13 Works by sootandshadow
Listing Works
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Summary
Sleep is the one thing that evades them both. He can tell by the darkening circles under Dante’s eyes that his brother suffers as he does, uneasy and unable to properly let his guard down, but Vergil is marginally confident they’ll get over this too. They’ve graduated to being in the same room together for an extended period of time without actively trying to kill each other, after all. All things considered, they’re doing pretty well for two half-demons who barely know each other. Vergil has even stopped flinching at sudden noises.
Naturally, this is the perfect time for the local demon population to clue in that there are two Sparda-sired demons living under the same roof, and take that information as an invitation to attack.
Series
- Part 2 of you're like an anchor on my soul
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Summary
It had started in the days after he’d finished dealing with the lingering after-effects of the Qliphoth, this strange, deep unpleasantness in the very recesses of his soul that Nero just can’t seem to shake. At first, he thought he’d just needed time, to process his feelings or whatever about the colossal upheaval of his life that had come from Urizen and his associated revelations. Or maybe he’d just needed more space, having spent too long in that cramped van with his newest chain-smoking partner in crime. Maybe he just had a really nasty stomach ache from living off canned soup and shitty bread for a month.
But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into a month, Nero was starting to get the feeling that there was more to this than just the emotional fallout of the Qliphoth Incident.
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They fall together, through an inky darkness as black as a void, before they are deposited into what appears to be a shallow stream at the bottom of the portal. Like mirror images, they both grab their respective amulets and make a break for their father’s sword, and for a split second Dante tastes the bitterness of defeat as he sees Vergil’s fingers reach the hilt a heartbeat before his do.
Only, instead of grasping onto it, Vergil’s fingers slip straight through, like he’s just tried to grab onto air. It surprises him as much as it does Dante, and before either of them can change their course the two of them collide. For all that the impact doesn’t hurt, it still knocks Dante flat on his backside with a muted splash into water that is suddenly completely still, like it’s been frozen in time. Vergil, too, staggers backward, but manages to stay upright if only by sheer force of will. The confused outrage on Vergil’s face would be more amusing if Dante wasn’t equally as irritated by this sudden deception— not that he’s about to let Vergil in on that one, though.
“Looks like our dear old dad had one final trick up his sleeve, huh,” Dante says, plastering a wide grin on his face as he hauls himself to his feet.
Series
- Part 1 of you're like an anchor on my soul
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Summary
Dante turns to reach for the Devil Sword Sparda, only to find the way forward is suddenly blocked. Something hard and metallic hooks into the meat of his shoulder, a heavy bar pressing against his chest, stopping his movement if only out of sheer novelty. Dante feels his jaw clench so tightly he swears he can hear his teeth creaking as he follows what turns out to be the line of V’s cane back down to its wielder. He knows how he looks when he feels like this, when dark desires stir hotly in his blood and darker thoughts swirl dangerously in his head. He knows, too, that the look he fixes V is nothing short of murderous, because V is interfering yet again in Dante’s business with his family.
Yet V does not so much as step back, instead putting even firmer pressure on Dante’s chest as though this measly chunk of steel is going to stop Dante from going anywhere.
Dante opens his mouth to make some sort of snide comment, but V beats him to the punch.
“You are ill-equipped to fight him as you are, and you cannot afford another mistake. Calm down and centre yourself. Somehow, I do not think Urizen will toss your body down here to recuperate a second time.”
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Close my eyes (I can’t erase you) by sootandshadow for laire (laireshi)
Fandoms: Devil May Cry
09 Sep 2019
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With two of his familiars back at his side and their contracts renewed, black magic pouring like ink into the cracks and gorges in his skin where Malphas had ripped the binding magic out, there is only one more he must reclaim. Trepidation stirs beneath V’s skin, soft as the faintest wind through the trees, like the ghost of a warning, as he follows the phantom chain that binds them together. This last beast is his, certainly, but the memory of its taming still lingers behind his closed eyelids, a memory within a memory — a living nightmare. Though V has faced other foes of comparable size and strength, none can compare to the creature that feeds on his deepest, darkest fears.
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Saddle Tramp by sootandshadow for Heading2DanVer (Cerberus_Ablaze)
Fandoms: Devil May Cry
11 Aug 2019
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Almost everything got better with time: good leather, fine cheeses, good whisky, and, incidentally, Nero’s ability to fuck him six ways to Sunday while barely breaking a sweat.
Series
- Part 3 of You Can Leave Your Hat On
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Baby, you could be the death of me by sootandshadow for Starkangejr
Fandoms: DmC: Devil May Cry
04 Aug 2019
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Vergil’s watching him again; hell, so is half of his brother’s collection of computer-savvy staff, but they don’t warrant Dante’s attention the way Vergil does. A month ago, he would have sneered at anyone who stared at him like this, daring them to act on their unconcealed lust even as his demonic instincts prickled with a hostile wariness. He might have even taken a few of the braver folks to bed with him, to help scratch that itch for a little while.
Now though? Now he has bigger fish to fry than the average drooling onlooker.
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House arrest is the absolute worst.
Nero buries his face in the cushion with a thoroughly disgruntled noise, trying, for what feels like the hundredth time that evening, to get comfortable. It’s 7 p.m. and he should be out on patrol, taking his bike for a spin around the streets in search of rakshasa or infernal predators or any other hellspawn that felt the need to venture into the mundane world. There’s always something out there that needs an ass-kicking, and Nero’s never been one to shy away from dishing out beatdowns like candy at Halloween.
But no, instead Nero is here, face first on Dante’s couch, bemoaning his fate, because he has to do as he’s told. (And honestly? Fuck these boundaries and the demon bike they rode in on.)
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He quickly scans the room for any signs of his brother, and isn’t disappointed when he spots him almost immediately. Vergil, for all that he always complains about how noisy Dante is when he’s there, has his headphones on, eyes skimming the pages of a novel that probably weighs about as much as Dante’s dumbbell set. He’s seated on the bed — his bed, Dante notes with the tiniest flush of pleasure — legs crossed neatly in front of him and back to the wall. But none of that is what holds his attention. No, what makes the straps of his overnight bag slip through his fingers is what Vergil’s wearing.
A faded, maroon sweatshirt covers whatever nice shirt he has underneath, its elbows badly patched with mismatched fabric and its cuffs with fraying edges. He has the sleeves pulled up so his forearms are visible, pale skin made even paler by the colour of the fabric. It’s untidy in a way that the rest of him is immaculate, oversized and looking even more worn out when paired with his fitted trousers. In short, it seems completely out of place on him, and there’s a really good reason for that.
See, that sweatshirt is Dante’s.
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Studying his nails with more interest than they warrant, V says in a tone that brooks no argument, “I intend to come with you.”
“You?” The incredulity is expected, and V intends to pay it no mind. That is, of course, until Dante follows it up with, “No offense, but you’re a little…” The devil hunter’s grin is tight and mocking around the edges as he gestures with his hand to the full length of V’s body. He seems intent on insulting V as much as possible, despite the short time they’ve spent together, no doubt trying to locate his soft spots and dig blunt fingernails in as deeply as he can.
In Dante’s territory, there is little V can do about such obvious discourtesy. Even so, he does not intend to take it lying down.
V finds himself smiling with a bit more teeth than necessary, voice dropping to a low, dangerous rasp. “I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”
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But it’s not that part that unsettles him. No, it’s the fact that when V meets his eyes Nero feels like he’s staring at a fellow predator, like V is... appraising all those sharp and dangerous parts of him. And sometimes, when his lips twitch upwards in a ghost of a smile, Nero almost thinks that V is pleased with what he sees there.
Now, though, he just looks confused, a faint wrinkle to his brow and his head tilted not entirely unlike the avian creature he carts around with him. There’s nothing about his expression that suggests he even heard Nero’s question, which only serves to ratchet his irritation up another notch. He’s about to tell him to take a picture when V actually sets his book aside to properly engage him, his eyes drawn to something on Nero’s--
Oh. Aw shit
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Cowboy Up by sootandshadow for subcognition (subcognito), Cerberus_Ablaze
Fandoms: Devil May Cry
30 May 2019
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Despite how much he enjoys the creature comforts of a warm, soft bed, Dante can’t help but appreciate some of the benefits of roughing it with his brother; namely, the fact that there’s not a soul out here besides Vergil to judge him. Not that he’s doing anything worth being judged of course, and he certainly isn’t a man to pass up an audience (willing or otherwise), but this time he’s got something a little more intimate in mind. It's a private show, for one man and one man only.
Series
- Part 2 of You Can Leave Your Hat On
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Summary
The town is the same as ever, a cheerfully crafted facade of finely built wooden parapets hiding aging buildings and the roughness of the frontier. Ranching was good in these parts at least, and though the railroad had yet to make it this far Red Grave wasn’t the wildest town this far south. It was just normal, in the way that any settlement built on the backs of cattlemen in the dust and the heat could be considered “normal.” Folks here were the friendly, hard-working sort, and certainly didn’t take too kindly to anyone interested in causing trouble. Word on the street was they even had a proper jailhouse now.
Perhaps it was better for both Sparda brothers that Vergil returned home a partner in his brother’s bounty hunts and not the target of them.
[ An indulgent PWP ft. some Wild West Shenanigans and Dante getting hot when his brother fires his gun. ;D ]
Series
- Part 1 of You Can Leave Your Hat On