legs, though, weren’t as resolute as his will. They couldn’t keep his weight up and you had to keep a strong grip on his shirt, one of his arms across your shoulders, so your blue devil wouldn’t fall once again. Vergil blinked a couple of times, letting out a few heavy sighs, barely able to keep himself up on his feet.

If it wasn’t for you, he would be on the floor. Again.

“Are you ok? I can’t put you under the water if your blood pressure is still low. It would be dangerous.” You placed your palm over his heart, checking how it was beating inside his chest. Vergil took another deep breath, turning his eyes to you – his forehead almost touching yours.

“I am ok. Getting up… It all turned black for a while.” He stated with an exhale by the end of the phrase – making you notice how much strength Vergil was putting into helping you care for him. “Don’t worry.”

“Oh, love. I’ll always worry and care about you.” You shook your head, a gentle smile playing in your lips as you held one of Vergil’s hands and placed the other on his waist in order to get him in the bathroom.

That something stirred once more inside Vergil’s chest with those words, making his eyes fill with water. Keeping his head low so you wouldn’t notice how they were glistening, Vergil didn’t want you to see how much that seemed to affect him – your care, your attention, your love.

He didn’t have to do everything on his own. He didn’t have to drag his tired body to his salvation all by himself. He didn’t have to muster all his strength to give a few steps just so he could live… No. He could lean on your shoulders and allow himself to have the help he needed to reach care.

With you around, Vergil wasn’t alone anymore. And that was so… Foreign. A kind of foreignness that made his breath shorter and his eyes threaten to show how much his heart was overflowing from your actions – like a hurt creature being touched with kindness for the first time in ages of longing.

If you kept being so kind to him, Vergil soon wouldn’t be able to hold back his tears so expertly.

“Can you take your clothes off or do you need my help?” You helped him sit by the bathtub, his legs still too weak to make Vergil stand tall as he always had.

“Hmmm. I can do it.” He muttered back, watching as you immediately started to run the shower water. Taking off his slippers, Vergil slowly began the process of getting undressed, starting by his shirt. His voice, though, came back in an almost inaudible murmur. “Thank you, y/n.”

You turned around, eying him intently as Vergil kept his head low, dealing with his pants. It looked like he was absorbed by his task at hand, but you knew your blue devil enough to know it wasn’t the case: Vergil hoped to avoid your eyes, probably trying to hide how much it all affected him.

With his hair already falling on his forehead, his silvery gaze was hidden behind his locks, therefore you couldn’t see what was going on in his soul. Vergil always tried to remain serious, with his emotions meticulously under control, rejecting whatever kind of expression that could indicate a vulnerability. You knew he didn’t do it because he tried to look strong, but rather because he was terrified of being vulnerable.

And, that day, Vergil was as vulnerable as he could be.

If any demon decided to attack, it would be on you to take Yamato and slay all of them mercilessly in a matter of seconds, just like your lover used to do. Vergil would have to sit back and hope for the best – and that was extremely alien to him. He wasn’t used to have someone else who would risk anything and everything to keep him safe.

“You don’t need to thank me, Vergil. I’ll do this a thousand times if I have to.” You murmured back, provoking no reaction on him. As Vergil tried to stand up, you approached your lover, holding his hands to offer him somewhere to lean on.

As he got up, towering over you as always, you noticed Vergil kept his head low, hair over his gaze, in order to avert your eyes.

“I will thank you… A thousand times if I have to.” His voice was barely a whisper, making you smile – even though the situation at hand was a little more complicated. Standing by his side again, you wrapped one arm around his waist in case Vergil lost his balance and threatened to fall.

“Let’s see what I can do for today, at least.”

With that, you helped Vergil get under the water – winning an instant glare from him as soon as it touched his skin. You could almost hear all the curses going through his head, letting out a quick giggle as he sighed and accepted his fate. The water must have felt freezing cold, given how hot he was, but Vergil knew it was all for him to feel better – he could never scold you for being so kind to him.

And, as your hands helped him shower and your voice kept talking the most varied of subjects to him, Vergil allowed his eyes to finally overflow the stirring in his chest – mixing with the water pouring on his body, you would never notice how much emotion he had inside for you.

Or, at least, you would pretend not to.

“Do you need any help…?”

“I needed you to stay cozy and quiet where I left you in the couch, my lovely hazelnut.” You turned around, sighing from seeing Vergil practically dragging himself to the kitchen – even if he was almost depleted of energy, he would offer help so not to feel completely useless. His head was strong as a hazelnut: so difficult to break open. “Alas, here you are.”

“Hmmm. I… Can do something.” Vergil’s eyebrows were furrowed, still not completely sold on being cared for without doing nothing. Whenever someone was nice to him, it always came with a price – Vergil most certainly wasn’t used to receive so much without having to give nothing back. And, even if he knew you would never ask anything from him, that only made him want to do something.

Whatever it was. Even if you just asked him to caress your face.

“You don’t need to. The only thing you need to do is rest.” You approached to hold one of his hands, playing with his now cold fingers for a while before walking him to one of the chairs by the kitchen island. “Or better yet, now you need to eat.”

“I…?” Vergil raised one of his brows as he sat down, watching you turn off the stove and place a ceramic bowl in front of him.

“I’ll be joining you. Don’t worry.” You smiled calmly, placing another bowl across the island. Between you two, you finally rested the pan with warm soup.

“Hmmm.” He gave it a long look, not knowing exactly what to make of it. “Is it… Garlic…?”

“Oh, no. Don’t worry, I won’t put you through that sort of torture, love.” You quickly giggled, making Vergil’s expression lighten up – a small smile appearing on his lips. “I wonder if Eva ever resorted to this kind of ancient human medicine.”

“Only when she had to correct our behavior.” He chuckled back, remembering the days he and Dante misbehaved so much – usually getting into so many fights – she used garlic soup as dinner to teach them a lesson. “It was efficient.”

“I can see that. I guess now I have a weapon when you and Dante won’t stop arguing.” As you saw the way Vergil twisted his nose, you laughed, pouring him some soup in his bowl. “This is a simple potato soup. My great grandmother used to do it and my mom made it for me when I was too sick and barely able to eat. I guessed it would be nice for you today.”

Vergil thanked with a gesture from his head, taking the bowl in his hands. He watched as you served yourself, while blowing a spoonful of soup so his tongue wouldn’t burn in the process. Once it touched his lips, Vergil lost his breath for a while.

It tasted like safety.

Precisely the days he ruthlessly left behind, the human part he buried so deep inside his soul – that taste of a long, lost past when he was warm, loved, lively and safe. When he had someone to patch his bloody knees when he fell; when he would be held when his body was too weak to carry him through the day; when he could close his eyes and fall asleep in a warm, cozy place, feeling a gentle stroke on his cheeks and having the knowledge nothing could hurt him.

Those… Emotions. Vergil thought them to be lost, right where he buried his weak self in order to survive. But there they were: warming his chest with tinges of gold, taking away the air from his lungs, trembling the silver spoon in his hands – making his eyes threaten to need another shower.

“Vergil…? Is everything alright…? Does it taste bad…?” He was sitting perfectly still, looking at the bowl with teary eyes, making you wonder. It was fine to you, but maybe his sense of taste was altered enough so he wouldn’t be able to eat properly.

“No. It is…” He took a deep breath, exhaling with a small tremble in his voice. “Perfect. Thank you.”

You never imagined you would hear him thanking you twice in a day. Smiling to yourself, you decided to leave Vergil to his thoughts – and, as always, he was grateful you understood the time he needed to understand his own feelings.

That night, you slept with Vergil’s head laying safe and sound on your chest, calm as the moonlight itself while he listened to his favorite song.

Your heartbeat.

255 notes · View notes

plentyoffandoms · 1 year

Note

darius martin x female reader? darius proposes to the reader in the ring with the help of the lads & julia hart

The One For Me

Darius Martin x f/Reader

Main Masterlist ♡ AEW Masterlist ♡ Darius Martin Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: Some swearing.

Gifs & photos do not belong to me. 1st gif @junglehooks 2nd gif and 3rd gif @sethfknrollins

WC: 1155

Summary: Darius Martin proposes to his girlfriend, with the help from their friends.

YN'S POV

I have no idea what the hell is going on with Darius lately, but he is starting to worry me.

It all started about two months ago. We were out shopping, and we were walking past a jewellery store.

I practically dragged him into the store, wanting to find the perfect charm to add to Julia's charm bracelet.

We both have charm bracelets, and we like to buy little charms in each city we visit for one another.

As I was standing there, looking at the little charms, trying to remember which ones she had, something caught my eye.

It was a ring, and not just any ring, but the most beautiful ring I have ever seen.

I walked towards the display case in a daze, abandoning the whole reason why I even walked into this store in the first place.

A sales woman came up to me, and we talked, her asking if we were looking at anything in particular.

"No, just looking around." I said.

"Well, just let me know if you need anything. I am more than happy to help."

We left the store a bit later, and ever since that day, Darius has been acting strange.

He has become almost secretive. Always on his phone or hiding his phone screen from me.

He always told me who he was talking to, even if it was a telemarketer or a family member, but now all he says is, "No one."

I even asked his brother what the hell was going on with him, and Dante wasn't any help either.

No one would tell me what was going on. Not Dante, not Anthony, and well, Tyler just pulled his whole 'Hook' persona and just stared at me blankly while eating a bag of chips.

Now I am here, standing at the side of the ring, cheering for Dante and Darius as they had their match against the House of Black. I'm trying to pretend that my whole life isn't falling apart.

DARIUS MARTIN'S POV

The ring felt heavy in my hand as I handed it to Tyler Andretti. "You good man?" Anthony asked me as he could see how nervous I was.

"I can't believe I am going to ask her to marry me. What if she says no? What if she thinks I am rushing it?"

My brother snorted at that. "YN will never say no. She pretty much calls you here, husband anyways, and rushing it? You have been together since you were both 16 years old." Dante said to me as he placed his hands on my shoulders, trying to calm me down.

"But what if she doesn't like how I am going to propose?" I was nervous about that.

"You know you are talking about the same woman who literally went on stage at her own 16th birthday party and asked you out, right? This just makes sense. You two have always been flashy."

I calmed down enough as Dante finished speaking. He was right.

"Besides, you should do it tonight. She already thinks you are acting strange. May as well put her mind at ease." Ty said from the side, pulling his hood down.

The match came to an end, and the House of Black won. They were announced as the winners, and then the arena went Black.

At this point, YN was completely in the dark, having no idea about any of this.

I hid under the ring, waiting for my cue.

I smiled as our song could be heard throughout the arena.

I could hear the crowd muttering clearly confused.

Step one is complete. Ty set it all up. The first song we ever danced to became our song. Bleeding Love blared through the speakers.

Now I just have to wait for the music to stop playing.

YN'S POV

What the hell is going on?

The lights were turned off, and is that Bleeding Love playing?

I felt someone throw me over their shoulder, and I screamed and started to hit their back, demanding I be put down.

The person and I didn't go far, and as I was placed down, I realised I was standing in the middle of the ring.

The lights came on, and I blinked, trying to adjust to them once more.

I wasn't alone in the ring.

Tyler, Dante, Julia, and Athony were there.

I looked around, confused at the four of them. Then the music stopped, and I heard the gasps from the crowd.

"YN, look down," Julia said, and I looked down until my eyes landed on Darius. Then Ty stood next to him and handed him a mic before the both of them got into the ring.

"Now I need everyone to be quiet, just for a few moments, okay? I have to ask YN a very serious question." Darius said as he addressed the crowd.

Once the crowd was silent, he turned to me, and it finally dawned on me what was happening.

"YN, it still fascinates me how far we have come. From all the difficult situations we’ve been through, now we’re here. For example, I remember when we were 17 years old and we broke up for the first and only time. It was during tornado season, and it was a bad one. The warning went off, and my family and I went for shelter, but the whole damn time I was thinking about you. I was wondering if you were okay or not. The moment I saw you running down my street, crashing into me and making the two of us almost topple over, I knew I couldn't spend another moment without you by my side.

With all the good times and hardships we’ve been through, one thing remains the same – you are the person I want to spend the rest of my life with."

He was now on one knee, looking up at me. I was waiting for him to say those four simple words.

"Will you marry him?"

I was startled when I heard our friends ask instead of him, but I couldn't stop the tears from finally falling.

"Yes." I choked out.

I didn't even get a chance to look at the ring before he put it on, and stood up and kissed me.

The crowd went wild, as did Ty, Dante, Tyler, Anthony, and Julia.

Julia came rushing over and pulled me into a hug, practically screaming with excitement. The rest of AEW came out and started to clap and holler at us.

I finally looked at my ring, and I gasped. It was the same one from the jewellery store.

I looked at Darius, and he just gave me a sly smile. "So this is why you have been acting strange, Darius." It wasn't a question, just a fact.

"Wanted it to be perfect for you. You deserve nothing less than perfect baby girl."

Tag List: If you would like to be added, please let me know. @lghockey @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @crowleysqueenofhell @thenerdybaker523 @nicoleveno14 @1rsolideranna @legit9thlunaticwarrior @blaquekittycat @wwenhlimagines @melissahausen @tahiri-veyla @malakaiblacksgirl1989

#aew #all elite wrestling #reader imagine #female reader #reader insert #darius martin fic #darius martin imagine #darius martin x f/reader #darius martin x reader #darius martin #Darius Martin fanfic #darius martin x y/n #wrestler imagine #wrestler x reader #wrestler x female reader

44 notes · View notes

moodyglitchmoon · 6 months

Text

Happy LATE Birthday to my baby girl, Zapp Renfro ✨️

I love this, Bootleg Dante looking a$$ baby 👶

I have a headcanon that Dante from DMC is actually Zapp Renfro father 👨 👨‍🍼

#kekkai sensen #zapp renfro #illustration art #artist on tumblr #anime #artwork #fan art #blood blockade battlefront #anime fan art

6 notes · View notes

jaeheeweek22 · 1 year

Text

✨☕️ The Jaehee Week 2022 Schedule is Here!

Hello! And, finally, welcome to…. Jaehee Week 2022! ✨💛

A creation event to celebrate Jaehee Kang’s birthday that will take place the least week of December, with every day having a new prompt.

Here is the schedule for this year!

The theme is “A word + a quote.” You can choose to create something based on both, or only one of them, or combine if you wish. The goal here is to inspire creativity!

Here’s a list of the prompts, for your convenience:

day 1 (25/12): mistletoe - “all my heart longs for, fulfill” [Immortal Aphrodite, Sappho]

day 2 (26/12): honey - “I cannot deny myself any longer.” [Una Llum Tímida, Andrea Puig & Africa Alonso Bada]

day 3 (27/12): arabica - “open your life, open your hands.” [I Don’t Want To Live A Small Life, Mary Oliver]

day 4 (28/12): cupcake - “love liberates. It doesn’t bind. Love says I love you.” [Maya Angelou]

day 5 (29/12): film - “the lights go off and that’s when I know you.” [Una Llum Tímida, Andrea Puig & Africa Alonso Bada]

day 6 (30/12): dance - “I bet you could sometimes find all the mysteries of the universe in someone’s hand.” [Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, Benjamin Aliré Saenz]

day 7 (31/12): ring - “under the water, I know of a timeless place.” [Una Llum Tímida, Andrea Puig & Africa Alonso Bada]

Any and all creations are allowed! Whether it’s fanart, fanfiction, graphics… so long as it has Jaehee as the main focus, everything is welcome. Go crazy go wild!

Please, tag your creations with #JaeheeWeek22 as well as the day, so for example, #JHW01, #JHW02.. etc. If you post on ao3, please use this tags too.

You don’t have to submit everything in the day. It’s okay to post a couple days late, this event is just for fun! So, don’t stress about it.

…And that’s everything. If you have any questions, please send an ask, and we’ll be happy to reply.

Hope everyone has fun during this week, and happy early birthday, Jaehee Kang 💛✨

53 notes · View notes

sevicia · 9 months

Note

happy birthday or late birthday i'm sorry if im late dante ... but you know i love you okay ? gives you a kiss on your forehead . and if its not your birthday at all you can kill me with a hammer

I would nevarr kill you with a hammer I 🩷 you forever

#danties

4 notes · View notes

sequencefairy · 6 months

Note

There’s a very fucked up part of my brain that wants to hear your theories about the alleged NYC polycule 😭 but it’s also…too much lmaooooo

Beloved, sweet, wonderful anon, you tempt me too much with your repressed desires to join me in the tiny closet off my office, where I keep my bulletin boards and my red string.

I should note, before we begin, that my contributions to these theories are but contributions, the true architect is a friend, who I will not publicly out, but they know who they are.

With that out of the way, let me paint you a picture, dear sweet anon.

It was late summer, I had watched six hours of TV over the course of three days, because my friend had talked about this TV show to me, and the characters therein, for weeks. I did not expect to like this TV show, I wanted to watch it solely so that I could participate fully in conversation, because I enjoy very much when someone I care about loves something and shares that with me. Despite my intentions to the contrary, I emerged from the six hours of TV wholly changed.

And so began my not-so-slow downward spiral.

(under the cut)

My friend and I had deep and complicated discussions about characterization and the narrative choices and depictions of mental illness and trauma. We shared vulnerabilities, as ways to expand our understanding of the depths that this show plumbs, but does not always reach with solidity. We thirsted. Oh, did we thirst.

I came to the conclusion that I did, indeed, want to climb Oscar Isaac like the compact, solidly built tree that he is. I wanted to bury my fingers in his hair, I wanted to see him smile. I wanted to see the characters he plays beaten, bloody, and miserable. I wanted to see them broken, but I also wanted them to heal, such as they were able, given their unique circumstances.

In short, I became obsessed.

My life has spun wildly out of control, I am sitting on roughly 50k of Moon Knight fanfic, currently unfinished, but being worked on feverishly. You are not here for that though, so let us move on.

We initially began our conversations regarding the NYC polycule on a fair evening in September, when my friend arrived in my dms to alert me to an item of interest. It was a photo, from September 9th, posted on Elvira's Instagram account, and in it, was Oscar, one of his children, and a man, tagged as Tim Nolan.

Further research revealed, of course, that Tim Nolan is none other than the long-time hair stylist for Oscar. We reviewed Tim's Instagram page, thrilled by the discovery that Tim seems to accompany Oscar on many filming trips, including during the filming for Moon Knight in Jordan.

Knowing this, and also knowing that the only other person who appears in photos in their house with their children with such familiarity is Pedro Pascal, we began to make certain assumptions about this relationship.

I won't spend too much time on Pedro Pascal, I think we all know that he's involved.

For now, let us continue along with Tim.

Oscar has been filming In The Hand of Dante in Venice, of late, and so we have been thrilled to see BTS pictures of him, on set, and etc. We have also been thrilled, most recently, by Tim's presence. Tim recently celebrated his 41st birthday in Rome, and the following weekend, was with Oscar being touristy.

Some things to note:

Elvira's comment under Tim's birthday photo, which was taken in Rome. This is not unusual in and of itself, she is very free with her affection for the people in her life, and her comment is correct, he is looking extremely good.

Tim touring around Rome with Oscar, on the weekend after his birthday, clearly not at work, just there to have fun.

The next photo is the one that sealed the deal for me. You have probably seen this one, because I reblogged it onto my blog, but here it is again, for posterity.

We know, from various interviews, and behind the scenes footage, and the way that Oscar is in them, that he is affectionate with his male friends, we know that he is happy to be close to them physically, but there's ... something about this picture. There's a familiarity, a casual intimacy, a closeness that speaks to other kinds of closeness.

All this to say that I believe that Tim Nolan is and has been in the polycule, just like Pedro Pascal is and has been. Perhaps not at the same time, perhaps there are others who move in and out, but the anchor is that Oscar and Elvira have a marriage with room for others, and I wouldn't be surprised, at all, if someday, someone made a mistake, and posted something we shouldn't be seeing, on a public account.

Alternatively, I am going to move to NYC with the intention of becoming another member of this small, loving group of people.

I'm sure my partner will understand.

#jess answers #anonymouse #not tagging this with anything in particular 'cause i don't think i wanna deal with people coming to pest me about my fun speculations #i truly cannot get over that most recent picture tho #it actually made us both yell that night #i went into a wholly unrelated discord server to scream about it because i had too many feelings to contain #i did this instead of working on my wip which means my friend is gonna smack me #because i surely owe them words today #anyway this is all in good fun of course

4 notes · View notes

your-1up-girl · 2 years

Text

Neither Did I (Nicola Francesca x Fem!Reader)

Happy birthday to my love @sammilimyy I wanted to make something for you again this year so I figured I'd do alittle something something for your best Italian boi. I hope you like it Sam! You are so special to me and I am always greatful to have you in my life! I love you so much my love!

Word count: 3748

Warnings: Angst with fluff, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of WWI, probably incorrect historical facts? it's been a while, maybe OOC Nicola? (I broke him tbh), may have romanticized the Mafia (honestly the Mafia talk is so little that this warning may be unnecessary) so please understand that this is a work of FICTION and not meant to be taken seriously, the Mafia irl is messed up sooooo yeah, semi-edited, no beta we die like men or whatever

Ever since you were little, your mother used to tease you about how, “Nicola Francessca was going to marry you.” Obviously, being a child you had no idea how she would come to that conclusion. To you, Nicola was the person you could rely on. As a child he was there when you were upset for whatever reason. He was your guardian angel through it all. There were many nights you could remember of just spending time on one of the old rooftops in town and gaze into the brilliant sky together. You saw him and his family as part of your own and they welcomed you with open arms. Well, at least Dante and Gullia did. Nicola saw them as the most important people in his life at the time so only saw their introductions and approval as necessary. Your childhood with him was one that was constantly filled with laughter. There wasn’t a moment when you were not with him.

Time passed; both of you grew and, of course, so did your feelings. While Dante continued to have that baby brother charm you loved to tease him about, Nicola, you began to see in a different light. Your smile changed when you were with him, the way his hand felt in yours felt different, and the sound of your name falling from his lips became more and more special. Nicola too changed. Long gone was the scrawny boy you would playfully make fun of. Now, he has somehow grown into an attractive young man. And somehow, said man seemed to know this effect he had on you. Many times during your teens he would jest and tease about how you always looked away when he smiled at you. Or how you got tongue tied when he tossed any sort of praise your way.

It was embarrassing really how flustered you got around him. In your mind, it was only a one way feeling, but Nicola felt the same way. Your eyes grew bright when he showed you a part of town you didn’t know, or when he brought you sweets and coffee out of the blue just to see your excitement at what new dulce he has brought you today. Everything you did seemed to strike him through the heart. Time and time again, he was resorted to putty in his hands at your voice and any type of request you gave him.

“Nicola, can we go to the garden today?”

“I know you’re busy but, do you think we can get more treats from the bakery?”

“Won’t you come in? Mia Mamma made enough dinner to feed five of us.”

How could he resist you? You who looked at him like he was your world. He didn’t realize when it happened but during the moments spent together, a treasured calm from the storm of the Mafia life, he had fallen for you. You made him want to be a better man. Nicola craved for your touch. Any opportunity he could get to hold your hand was a gift he didn’t want to let go of. Leaning on your shoulder while you sat, holding you close to him when it got cold and you forgot to bring a shall, laying his head on your lap. It was all the soft, innocent touch that he wanted. He couldn't go too far however, all of them must remain–friendly? Yes, friendly. Two young teenagers who found comfort in each other. Nothing more, nothing less. But what if he wanted it to be more?

“Hey, Nicola?” It was late in the afternoon. You both decided to walk around the town even if Nicola’s father wanted him home but he never listened to what that bastard had to say. Nicola held your hand as you strolled down the cobblestone streets taking in the setting sun and soon blooming night-life the town had to offer.

“Yes Darling?” The pet name he honored you with always caused you to shy away. It was subtle this time, but Nicola saw the way you smiled at the ground and felt the way you squeezed his hand a bit more lovingly.

“Nicola,” Composing yourself, you began again. “What am I to you?” It was an unexpected question and caused him to just barely falter in the pase he set with you but luckily you didn’t notice the slip.

“What are you to me?”

“Yes.” The young girl gazed up at him with brilliant eyes full of adoration.

Damn it, she’s going to bring me to an early grave.

“You are very special to me my dear. I always look forward to the time we get to spend together.” Then he stopped, turned you to face him, and brought your mouth to his lips. He gave you nothing more than a chaste kiss but somehow, you felt like it was enough for the time being. “There isn’t ever a moment where I don’t think about you.” Amore mio, he wanted to add that. How desperately he wanted to add those two small words to fortify this relationship with you. But he couldn’t. He was only 17 and you 16, there was that small chance, that small seed of doubt that, once it takes root, is sometimes impossible to remove. So he remained in this space with you. Mutual pining that neither of you were ready to confront.

And you were both happy. Soon, when the time was right, you both would express your mutual feelings for each other and from there you would live a long, happy life with him. Oh how silly you were.

In 1914, an announcement was made, one that many knew was coming. The Kingdom of Italy had officially joined the war. Any young man at the age of 18, would be drafted to fight alongside the Central Powers. And of course Nicola Francessca was one of those chosen men.

It was depressing really, the only ones who saw him off were you, Dante, and Gullia. Dante, of course, held it together better than Gullia did, she practically saw Nicola as her own son. Both of them said their heartfelt goodbyes and they gave you a moment with him.

“H-”

“You shouldn’t have to go.” You spoke with a strain in your voice and refused to meet his sapphire eyes. Nicola saw as spots of the ground got darker from your falling tears. “But you’re leaving, for who knows how long, and-and I-” You broke the sentence and raised the back of your hand to your hidden face.

“Hey-”

“How will I contact you? What if they don’t allow letters? Or what if something happens to you? How will Gullia know? How will Dante? How will-”

“Look at me amore mio.” Nicola’s voice was soft and secure. But the calmness of his tone wasn’t what made you look at him. He’s never called you that before. Nicola wrapped one hand around your head, fingers lacing into your hair, placed his bags on the ground and brought you to his chest. He held you there for who knows how long and the shock on your face must have been a sight to see. “I promise nothing will happen. I guarantee you that I'll only be gone for a few months.” Then he chuckled, the vibrations bringing you some kind of comfort, “Or don’t tell me, you’ve become so attached to the hip that you can survive a few little months without me?” A scoff left your lips. Part of you was upset that he dared tease you at a time like this but a bigger part felt that same comfort you always did. You wrapped your arms around his waist and closed your eyes. You took in the feel of his clothes against your skin. The way his arms felt around you. The scent of the cologne he always wore ever since you bought it for his birthday years ago. But most importantly you listened carefully to his heartbeat.

Thum-bum.

It truly calmed you. Nicola calmed you. You listened to that steady beat as he held you.

“I promise, I’ll come back to you. I told you before, there isn’t ever a moment where I don’t think about you.” His heartbeat didn’t waver. You could trust him.

A sniffle escaped and you buried your face into his uniform. “I’m holding you to that.” A chuckle verberated again in his chest. When the train whistled, you finally broke apart. Nicola wiped the remaining tears from your eyes and picked up his bags. His back turned to you and he walked to the train door entrance, handed the conductor his ticket and that was that.

As you walked back to Gullia and Dante, a dark thought crossed your mind. The thought that that possibly was the last time you’d ever see Nicola again. The tears came again. It was frustrating really. Gullia saw your plight and held you as you both walked. Danted gave you a handkerchief to dry your tears, and you whispered, “There’s still so much I need to tell him. Why didn’t I tell him?” Not knowing what to say, Gullia could only tighten her grip, and Dante held your hand in comfort.

He was a liar Nicola. You knew it was childish but you truly thought that he would only be gone for a few months. A few months had passed and he still wasn’t home. It made you cry even now, as you packed your bags. Burlone had gotten too dangerous with the war. More soldiers had been stationed in town and the government had gotten forceful on many of the residents. You and your Mamma had to leave. She said that you would stay with a family member up north. It was calmer, she claimed. You barely had time to say goodbye to Dante or Gullia. You both made your escape from the town. Two pricey tickets later, you and your Mamma left. You heard her light snores and the clacking of the train filled the ride. As you gazed out the window, the only thing you could think about was how thankful you were to have that last moment with Nicola.

Years passed.

The war was over.

Italy had won? Lost? You didn't care anymore. Your Mamma had somehow found a way to get your old house back. You didn't think that you would see it again. The sights and sounds. It would take a while but eventually you figured things would return to some type of normalcy. It had been nearly four years since you last saw Burlone. Since you last seen Dante, Gullia-

And Nicola.

He never wrote to you. There was a small hope that when you got to your old home there would have been a pile of letters just waiting for you, but now. Just a dirty old house. A few neighbors who stayed helped you clean the place up and after a month it began to feel like you could live normally again. You began going out into town more frequently months later. Saying hello to old friends and visiting those who you could remember. And everytime without fail, you'd walk by the Falzone manor. You also never asked about Nicola. It's been long enough now that he would have come to see you. If you hadn't heard a word from him, you just assumed the worst and allowed your heart time to process it.

A few people told you that the Falzone did okay all things considered. There were a few spots here and there while the Kingdom of Italy was stationed here. But the order they kept or tried to keep was to the best of their ability.

"Oh wait, I remember you!" One bar owner exclaimed that caused nearby patrons to look as well, "You were Nicola Francesca's little girlfriend!"

"Well, yes I guess that's me. But I was never-"

"Look at how grown up you are bella! I'm sure Nicola was happy to see you once he got home."

Your head snapped up, "Nicola? He's-he's home? Alive?"

The bar owner gave a bellowing laugh, seeming unable to understand your shock, "Why of course bella. I think I saw him walking around not too long ago. Went down the street where the cafe is." Last you knew, there wasn't a cafe that way but it's been a while so who knows. You said your thanks, secured the groceries you had, and ran in the direction he pointed.

There just like he said, was a cafe and there sitting outside of it was Nicola. He looked older which was a given but being apart from him truly made your heart grow fonder. You wanted nothing more than to run to him. Finally tell him everything you should have said at the train station. But why didn't he come to you first? Did he even ask around if you were home or where you were? You didn't care.

Steeling your nerves, you approached the table. But as you did, another girl sat across from him. She was beautiful to say the least but that wasn't what stopped. What stopped you was how Nicola stood from his chair to give this girl a kiss on the cheek and hold her hand as they enjoyed their coffee.

What?

You didn't understand it at all. All this time, you thought that he would come home and you both would finally be together. Why, why was your Nicola Francesca flirting with another woman? Your heart dropped and you felt like you suddenly didn't know where you were. Feet remained unmoved as you stood there to witness it all. Only when Nicola laughed did you finally snap out of it. You turned to leave but of course-

"Oh sorry signorina, I didn't- Ah little bambina." That voice and nickname only Marcos ever called you that.

"Hello Marcos, sorry for bumping into you but I have to leave." You made quick work to pick up the things you dropped. People were starting to stare and you wanted to go home.

"Didn't realize you were back. It's good to see you again."

"Same here, look Marcos, if you want to talk later I'm sure mia Mamma would love to have you over. We still live in the same house." Marcos tried to talk to you more but you took your leave. You forced yourself not to look back but you weren't strong enough. With a glance over your shoulder, you saw Nicola stare at your retreating body. Mouth ajar and a mix of shock and something else written on his face.

A day passed, then two, it wasn't until the third day that Nicola showed up at your door. Your mom welcomed him with open arms talking about how handsome he was and how it's been too long. You heard it all from your bedroom upstairs but didn't make an effort to see him. Not until there was a small knock on your door did you move and there he stood. Nicola had on a green button up tucked into his pants. You noticed his eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes were the same but different. It still felt like home when you looked at them but it didn't have that same light you once remembered. He also held a bouquet of pink and blue flowers, ones he knew were your favorite. None of that mattered now however.

"Is there a reason you're at my door, Francesca?"

Ouch, fine, he deserved that one. "I came to see you."

"Yes?" You folded your arms, "Well you've seen me so now you can leave."

He ignored that comment, "I didn't know you were home. I was told that you left town soon after I left. Did you-"

"Why Nicola?" You stopped him before it could go any further. Not wanting to beat around the bush you just cut to the chase, "Why didn't you come see me when I came back?"

"Why didn't you come see me?"

Tears welled up, he had the audacity to throw the question back at you? "I heard nothing from you once you left. I thought you died, Nicola. At the train station, you said you would come back. You said that I was special to you so-so why didn't you-Why did it take you so long?"

He didn't have an answer.

"An-an-and why," Damnit, keep it together. Do not cry in front of him, it's not worth it. "Why were you with that other woman? Is that what you are now? A shameless flirt? There isn’t ever a moment where I don’t think about you. Did those words mean anything to you Nicola? Because they meant the world to me."

It was silent and before you knew it, you had closed the door on him. You thought that was the end. Truly you did. But the next night while your mom went to dinner with Marco, Nicola arrived once again.

"Let me in. Please?"

You sighed and against your better judgment allowed him entry. A shoe box was tucked in his arms. You led him to your room and sat on your bed and him in a chair and waited.

"I want to explain everything to you and then you can decide if you want me to leave, okay?" You nodded with crossed arms. Nicola then took a deep breath before continuing. “Not that this would make you feel any better, or to make myself look better, but I didn’t write to Gullia either. The only person who I wrote to was Dante.” You scoffed, “Just hold on. There was a reason for it.” The grip he had on the box seemed to loosen as he hung his head. “There was nothing to write home about in the trenches. Everyday I would see someone else lose a life out there. I thought that being in the Mafia I'd seen it all but-There were somethings I just couldn’t get over.” He stopped for a moment. By then you had unfolded your arms and softened your demeanor. You reached out to hold his hand and he turned it over to hold it back tightly.

“Oh Nicola. I had no idea.”

“No. You didn’t. But that’s how I wanted it to be. I’m not the same man I was when I left. No man out there ever comes back the same. Sometimes, while we tried to sleep, they would play loud music or make noise to keep us awake. I thought I would lose my mind. When it was all over, when they said we could go home, I didn't feel like I was good for you any more. I didn’t feel like I was the same man you cared for. The same man that you found comfort in died. I’m all that’s left.”

His breath was shaking. All you could do was sit, hold his hand, and listen. You felt useless but you hoped that it brought Nicola some type of comfort.

“I came home. I did my best to continue where I left off. I asked Gullia about you. She said you had moved to a safer place and felt relieved. I didn’t have to face you as I am now. But then you came back. I saw you on the first day you came to the town. Graceful, talking to everyone like you never left, and all smiles. Beautiful, beautiful smiles. You were so happy, I didn’t want to ruin that. I flirted with other women to forget about you but I knew where my heart lied.” Finally, he let go of your hand. Nicola took the shoe box he had and placed it in your lap; it was heavier than you expected. “I remember everything I said to you at that train station.” He gestured for you to open the box. When you did, the tears that welled up began to fall.

They were letters in unopened envelopes all addressed to you. You went through a few in Nicola’s presence and continued to cry. All of them talking about how much he missed you. How much he longed to be by your side again. Your heart felt like it would burst from this overwhelming feeling.

There was a raspiness in your voice, “You-you never sent them.”

“It didn’t feel right. I just needed you to know,” Nicola got up and placed his lips against your cheek. One hand played with your hair and he took a deep breath of your familiar scent. The scent and feel of something he missed for so long. “I never stopped thinking about you.” He kissed your cheek. Then stayed there. In between shaky breaths you said.

“I don’t want you to leave me. Please, not again.” The breath he held was released, he was at ease with his heart and mind. You brought him into a hug and he wasted no time to return it. He laid you back on the bed and you took him into your chest. He found solace in being with you. As he rested, you played with his hair, running your fingers through them as both your breaths steadied. After all this time, you had him here. He wasn’t going anywhere, you were going to make sure of that. Nicola picked up his head and gazed into your eyes. A hand brushed his bangs out of his face so you could get a better look at him. Yes, he was different. He wasn’t the same; but you didn’t care. He was here and he was yours and you his. He cupped your cheek and brought you in for a kiss. The kiss was years in the making as you both secured the relationship. Your lips meshed with one another in imperfect harmony. It was somewhat unconventional but neither cared. You leaned in more to just taste more of him, all of him. It was intoxicating.

When you broke apart, his cheek made a home against your neck as you planted kiss after kiss on his head. Nicola wrapped his arms around you and once again laid with you. Playing with his hair, the tears had stopped and you felt like you could breathe once more. He had softly whispered “I won’t leave you again amore mio.”

You thought back to his words again, “You truly never stopped thinking about me?”

“Not once.”

You smiled and, holding him tighter, responded, “Neither did I."

#i don't always write but when I do #it seems to only be for you lmao #happy birthday sam!!!#i did my best so i hope you like it #nicola francesca x reader #piofiore #piofiore the fated memories #nicola francesca #piofiore fanfiction #piofiore no banshou #piofiore fated memories #nicola x reader #nicola francesca x female reader #nicola francesca fanfiction #otome #my writing

24 notes · View notes

casitafallz-a · 2 years

Photo

Decay AU | Lost somewhere called home P3

Dante wasn’t sure why the adults were cross between looking happy, sad and then running off to whisper and he was sure him and his Mami were the topic but… he was fairly happy for his Abuelo to pass him off to his Tia before Tia Mirabel began to head away Casita and up the steps, calling for Tia Luisa to come with.

He waved at her as they went.

“Where are we going?” Dante asked curiously, “Are we all have a nap? A sleepover?”

Tia Mirabel chuckled though shook her head. “Well, I think you’ve had a long day and I have a super comfy bed that you will definitely enjoy.”

“Why can’t I go into my room?” He pointed downwards towards his mother’s door, where just past her door was his door; only this one didn’t have his usual picture on but he knew it was his…it didn’t make any sense for there to be anyone else’s. “It’s really nice and Mami always reads me a story when she’s back.”

“Well…” Tia Mirabel paused, “I can definitely read you a story but… you’ve got to wait until Abuela’s talked to the other family members before you can touch the door.”

“But Abuela’s gone to her room.”

“I mean, my Abuela, your Bisabuela.”

“Oh!”

His eyes lingered on the door to his Tia’s room, not lit light the others though it wasn’t the nursery like what Tia Wanderer used to tell him she lived in before her world died, whatever that meant. Inside wasn’t as big but he happily clambered up onto the large bed before he kicked off his borrowed sandals though looked around curiously.

“So, Dante, when were you born?”

“July 17th…are you going to make me a late birthday present?” he hoped.

Tia Luisa was the first to snort as she pulled the chair to sit down.

“I can do, but first…. If I’m to make something extra special for you, I need to know what you like.”

Dante cocked his head to the sides. “Ghosts. Dead things.”

“….right..” Tia Mirabel looked to Tia Luisa tightly. “why?”

“It’s my gift!” He smiled happily, “I also like food….food is wonderful and…and Abuela Pariah used to sneak me treats when mami wasn’t looking.” He grinned happily, his hands coming to his belly. “Tia Wanderer made me my ruana with my ghosts on. You and her are very talented… her more so but that’s because she’s older than Bisabuela but not as pruney.” He trailed his finger along her bed covers.

Mirabel choked onto her fist, clearly trying not to laugh. “You’re so adorable…” She wheezed.

“I know, Mami always said so.” He puffed his chest up happily. “Do you think Mami will come and pick me up and take us home once she’s back from work?”

The amusement in his Tia’s faces dropped though he didn’t like how they looked to each other.

“We don’t know, sobrino… but I guess we should wait and see. It might take some time… she sounds like she really busy…”

Dante pouted.

“So, tell me more about your friends, I’d love to hear more about them… It sounds like your mother made a lot of friends.”

Dante licked his lips, “they’re my family. Abuela Pariah is amazing! She… she’s like Abuela here, but…but lost her leg, her arm and her eye so…so she had metal ones as well. She and Mami help each other out with that. Tia Wanderer has to help Mami wash her hair…”

“Well, if my sister’s disabled…I’m happy to hear she’s getting help.” There was an odd tone to Tia’s voice but Dante didn’t get it.

“Mami’s fine normally; she goes to the salon to get her hair done properly once a week. She goes to Tia Wanderer when her hair gets into the arms and… and jams up the metal insides. Mami now lets me brush her hair…it so long and smooth and it feels like river of silk…” he smiled fondly. “I like brushing Mami’s hair.”

Tia Luisa moved forwards, moving from the chair to settle on the floor beside the bed.

“How was she, when you last saw her?” Tia Luisa asked.

Dante looked between the two. “Mami’s fine, she left me with Tia Abscond and Bisabuela Fracture while she left for her mission. Tia Rana and Tia Wanderer had to go to Abuela Pariah’s home because Tia Rana brokes some rules and got a time-out to her home for a little while.” At least, that was what Mami had said at the time that he could understand. “she promised me seconds and lots of hugs for when she came back for waiting but..i’m not going to be there…” But he had to hope Mami would find him first… Mami was special.

“hey, Kiddo. I bet your mother will do anything to find you and… we sure as heck want to speak to her…” Tia’s face fell a little.

“Is Mami going to be in trouble?” Dante worried, he didn’t want that! Mami didn’t deserve to be in trouble when all she did was help people.

“No.” both his Tia’s spoke.

Tia Mirabel continued “No…she’s not in trouble at all. We’re just… we miss her… we never got to say goodbye.”

“You didn’t?”

“No.”

Dante moved forwards and gave his Tia a side hug. “I’m sure Mami will this time when we go back home.” Under his arm, his Tia stiffened a little but he didn’t notice before he let go and hugged Tia Luisa’s head, though the bun on her head was very soft, he gave that an extra pat before he yawned.

“Nap time.” He decided, scrawling up to the pillows though his Tia nodded with a sad smile, lying down and opened up her arm so he didn’t hesitate to crawl into her arms and cuddle up.

It didn’t take long before he dropped off again, not waking as Luisa got up and left the two.

Abuela was…not happy. Of all things to happen today, this wasn’t expected and now it left her with a sense of unease with how the family should respond.

Isabela had joined some sort of organisation that’s clearly using her for her gifts. Whether it was by her choice or not, she couldn’t trust a child’s view on the matter either.

There also was the matter that Isabela had also been catastrophically mutilated in her…work. A double amputee. What sort of life did that leave her with now? How could she even use her gift with prostheses? Metal arms?

Abuela knew prostheses from town decades back when an accident had forced a man to have his leg removed, Julieta had healed up the wound afterwards but her gift couldn’t regrow limbs. He walked now with a wooden leg but he was limited as the prostheses wasn’t flexible to allow him the freedom he used to have.

Yet somehow, metal ones were better and clearly she still worked and raised a child with prostheses as well which meant they had to be more…advanced somehow.

Which now led her to another point of concern. Isabela had a child.

Abuela couldn’t deny that this child had a lot of innocence but he had been exposed to a lot of worrying things to consider that normal and… he had no verbal filter. Both a blessing and a curse for them no doubt.

What would he say that would further paint the image of her nieta’s life since she left? What horrors has she been exposed to? The word outside… it was unpredictable and cruel. People with gifts… it made a chilling sense that she’d be taken in for the sake of her abilities.

And the child…

Abuela could only rationalised she had been impregnated for the sake of producing a Magical child. If her gift worked out there, then she had to assume the child would get his gift regardless of he touched the door or not.

If he had a gift now, she needed to know. It was easier to brainwash someone when you’ve raised them from birth. To why he’d think this organisation was his family. He didn’t know any better. They were his entire world.

Yet now he was here. Her heart begged for his sake that the miracle had brought him here in the moment he was snatched from his mother. He was a Madrigal. It made sense that the magic would bring him here if he was in true danger.

But… she felt fear at what that now meant.

If people were after her bisnieto, then Encanto was still at risk.

Abuela didn’t like the notion but… she had to think of the town and of her family in this as well. They had to make sure to keep both safe.

She couldn’t let the boy wander around alone. He had to be with one member of the family at the very least.

“Dolores,” Abuela was the first to break the lingering silence that had fallen now the entirety of her eldest’s side had wandered off a few minutes ago, “if the child was taken, we should assume people are still looking for him.”

Dolores’s eyes widened before sparing a glance to her fiancé. “I’ll keep my ear out.”

Abuela let out a breath of relief, “Thank you. Right now, we don’t let him out of our sights. Someone with him at all times.”

“He should be safer in Casita, so we should get his room set up.” Felix suggested, “Tonight, his door?”

“We shouldn’t do it as a ceremony to the town.” Bruno added as he anxiously fiddled with the hem of his ruana. “We should keep him quiet from them. If someone does get in and someone in the town lets spill that there’s a new Madrigal… then they know where to go.”

“I agree.” Abuela nodded. “We keep visitors at a distance…or we cover his door.”

Mariano lent forwards this time to her surprise. “I can ask my mother to say the child is her great-nephew from downtown if people wonder. We can claim that me and Dolores are…looking after him as to…prepare ourselves for parenthood in advance. With his age discrepancy with the time Isabela left and the clear indication of no births here, no one will think that he’s a Madrigal.”

Abuela straightened up though she favoured his creativity. It would fill any gaps certainly and produced a reason to why there was a new child wandering around the Encanto and Casita. Downtown people were known to be more isolated and not everyone knew everyone down there.

“We would have to be seen in public with him.” Dolores didn’t sound displeased, as she looked to Mariano. “But… we do actually have to ask him to help us maintain that façade as well in public. He’s napping with Mirabel now”

“We’ll get to that after. Right now, we should do a few sweeps of Encanto. Maybe ask a few people to keep an eye out.”

“Tell them I had an…uncertain vision.” Bruno winced “no clear fate but caution is advised to ensure our safety.”

Abuela inhaled deeply. It made sense; the townspeople would get worried if asked but again… they had to have some sense of justification to why they needed to be weary. Bruno would take the heat but he was okay with that.

The town knew he had come back but he hadn’t really ventured out on his own; only with Julieta or Pepa but again, that didn’t mean he was welcomed which…now she saw it pained her to see. She was doing her best to smooth things over still.

She still didn’t understand the whole Goldfish grudge, no matter how many times she tried to talk to Señora Ozma about it. Ozma made it sound like her dear son her sat outside the window with a harpoon to kill that fish.

“Are you sure?” Pepa asked.

“Yes. They won’t take anything less. I’ll… I do a vision anyway to be sure. If…If we need to be more public that something is more apparent…they need to be prepared. I don’t want to be blamed for that.”

Abuela nodded softly, “I wish to be present for that vision, Mijo.”

Bruno nodded but said nothing more.

“Antonio, can your animals help patrol the jungles? Anything unusual, strangers coming in?”

The eight-year old nodded, “I can do. They’re eager for more things to do.”

Abuela nodded, “Tomorrow, we’ll discuss who’s looking after Dante. I’ll need help getting dinner prepped while Julieta’s….processing.” was the simplest way to do it. A simple meal and… no doubt a few unwanted bombshells to wait at dinner when the little boy got talking.

Dante woke up to the cool touches to his nose, his hand moved and flapped it away before another prod at his belly.

Begrudgingly, he cracked open a glowing blue eye to see Dahlya standing at the bedside looking happy to see him.

“Tia?” He looked down to see his Tia still fast asleep, her glasses wonky and she was snoring.

‘Sleepy head’ Dahlya whispered, reaching forwards and pulled off her glasses before putting them on herself.

They dipped through her nose though Dante giggled though wiggled free from her arms. “don’t break those… I don’t wanna get in trouble if they break.”

Dahlya nose scrunched up though they both jumped as the door opened suddenly before he saw it was only Tia Luisa. He knew she couldn’t see Dahlya though the glasses floating in the air before he reached forwards and pulled it from his sister’s face and put it on the bed then innocently smiled.

“Is it food time yet, Tia?”

12 notes · View notes