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bluecherrypawn · 15 days ago

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Devils May be Cats? Ao3Ver.

Devil May Cry... A Lot [MasterList]

Chapter 3 ✧₊‧˚⁀➷ Chapter 4

It had been a week since the cats showed up—and since that first package arrived.

Since then, two more boxes had come, both just as bizarre. One had more Devil May Cry merch: posters, keychains, collector’s pins, and even a replica of the Rebellion sword made of actual metal. That one shocked you a lot with how realistic it was. It’s a good thing the edges were dull. You have kitties around the house! You don’t want them getting hurt by it... The second box? A brand new, unopened PlayStation 5 with a download code for Devil May Cry 5: Special Edition. Which is very convenient now, as you only have to wait for Devil May Cry 4.

You weren’t complaining. But you were starting to think your dad had a weird sense of timing. Today, you’d finally finished Devil May Cry 3: Special Edition. And now? Now, you were crying. Ugly crying. “I didn’t know it would be this sad!” you wailed, clutching a fuzzy blanket in one hand and two very patient cats in the other. “He just—he stabbed him! And then—” you hiccupped. “And he still tried to save him! Oh my God, they’re such messed-up brothers!”

The one sat tucked against your hip, whom you’d officially dub “Vergil” after the brooding plushie, wore an eternally grumpy expression. He didn’t struggle, even though your arm was draped around him. Occasionally, his tail flicked in mild judgment. The one mushed under your chin, “Dante,” purring despite the teardrops soaking into his fur. He didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he leaned in more when your sobs hit their peak.

“I just—why didn’t they talk to each other?” you sniffled. “Why is everything in this franchise emotional damage in leather pants?!” Vergil made a low, irritated mrrrrow as if he resented being grouped in with “emotional damage.” You blinked at him through tears. “I know, I know, you’re tough. But you have issues, my dude. You need therapy.” If a cat could look personally offended, this one absolutely did. As weird as it is talking to your cats like they’re the actual characters, it is so funny how they seemingly embraced the role and how often they keep meowing at you when you play or talk about DMC.

Dante yawned and gave your hand a comforting lick. You wiped your face with your sleeve. “Anyway, if anyone ever hurt you guys, I’d kill them. Just saying.” There was a pause. There was no response to that. Just the warmth of the little bodies pressed against you and the low hum of the TV menu looping in the background. Eventually, the sobs ebbed into sniffles, and the sniffles into soft, wet sighs. You leaned back, still bundled in your blanket, and closed your eyes. The cats stayed.

Then, quietly, a soft thud from somewhere deeper in the house. You froze. The cats went rigid, too, ears flicking toward the sound. Another thud. You sat up straighter. That tired feeling disappeared. “...Is someone here?” Vergil leaped from the couch, ready to throw paws with a ghost. Dante followed, bristling, tail low. You crept toward the hallway, peeking around the corner—and stopped.

The culprit? One of the empty shipping boxes tipped over onto its side. Its flaps fluttered lazily in the breeze from the cracked kitchen window. You exhaled. “Oh my God, it’s cardboard. I thought it was a demon or something.” Dante sauntered over and immediately climbed inside the box like he owned it, tail flicking triumphantly. Vergil sat beside it and stared as if trying to mentally will it to combust. You gave both of them a look. “You guys seriously need to stop acting like you’re cursed with tragic backstories.”

Vergil sneezed and walked off. Dante flopped inside the box, purring like he’d found his new throne. You returned to the couch, your tissues, and your blanket, grumbling softly. “I need to sleep before I play DMC 4. I don’t have it yet, but from what I’ve seen on the internet, there’s a new character in it. If this next guy is tragic too, I’m suing.”

You were asleep not long after that, still half-curled around the purring white fluffball on your chest. Your breathing evened out. The living room dimmed as the sun dipped below the trees outside. Vergil sat silently and still at the foot of the bed, watching you. He didn’t understand you. Not fully. You didn’t know who they were. You didn’t know what you were touching when you said you’d “kill for them.” And yet, you—this soft, tearful, chaotic human—you held them like they were precious. Like they mattered. Fiction or not.

Dante stirred on your chest, cracking open one eye. “She cries for us,” he murmured. Vergil didn’t answer right away. His gaze lingered on the damp spot on your shirt where tears had soaked through. “She grieves for fiction,” he said at last. “Doesn’t feel fake.” Silence again. Then a rustle outside the window. Barely a whisper, but enough. Vergil’s ears twitched. He turned his head slightly. Dante lifted his head, more alert now, but didn’t move. “What is it?” “Something.” Vergil narrowed his eyes. “Not here yet. But moving closer.” Dante sighed, settling back down. “Guess we’ll see soon enough.”

The next morning, you decided to finally leave the house. After being so wrapped up in demon-slaying melodrama and cat cuddles for a week, it felt weird. You needed groceries. And maybe sunlight. “Alright, boys, behave while I’m gone,” you said, grabbing your bag and keys. Dante meowed from his perch on the stairs. Vergil didn’t acknowledge you, which you were starting to take as his love language with his nonchalant ass. When the door shut behind you, the house fell quiet.

Vergil immediately leaped to the window, eyes scanning the empty street beyond. He sat there for a while, unmoving.

Watching.

Waiting.

Somewhere in the distance, something moved. It’s too subtle for the human eye. But not for his. Dante lay sprawled across the top of the couch, tail twitching. “Whatever it is,” he said, “it doesn’t feel like a threat.” Vergil replied, “That doesn’t make it harmless,” his voice low. Dante rolled to his side, purring softly. “Or maybe it’s just company.” Vergil didn’t respond. But he didn’t look away.

When you returned, arms full of groceries and a guilty pack of strawberries, you were back to humming the Devil May Cry 3 theme under your breath. You didn’t think you would get hooked on Devil May Cry in just a week, but life isn’t as dull as it was back then, especially with the cats. You pushed open the door, letting the late afternoon light flood in. “I come bearing snacks and emotional instability,” you announced. The cats came trotting out like you were Santa Claus. You unloaded everything in the kitchen, talking to them like usual, not even noticing how natural it had become.

Later, as you sat with a snack and opened your phone, you scrolled through DMC fan compilations. After playing Devil May Cry 1, your ‘for you page’ has been flooded with DMC content. One in particular caught your eye: “Vergil being a sad but hot disaster for 7 minutes straight.” You couldn’t help it. You laughed. “This is literally you,” you told the moody cat, pointing at the screen. He looked up at you like you had personally insulted his soul. “You even frown the same way!”

Dante hopped onto your lap, tail curling as he stared at the screen. “And this,” you pointed at Dante’s flashy combat montage, “This is your ego in action. Look at that. You would totally do a triple flip and then pose like that.” Dante meowed proudly. You swore it sounded smug. You looked at the two of them, now curled up on either side of you. “Y’know,” you murmured, stroking Dante’s head, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were them for real.” They didn’t move.

You just smiled to yourself.

A beat of silence passed, broken only by the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional purr from Dante. The sunlight through the windows had turned a mellow gold, stretching warm and lazy across the living room floor. You leaned back with a sigh, your phone slipping from your hand to rest on your chest. You let your eyes close briefly, fingers moving lazily, brushing through Dante’s fur. “You guys are weirdly comforting,” you whispered. “You don’t judge. You don’t tell me I’m wasting time. You just… hang out.” Vergil’s ear twitched but didn’t move from his perch at your side.

Another pause. This one is quieter. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a while.” For a moment, everything stilled. Then, a soft chirrup from Dante. It’s not quite a meow—more like acknowledgment. Maybe agreement. You cracked a sleepy grin. “Yeah. You too.”

After dinner and dishes—and a half-hearted attempt at folding laundry that ended in a pile of shirts and two cats using them as beds—you eventually wandered into your bedroom, trailing both cats behind you like ducklings. Vergil leaped up to his usual corner near the window, stretching with practiced grace before curling into a loaf. Dante sprawled across the foot of your bed like a protective lion. You barely noticed how your movements had changed over the week—how you now navigated your space with an unconscious awareness of your feline roommates.

You tucked yourself in and glanced toward them. “I’ve had you cooped up here at home for some time now,” you said softly. “I’m gonna take you guys out to the park tomorrow.” Dante flicked his tail in what you assumed was solidarity. You turned over and closed your eyes, the sound of purring lulling you into sleep.

The room had quieted. She was asleep—deeply this time. Her breathing was slow and even, the rise and fall of her back barely disturbing the blanket she had pulled halfway up. Vergil sat near the windowsill at first, keeping watch. The moonlight crept across the floor in silver strips. Dante was already curled at the foot of the bed, tail twitching in little bursts, caught in some dream that likely involved tuna, sunbeams, or swordplay. “She trusts us,” Vergil murmured. Dante’s ears flicked. “Mhm. I noticed.”

“She names us after ourselves. Talks to us like we belong here.”

“Well… maybe we do.” Dante rolled lazily onto his back, stretching until his paws pointed to the ceiling. “Better than the last time we were stuck somewhere.” Vergil’s gaze lingered on her sleeping face. Her arm twitched slightly in her sleep, reaching for the pillow, maybe, or reacting to a dream. “She is… unaware,” he said after a long pause. “Blissfully,” Dante replied. “Don’t wreck it.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

Silence again. Then, the soft sound of paws landing on a mattress. Vergil made his way toward the head of the bed, moving like a shadow, graceful and deliberate. He paused by her shoulder, studying her for a long beat. Then, with the barest sigh, he settled down on the pillow next to her head, his flank pressed lightly against her hair. “Soft,” he muttered under his breath, ears flicking once. Dante let out a pleased trill of amusement. “Oh no, you’re turning into a lap cat.” “Shut up.”

The moon climbed higher. Outside, the wind rustled the trees. Inside, three souls, one human and two not quite slept in the same rhythm.

And for that moment, everything was quiet. Everything was still.

And no one was alone for the first time in a long, long while.

The sun hadn’t fully risen when you stirred. The soft pink glow of dawn filtered through the curtains, brushing over your bed like a sleepy promise. You felt warmth pressed up on your legs—Dante, as usual, curled into the crook of your knees and a familiar weight by your head, where Vergil had apparently claimed your pillow in the night. You didn’t move right away. Instead, you breathed in the comfort of the moment: the gentle purrs, the silence of the early morning, the way your room felt safe in a way it hadn’t in a long time.

You whispered to no one in particular, “I think I’m actually happy.” A meow, soft, and barely audible, answered you. You weren’t sure which cat it came from, but it felt like an agreement.

You hadn’t been to the park in months. It was one of those quieter corners of town, visited mainly by dog walkers, joggers, or the occasional older couple feeding ducks at the pond. It was precisely the quiet space you’d hoped it would be when you stuffed the boys into their respective carriers. You weren’t sure why you expected Vergil to accept the indignity of a cat backpack, but at least Dante didn’t complain. Much. Both cats immediately stretched in the sunlight when you finally let them out onto the blanket you brought.

Dante rolled onto his back and kicked at the air, delighted by the smell of fresh grass. Vergil stalked the perimeter of your picnic blanket like he was assessing the terrain of a future battlefield. You laughed and sipped your iced coffee, flipping through a paperback novel you had no plans to finish. It wasn’t about reading. It was about being here, with them under the sun, just existing.

Some kids passed by. One pointed. “Look at that one! He looks so serious!” You followed the kid’s finger to Vergil, who glared at a goose. “Yeah,” you called out to the kid with a grin. “He’s very philosophical.” The mother chuckled and led the kids away. Dante meowed once, pleased with the attention. Eventually, Vergil came to sit beside you again, curling up with his back to the rest of the park like he couldn’t be bothered. You scratched behind his ears.

“You’re more of a diva than I thought,” you muttered.

He didn’t argue.

The breeze picked up a little, rustling the trees overhead. You finished your iced coffee, then leaned back on your elbows, sunglasses slipping slightly down your nose as you watched Dante stalk a particularly crunchy leaf with exaggerated stealth. You giggled. “Go on, buddy,” you said, waving him off. “Have your little adventure. Just don’t pick a fight with a squirrel.” Dante gave you a chirpy meow, his equivalent of “I got this,” and took off across the grass, tail high. You shook your head and turned to Vergil, who remained planted beside you, fur rippling ever so slightly in the wind.

Vergil hadn’t moved much, but his ear would occasionally twitch. Once or twice, he blinked slowly, cat talk for “I’m tolerating you.” You leaned back on your elbows and glanced at the other carrier. “You think Dante’ll come back?” Vergil made a low sound in his throat, somewhere between disinterest and vague disdain. You snorted. “Yeah, fair.”

“You really don’t like crowds, huh?” you asked softly, offering him a finger. He looked at it like it was a negotiation, then grudgingly, he was convinced and lowered his head and bumped it once against your knuckle. You smiled. “That’s a yes.” The two of you sat together in silence after that. Just the wind, the birds, and the occasional distant bark of a dog that never got too close. You pet Vergil behind the ears while reading the same paragraph of your book repeatedly, more focused on his rhythmic purring than any actual plot.

Dante had taken off the moment you’d given him the go-to wander off. At first, he rolled around in the grass, chased a butterfly that he had missed by several inches, and tried to swipe at a toddler’s juice box before you called him off. Eventually, he wandered toward a wooded edge of the park, where the trees offered shade and the smells were richer. He stopped suddenly. Two figures approached from between the trees. Cats like him, but not. The first was gold-furred, sleek, and impossibly elegant, with eyes that gleamed like amber lightning. The second had a darker furr, leaner, mismatched eyes and a low-slung posture that screamed, “Don’t mess with me.” Dante’s ears twitched. His tail flicked in disbelief. “No way.” The golden one narrowed her eyes. “...Dante?”

“Trish?” The scrappy one stepped forward, squinting. “What the hell—Dante?!” “Lady!” Dante trotted closer, fur bristling with relief and giddy disbelief. “You’re cats. You’re actually cats.” Lady tilted her head. “You’re one to talk.” Trish walked a slow circle around him. “This is... not how I imagined seeing you again.”

“Same. Except maybe with more limbs and less fur.” Lady narrowed her eyes. “Where the hell have you been? One minute, you’re diving into the Underworld with Vergil, and now you’re... purring?” “Okay, yeah, long story.” Dante plopped down, tail twitching. “You might want to sit for this.” They didn’t. “Fine. Look. Something happened when we closed the Qliphoth. Vergil and I didn’t come back. At least, not to our world. We landed here. Earth, technically, but like... someone-else’s-fictional-universe Earth.”

Lady blinked. “You mean, like... a different dimension?” “Sure. Multiverse. Timeline hiccup. Plot device. I don’t know.” Trish’s brows furrowed. “And this world... thinks we’re fictional?” “Yeah. We’re game characters here. Pop culture icons. People buy our merch. Posters, figures, body pillows—don’t ask.” Lady groaned. “You’re serious.” With a smile, he quipped. “I’ve been living with a girl who has no idea we’re real. She just thinks we’re cats with issues.” Trish laughed. “Well, she’s not wrong.”

Dante smirked. “I mean, it’s not bad. She feeds us, plays the games, cries over our tragic backstories. Vergil’s got a whole fanbase worshiping his brooding.” Lady muttered, “The world really is upside-down.” “But you remember everything?” Trish asked. “The Underworld? The fight? Everything before?”

“Clear as day. And I’ve been trying to figure out how we got here ever since.” Trish and Lady exchanged a look, one of shared, silent resolve. Lady sighed. “Guess we’re part of this now.” Dante tilted his head. “Wait... when did you guys show up?” Trish’s gaze turned distant. “About a week ago. Woke up in an alley. We’ve tried to make sense of it since looking for whoever turned us into cats.” Lady stretched, claws glinting in the sun. “And running around to see if we’d run to any of the crew.”

“Well, congratulations,” Dante said with a grin. “You found the pretty one.”

Lady flicked her tail against his nose. “We found the loud one.”

You were lying on your stomach, your phone held above the grass, as you scrolled through a DMC subreddit. Vergil remained beside you, unmoving, stoic as ever, except for the way he kept his tail barely touching your ankle like a tether. You sighed contentedly. “Think I’m gonna bring you guys here more often. You’re calmer out here.” Vergil blinked slowly in response. You smiled. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get mushy.” You glanced toward the treeline. No Dante. You sat up. “Okay, where is he?” As you were about to call for him, you spotted a flash of white trotting toward you through the grass. And he wasn’t alone.

Two cats followed in his wake, one gold, one dark. Both had a presence that made them look too poised for the average stray. “Huh,” you murmured. “New friends?” Vergil’s ears flicked. The three cats regrouped at the edge of your blanket. Dante looked smug. The newcomers stared at you with something unreadable in their eyes. You smiled and held out your hand. “Hey there.” Trish tilted her head. Lady narrowed her eyes. Neither moved. Dante meowed once.

And you, still blissfully unaware of the gathering storm, just chuckled and patted the blanket. “I guess I’m collecting strays now.” Vergil let out a sigh that sounded far too human.

A/N: I like to think that whenever Dante and Vergil are left alone they talk about all the stuff that's happened to them especially after seeing the human they're with play the games.

#dmc dante #dmc vergil #dmc lady #dmc trish #dante x reader #devil may cry #vergil x reader

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