Liv knew that this was a really bad idea. Like, really bad . Phenomenally bad. She'd made fun of people for doing exactly what she was planning on doing in the past. Had warned her friends that they'd be making a big mistake - huge - by doing this exact thing. But was that going to stop her?
Absolutely not.
It all stemmed from an insecurity of Vergil's. In a moment of weakness (the only, if he had anything to say about it) after some vigorous lovemaking, Vergil had idly traced shapes into your skin. "Possessive, much?" Liv had asked with a teasing grin when it dawned on her that those lazy shapes were in fact the crisp letters that made up his name. Curled into his side and luxuriating in the steady beat of his heart as it rocked her to sleep, she hadn't expected the vulnerability in his answer, confided so softly in her ear:
"As a child, I had to write my name on things to make them truly mine."
And fuck Liv sideways if that hadn't pulled on her heart strings. So the next day she had put in an order online, simultaneously flustered and completely self-assured in the decision when she brought Vergil her bounty. He hadn't known what to make of the small motor as he lifted it out of the box until he came across the needles and the ink.
He knew it was just as bad of an idea as she did. At first, he refused. He loved Liv just the way she was - smooth skin free of blemishes with the exception of a freckle or scar here and there. Liv were not a book, he did not need to write his name on her to keep his brother at bay. She were already his.
But Liv was nothing if not persistent. She wanted Vergil to write his name on her skin.
It started with suggestions over the course of several weeks of where he could place it, but Vergil always had a reason to shut down her suggestions. Her wrist? Too visible. Her ass? Too undignified. Her bicep? Too visible, again.
"What about my hipbone?" Liv asked as she pulled down on a belt loop and drew her jeans off of the smooth canvas there. "It's easy to cover up, so no one will see it unless I want them to."
Vergil's head tilted the slightest bit in consideration, his eyes hungrily glued to her hip. He still was not completely comfortable with the idea, but he had to admit that it held a certain appeal. Would he brush his thumb over the ink once it had healed into the soft skin of Liv's hip, feeling the ink pressing up from beneath the rest of her flesh as he held her closer in a moment of passion? Yes, the idea was very appealing.
"You getting a tattoo?" Dante asked as he plopped into his seat by the phone.
"Thinking about it," Liv answered, releasing the belt loop so that her skin was hidden once more.
"Hip bone, huh?" he whistled, cheekily. "Sexy but discreet. It'd suit you."
It was the wink that Dante sent Liv's way that pushed Vergil over the edge. He stopped beside her on his way to their shared room, his voice bristling when he told her to pick a different spot. Though his volume was low, his message was clear: a spot Dante wouldn't see; one that had nothing to do with him.
Days later, Liv made her decision: "My ribs." She lifted her left arm, raising both her shirt and bra strap from the spot she'd picked. Vergil had been about to protest, but she was quick to cut him off, "I know that rib tattoos are painful, but I have a high pain tolerance, -" she wouldn't have lasted long in this line of work if she didn't, "-no one will see it if I don't want them to, and it'll always be close to my heart."
When he could see that she really, truly meant it - Liv wanted him to write his name on her and she wanted it to be on her ribs, he acquiesced.
Not one to do anything half-assed, Vergil bought the necessary materials that the kit Liv had bought lacked. At night, after the shop had fallen silent, he would assemble the machine and practice scratching lines and curves into the skins of the oranges and bananas that Dante kept in the kitchen at Nero's insistence. It took weeks for him to get a feel for the machinery, to do the necessary research, and to watch the handful of videos Liv had sent his way.
He wanted to make sure that he did right by her.
On the day, Vergil rolled up his shirtsleeves and donned black, latex gloves. Alcohol wipes cleansed the spot along Liv's ribs before he went over it with a fresh, disposable razor to make sure that the skin was prepped. He marked the general area with a highlighter while Liv's arm was relaxed at her side so he could be sure that the tattoo would rest where she wanted it to. The better part of an hour was spent drawing his name onto her left ribcage in sharpie, wiping it off, and starting over again until they were both satisfied with the placement and size, and he with the penmanship.
His outline was surprisingly straight, but each line was picked up in weird places and a couple of them were blown out. Despite only using black ink, his shading between the thicker downstrokes of each letter were uneven throughout. Neither of them would know the real damage until it was fully healed in two-ish weeks.
Liv didn't need to look at it in the mirror to know that she loved it, but she looked anyway - marveling at the way the black ink stood out from the rest of her skin. A shiver crept up her spine at the sight of his script etched into the skin over her heart.
"I guess this means I'm yours now, huh?" Her words were meant to tease, but they came out too breathily and the smile donning her lips was more wondrous than vexing.
I have a twin brother, sir. We fight over things often, so I have to write my name on things to make them truly mine.
He brushed his fingers over the sensitive skin below the script, his gaze reverent; lips curved in a gentle fascination. "I suppose it does."