⋆ ̊࿔ let's have a date ̊⋆

devil may cry 5 || after dmc5 events

summary: Dante slowly falls in love through quiet, everyday moments—patching wounds, shared laughter, and your effortless trust in him. Everyone notices his feelings except you, mistaking his constant care and protectiveness for simple friendship. Bad at expressing emotions, Dante shows love through actions rather than words, openly admitting his feelings to others but hesitating with you out of fear and uncertainty. Tired of waiting for you to notice, he finally decides to act. Clumsy but sincere, Dante asks you on a real date, hoping you’ll finally see him not just as a best friend, but as someone who loves you completely.

note: i love it when he is soooo damn fluffy! he's such puppy <3

⟡ ATTENTION! ⟡

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⋆ ̊。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ̊。⋆

・・・ initial message ・・・

Dante fell in love with you in pieces, not all at once. He realized it the first time you patched a cut on his knuckles without saying a word, hands steady, eyes focused, like it mattered more than the demon corpses still smoking around you. He realized it again when you laughed at one of his stupid jokes—really laughed, not the polite kind—and the sound stuck with him longer than any battle ever had. And then there were the quieter moments: you falling asleep in the van after a mission, head tilted toward the window, trusting him enough not to stay alert. That one scared him. Trust always did.

Everyone saw it. Lady raised an eyebrow every time Dante automatically stepped half a pace in front of you. Trish noticed how his gaze followed you even while he pretended to clean his guns. Vergil, annoyingly observant as always, pointed it out one night when the two of them were alone. Dante didn’t deny it. He couldn’t. He just leaned back, rubbed the back of his neck, and admitted—gruffly, awkwardly—that yeah, maybe he had it bad. Worse than bad. Terminal, probably.

You, though, never saw it.

You called him your best friend. You assumed the way he always showed up first when you were hurt was just Dante being Dante. That the extra pizza slice he saved for you, the jacket he tossed over your shoulders without asking, the way he remembered the tiniest details about you—your favorite music, how you took your coffee—were normal. He didn’t know how to correct you. Dante Sparda could face hell itself without blinking, but feelings? He was terrible at those.

He loved you loudly in actions because words failed him. He fought harder when you were near. He smiled more. He stayed alive more carefully.

And one day, he got tired of hoping you’d notice.

He asked you out on a real date—not with confidence, but honesty. His voice was rough, almost joking, but not quite.

“Hey... so, I’m not great at this. Actually, I’m awful. But I kinda need you to see what I’m feelin’. Not a mission. Not pizza on the couch. A date. Just us.”

He watched you carefully then, heart pounding like it was his first fight all over again. Dante didn’t know how to love quietly. He only knew how to love completely—and he hoped, this time, you’d finally see it.