Safe In Your Skin

Safe in Your Skin

Vergil/Reader

Vergil stands stock still, calculating and cold to anyone else in the world but you. 

Were you foolish for coming closer, or did you know him better than he knew himself. The world was falling apart around the two of you and it grew more hostile as dark gusts and white flashes of death-bleached lightning scattered dangerously near. 

He could make it all go away but a man who’s never hesitated believes stopping this relentless turmoil admits defeat through his entire body.

Why won’t you run? Why won’t you leave? 

Don’t you know being loyal to one is being disloyal to the rest of the world, including you? 

He’s supposed to be better than this, more than this fallen crown and burned child who still lives in that house fire. 

This isn’t what he wanted and surely this couldn’t be your fantasy. 

Vergil hasn’t moved and it’s killing him the way a shark cannot stop navigating the waters where it is the apex creature. 

Your brows are furrowed lightly with this thinly laced concern and doe eyes that only see him. 

Stop it. Just stop it. 

He wants you to leave him in this crumbling palace he’s made of his mind. 

He’s not supposed to love you. 

You’re so close to him that if it weren’t for the cold air from his ragged breaths concealed in his vessel, he might have been a statue. 

“Vergil…” 

Don’t touch him. Don’t make him break. 

Your hands just hover millimeters away from his covered skin and make it up from his arms to his neck, fingers glancing to almost caress his face. 

You know who he is, what he is. He’s not untouchable and trying to intimidate. 

Vergil is afraid. Not of you, but the fact that you aren’t of him. 

“It’s going to be okay.” Your lips sing it so quietly only his veins can hear it, blood pumping furiously into his heart. 

He’s blue and frigid, but you know better. He laments how you do. 

Truthfully, he’s a flame, so intense it’s the color of sapphire, trapped in a glass body that can’t take anymore. 

Your skin against his makes him want to lash out, to take the blade and cut you down like all the demons that have come too near. 

But it’s damning. He couldn’t conjure that desire because it’s the opposite of what he wants. 

You’ve always wanted to give him what he wants, nose bumping against his as you get him to tilt his proud disposition and let him be eye-to-eye with what he truly deserves. 

Those ice blues shatter like the rest of him as his arms wrapped around you, your palm coming to cradle the back of his head, fingers running through winter hair. 

I want a priest to look at my non-believer ass and decide to make me his.

Like he'd look at the sigils and the things I wear but see the look in my eyes when I talk to him and know he has power over me.

When no one's around he'd take me by the chin and just give me a smug look. "A lost little lamb still craves the forbidden fruit, I see." He'd tease.

I want him to make be his disciple. Not to lead me to God, but to belong to him. He is the only God I need and no other shall come before him. Not even the mighty Lord above could take me from him.

⛧~⛧~⛧~⛧~⛧~⛧~⛧~⛧~⛧~⛧~⛧~⛧~⛧~⛧~⛧~⛧

Fr

I'll post about RE soon. 😭

Please tell me you get it.

Dmc3 - Dante modded outfits