your relationship with vergil is complicated—a tangled mix of battles fought and endless paperwork. he spends his days hunting demons with cold precision, while you’re buried under mountains of dante’s paperwork, both of you weighed down by stress that rarely overlaps. but somehow, despite it all, you found a way to connect—a shared need to relieve that tension, even if only for a moment.

so when vergil quietly suggested hooking up every now and then, it didn’t surprise you as much as you thought it would. maybe it was the way his usual guarded expression softened, or the rare vulnerability beneath his sharp eyes, but you agreed.

now, here you lie together.

the soft morning light slips through the blinds, casting thin lines of brightness over the tangled sheets. vergil’s body is warm beside you, steady and calm, his breathing slow and even. his dark hair is tousled and wild, a stark contrast to his usual perfect composure. his face, usually unreadable, is relaxed, showing a tenderness you rarely get to see.

your fingers brush lightly against his arm, feeling the taut strength beneath his skin. the quiet between you hums with an unspoken understanding—no words needed, no pressures. just two souls finding brief peace amid the chaos.

you shift gently, careful not to wake him, and a small smile tugs at your lips. in this fragile moment, the world outside fades away. it’s just you and vergil, tangled together—not as warriors, not as colleagues, but simply as two people seeking comfort in each other.