You can call me Ray or RayRay. I'm fine with either!!
I am a Multi-Fandom writer.
Asks are currently OPEN
DO'S
I will write for fem, non-binary, and masc readers but please keep in mind that I am better at writing for fem since I am fem. If you don't specify gender in your ask, I will write for fem reader
Specify what you prefer in your ask (Fluff, Angst, etc...)
I will mainly write Character x reader but I most likely will write Character x Character as long as both characters are of age. I also write polyamory (Character x reader x Character).
I write SFW
I am unfortunately shit at writing NSFW, but I will write suggestive
DON'TS
Character x OC
Abosolutley NO t-cest, Spardacest, etc...
Who I Write For
Tmnt- All Bayverse (Turtles, Casey, Vern, and April), 1980's (Turtles only), and 2012 (Turtles, April, Karai, and Casey)
Warnings: You stalk him, the reader is #freaky, some of this gets suggestive (borderline nsfw ngl), curse words, several words repeated in a list (idk it may annoy some of you), reader lives at Devil May Cry with Verg and Dante
No one would’ve guessed. That was the cruelest part of it. No one would ever look at you and think obsessive. Nico called you sunshine, Nero called you annoying. Lady said you were “too nice for this line of work.” Hell, even Dante once laughed and told you that you smiled like someone who’d never done anything remotely wrong in her life, and you laughed with him. With all of them. Softly and sweetly.
Like there wasn’t something rotten blooming beneath your ribs. Like there wasn’t hunger dressed in gentleness. Like your hands had never trembled from wanting. If he only knew.
The box under your bed was plain cardboard. Old and soft at the corners from weeks of being touched too often. The edges worn pale from your fingertips. Taped once along the bottom seam where it had nearly split from the weight of what it carried. Inside were photographs. Dozens of them. Glossy and small was your quiet archive of devotion.
Some developed at convenience stores beneath buzzing fluorescent lights. Others printed on Nico’s cheap printer while everyone else was distracted or out devil hunting.
Every. single. one. was Vergil.
Not obvious. Never obvious. You weren’t a careless idiot.
You never took them while he was looking, nor directly from the front unless other people filled the room. Most were stolen from shadows across the garage or behind doorframes. A few were taken through half-closed spaces where his reflection fractured in dark glass.
A shoulder by the bookshelf, his hands curled around porcelain, Yamato leaning silent against the wall like another extension of him, a blurred photograph of him standing in the rain behind the shop; coat soaked black with water to name a few favorites.
Your most prized was his hand turning a page. Nothing else. Just fingers against yellow paper. Elegant, pale, and yet unmistakably him. You knew those hands better than your own. You've imagined them every night since you'd met him. The image of them gliding across your soft skin and finding a home between your thighs, pleasuring you in ways your own never could. The line of tendon beneath his wrist always got you the most worked up.
The photographs were tied together with a faded ribbon. Stacked carefully inside the box beneath sweaters and winter scarves. Buried under ordinary things. Hidden where no one would think to search. Especially not Vergil.
Sometimes you opened the box just to count them. Not because you didn’t know how many, but because touching them felt ritualistic. Like you were holding pieces of him he never knew he’d left behind.
“Can you hand me that wrench?” You tossed it to Nico without looking. She caught it one-handed. “Thanks.”
The garage smelled like hot metal and gasoline. Nero argued with Dante by the jukebox over something loud and expensive. You sat perched on the edge of Nico’s workbench sorting screws into containers while pretending not to notice movement near the stairs. Vergil descended without sound. Stillness wrapped around him like armor.
You didn’t look. Not immediately. That was how people got caught. Instead, you focused on the screws in your palm. Silver, steel. Large, small. Count them, sort them. Take one big breath. Then, after a few seconds, you casually glanced up.
“Good morning!” you chirped
Vergil gave a small nod, his voice low. “Morning.”
Then he crossed toward the kettle. To him, you were easy to figure out. Nero’s sweet, harmless friend who charmed Dante into giving her a room and job at the shop. The girl who laughed too easily. Who bought groceries. Who patched wounds with careful hands. Who sometimes fell asleep downstairs on the couch after staying up too late sorting through all of his idiot brother's paperwork that he was far too lazy to do himself. That was all.
And you preferred it that way. Because the moment someone saw too much, everything you built would come down crumbling around you. Harmless girls were invisible, and invisible things could remain close. Close enough to hear the kettle begin to boil before anyone else noticed. Close enough to catch the scent of tea leaves when he lifted the lid. Close enough to brush past his sleeve in the kitchen and pretend it meant nothing.
Later, Nico and Nero left for parts. You stayed behind to organize invoices Dante had ignored for weeks. Vergil sat by the window reading, rain whispering against the glass. The shop felt hollow with quiet. You sat cross-legged on the floor beside the coffee table, papers spread around you like a shield. And if you tilted your head, just slightly, you could see him reflected in the dark television screen, enough to watch him without looking.
He turned pages slowly, one hand against the armrest and his legs crossed. Still as carved stone. You kept your gaze on the invoices, only glancing at the reflection.
Three seconds.
Look away.
Two seconds.
Look away.
You knew better than to stare directly. Vergil noticed things. Far too many things. Breathing shifts, footsteps behind closed doors, movement caught in mirrors, eyes that lingered too long. So, you learned to watch around him instead. You knew every surface in Devil May Cry capable of catching him. Every angle. Every fragment. Through windows after dark. Through polished silverware. Through glass doors. Through reflections in spoons and television screens.
There was nowhere he could go, without you finding a way to look at him...even if it was only through glass, reflection, or memory.
Later that evening, the shop settled into one of its rare silences, rain whispering faintly against the windows. Nico had long since shut herself in the garage. Dante’s laughter drifted from downstairs before fading toward the front office. Nero’s footsteps crossed overhead once, then disappeared. And then... nothing.
You moved quietly through the hallway. Not sneaking. Sneaking implied guilt and you did not feel guilty for what you were doing. You walked the way you always did, soft-footed and absent-minded, like you were on your way to the bathroom, looking for a misplaced charger, or checking whether someone had left something downstairs.
Your hand hovered at Vergil’s bedroom door. Then curled around the handle. Unlocked. Of course it was. Anyone willing to enter Vergil's room without his permission had a death wish, and he made this known. However, desire and hunger for him settled deeper within your bones than any threats made by the object of your obsession.
You stepped inside. The room smelled faintly of old paper, clean linen, and tea leaves. His room was exactly what you imagined it would be. Neat with everything in place. Books stacked in measured order on the desk. A coat folded over the chair. Boots aligned carefully beside the wall. Even silence felt organized in here.
You shut the door softly behind you. Your heartbeat was loud enough to fill the room. You stood still for a moment. Your gaze slid slowly over everything. His open book on the desk with a ribbon marking the page, a teacup left rinsed beside the washbasin, gloves folded beside Yamato’s stand, the bed still made. Everything was perfect, untouched.
You stepped farther in, fingertips brushing the edge of the desk feeling the old, splintered, rough wood, your touch feather-light. Like if you were gentle enough, the room wouldn’t realize you didn’t belong there. Your eyes landed on the coat draped over the chair. Dark and heavy. Still holding the shape of his shoulders.
You stared and reached for it before you could think too hard. The fabric was cool and weighty in your hands. Smooth beneath your fingers. You lifted it carefully and held it against yourself. The sleeves are far too long, and the hem brushes your shins. The scent was stronger now in the cold air. Old leather, tea, and something distinctly his with no name you could give it.
You closed your eyes and lifted it up to your nose, drowning your senses in him. Your fingers tightened around the fabric and a fire burned deep in your loins, a small puddle forming in your underwear. Your eyes rolled back as you inhaled his scent again, a soft moan dying in your throat.
Your fingers loosened their grip as you reminded yourself where you were and that you had to be out of here quickly. You folded his gorgeous coat carefully and tucked it beneath your arm. Just for tonight. You’d return it in the morning before anyone noticed. Before he noticed.
Your gaze drifted toward the small table beside the bed. A pair of black gloves lay folded there. Beside them a silver bookmark tucked between the pages of a closed book. It was simple and thin, metal catching the dim light that spilled from between his curtains.
You picked it up, cool against your skin. He would notice the gloves. Maybe the book. But the bookmark.... perhaps not immediately. Perhaps later. Perhaps never. Your thumb traced the engraved edge once before slipping it into your pocket. A pulse fluttered painfully in your throat as footsteps started somewhere in the hallway. You froze, breath caught in your lungs. The footsteps passed the door, continuing in their journey down the hall, eventually dying down.
Your body remained still several seconds longer. Then slowly, you moved back toward the door. At the threshold you paused. Turned once, looked back at the room once more to drink it all in, making sure it looked just as it did when you entered. Nothing disturbed, chair slightly emptier, bookmark missing, and everything else exactly where it belonged. As though you’d never been there. You slipped into the hallway unnoticed, the door clicked shut behind you with barely a sound.
Later, back in your room, Vergil’s coat rested folded across your blanket. The silver bookmark hidden inside the cardboard box beneath the ribbon of photographs, pressed between glossy paper edges like something delicate enough to bruise.
Your room was quiet that night, only plagued by the hum of the bedside lamp and well... a simple toy of yours.
The cardboard box sat open across your blanket, the newest photo in your hand and his coat pressed to your face as you brought yourself to climax again and again.
The photo was freshly printed, still warm earlier from the machine. It was Vergil at the kitchen counter, head bowed slightly as he poured tea. Sharp profile under soft yellow light. His expression unreadable. Your thumb brushed the glossy edge, then traced his silhouette as though touching something holy. Jaw, collar, shoulder all wonderfully sculpted.
A week later, it almost went wrong. Vergil stood outside behind the shop, the evening bleeding into blue while he leaned against the railing with a book in one hand. You saw him through the upstairs window, grabbed your phone, and told yourself, "Just one." Because the light caught silver in his hair. Because the wind moved the ends of his coat. Because the moment felt too beautiful to survive unwitnessed.
You stepped out through the side exit, raised your phone, adjusting to the perfect angle and lighting. Your finger hit the button. The shutter clicked louder than expected. Tiny but sharp enough to split the silence. Vergil turned and you lowered the phone instantly. Your heartbeat slammed against your ribs.
He looked at you, expression calm. “What are you doing?”
You lifted the screen. “The sky.” you pointed out.
He glanced upward, the clouds streaked violet and silver above the rooftops. “…I see."
“It looked nice.” You smiled.
Vergil studied you another second... then turned back to the railing. You walked inside before your knees gave out.
After that, you were more careful. But not careful enough. Because obsession had teeth, and greed made them sharper. It happened on a Sunday. It was another rare quiet day in the shop. Dante was gone. Nico asleep upstairs. Nero buried beneath a motorcycle.
You wiped down the kitchen counter while Vergil stood at the sink rinsing a teacup, sunlight pouring through dusty windows like spilled gold lighting up every deliciously sharp angle of his face. He dried the cup and placed it beside the kettle. You stood across the room with your back half turned watching his reflection in the chrome faucet when he spoke.
“You carry your phone often.” he said without looking at you.
Your hand stilled on the rag. “…Everyone carries their phone often.”
“Mm.” he grunted.
You forced yourself to keep wiping. The fridge hummed. Metal clanged in the garage. Vergil dried his hands, then turned slightly.
“Do you enjoy photography?”
The question landed inside you like a blade sliding between ribs. “Sometimes.” You smiled lightly.
“What do you photograph?”
“Just whatever’s around.” He studied you. Not accusingly. Perhaps it felt that way with how paranoid you had gotten recently after such a close call last month. “The garage,” you added. “Nico’s projects. Dumb stuff Nero does.”
“HEY!” Nero shouted from the next room.
You nearly laughed, a small smile playing on your lips. Vergil’s gaze lingered another moment.
“I see.” He said as he spun on his heel to leave the kitchen.
You stood frozen long after he was gone, rag clenched in your hand, pulse in your throat.
That night you pulled the box from beneath your bed. You opened it, looking through every photo one by one, your hands unsteady. There were too many. Far too many. Evidence. Proof. A shrine disguised as scraps of paper. Vergil by the window, Vergil reading, Vergil beneath the rain. His hands, shoulders, and side profile. His coat over the chair...
So many fragments and pieces of a man who had never once offered himself to you, yet you kept him anyway. You remembered where every photo was taken. The day and hour, who else was present. What book he held and what tea he drank that day. Whether he seemed tired, whether he spoke, or whether he sighed before turning the page. You remembered all of it.
You gathered them carefully, straightening every edge and tied the ribbon as you placed them back inside the box. You slid it beneath your bed until cardboard touched wall. Safe, hidden, and untouched. For the first time since you've started your little.... hobby your chest tightened when you let it go because of the way he looked at you in the kitchen.
It wasn't an accusing look. No, you'd seen him look at Dante accusingly and that was nothing like the way he looked at you tonight. It was more... thoughtful and observant. Like he’d noticed a thread hanging loose and had not yet decided whether he wanted to pull it.
The next morning, you came downstairs carrying coffee like always. Vergil sat in the armchair by the window, book open in his lap. A wonderful cup of tea steaming beside him, sunlight across the floorboards. Nero half asleep on the couch, and Nico shouting unintelligible from the garage.
“Good morning.” You smiled.
“Morning.” Vergil looked up. His gaze stayed on you one second longer than usual. Then returned to the page. Nothing else. No accusation. No question.
But later, while retrieving something for Nico upstairs, you looked up and caught him once, standing in the upstairs hallway. Looking toward a bedroom door. YOUR bedroom door, you realized. It was only briefly and his expression was unreadable. Then he walked away.
And for the first time in months, your hands shook badly enough that you dropped the toolbox.
This was so fun to write!! Hope you guys liked it!!
Could we perhaps get Vergil’s platonic!Teen X uncle! Dante please 🙏 🥺
All completely platonic! Continuation of this post and this post.
That Is Not My Child
Dante x Platonic! adoptedniece/nephew!Reader
Warnings: Verg slightly ooc, ONE SINGULAR curse word, I don't think I made Dante ooc but like he might be a little bit, Reader's gender is not specified
“This is a terrible idea.”
“It’s literally just groceries,” Dante replied.
You adjusted the hood of your jacket and looked up at him flatly. “Last time you said that, we got attacked by a demon in a parking garage.”
“That was one time.” he insisted.
“It was three times.” you corrected.
“Okay, but statistically-”
“That’s not helping.” you interrupted.
Dante grinned and slung an arm around your shoulders, anyway, steering you toward the front doors of the store. “Relax, kid. Uncle Dante’s got this.”
“You ate expired pizza for breakfast.”
“And I survived because I'm awesome.”
You sighed heavily. At least Vergil was predictable. Dante operated entirely on impulse, caffeine, and what you strongly suspected was divine luck.
You weren’t technically Dante’s responsibility. That was the important part. Your honorary father had made that very clear.
“You are capable of handling yourself.” he said with his hand on your shoulder.
Translation: figure it out. Which you usually did, but after one mission had gone particularly badly (and after Dante found out you’d stitched up your own arm alone in the bathroom of Devil May Cry) things had… shifted.
Not verbally. God forbid anyone in this family communicate directly. But suddenly Dante started checking whether you’d eaten. Started showing up to missions “coincidentally.” Started leaving food in the shop fridge labeled: NOT YOURS, VERGIL! >:( Then underneath in different handwriting: I do not want it. Then underneath that: GOOD. MORE FOR THE KID.
It was embarrassing how much that stupid note stuck with you. Currently, though, Dante was trying to throw frozen waffles into the cart from three feet away.
“You missed all five,” you informed him.
“I was adjusting for wind resistance.”
“We’re indoors.” you deadpanned.
“Ah. That explains it.”
A nearby woman gave him a strange look.
Dante noticed immediately and pointed at you. “Teenager made me do it.”
“What?!” you hissed, side eyeing the horrified looking woman. You deadpanned, “I don’t know him.”
“Wow,” Dante said, putting a hand over his heart. “After everything I’ve done for you.”
By the time you got back to Devil May Cry, you were exhausted.
“We survive another day.” Dante said dumping the grocery bags onto the table dramatically.
“You fought A demon.” you said.
“And won.”
From the corner of the room, Vergil looked up from his book briefly. “You destroyed public property over a lesser demon.”
“It was already broken probably.”
“The building caught fire.” Vergil said, jerking his thumb towards the TV.
“Only a little.” Dante said, touching his thumb and index finger together.
You dropped onto the couch with a groan. “Please tell me this family gets less exhausting when I’m older.”
“No,” Vergil said immediately.
“Absolutely not,” Dante agreed with a comically large smile on his face.
“Well, that’s horrifying.” you sighed.
A quieter silence settled after that while you started unpacking groceries while Dante wandered around the shop pretending to help and mostly getting distracted. At one point, he tossed you a drink without looking. You caught it automatically.
“Thought you liked those,” he said casually.
You blinked slightly at the can in your hands. Your favorite kind. You hadn’t mentioned that in months. “…Thanks.”
Later that night, after Vergil bid you goodnight with a small kiss to the crown of your head and disappeared upstairs, the shop finally quieted down. You sat on the couch flipping through channels while Dante cleaned one of his guns nearby.
“You know,” you said eventually, “you don’t actually have to keep checking on me.”
“Hm?” Dante hummed in confusion.
“I’m not helpless.”
Dante snorted softly. “I know that, kid.”
“Then why do you keep doing it?”
For once, he didn’t answer immediately. He kept working for another second before setting the gun down.
“Because nobody really did that for me at your age.”
The answer was so simple it caught you off guard. Dante leaned back in his chair after that, expression lighter again.
“And before you get all emotional about it,” he added quickly, pointing at you, “I’m still charging you for those waffles.”
You stared at him. “You missed every shot.”
“Doesn’t matter. They’re emotionally mine.”
“That’s not how groceries work.” you giggled.
“Says who?” he insisted playfully.
“Society.”
“Society sounds weak.” You laughed despite yourself.
Dante grinned immediately, victorious.
“There we go,” he said. “That’s the sound of healing.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“Yeah,” he replied easily. “But you’d miss me if I died.”
You looked at him flatly. “…Can you not say stuff like that?”
The joke faded from his face almost instantly.
“…Yeah,” he said quietly. “Alright.”
A small pause followed, then Dante abruptly pointed toward the kitchen. “Anyway, if Vergil eats my strawberry waffles, we attack at dawn.”
OKAY BUT LIKE FEM/READER IN LABOR TO DANTE'S KID?? HOW WOULD DAT LOOK LIKE?? (I saw one of ur fics and immediately ur my fav writer)
I'M YOUR FAVORITE?! Omg that literally means so much! Okay frens bear with me I've never had a child so I'll so my bestest!
Devils Don’t Panic (Dante Does, Apparently)
Dante x pregnant!Reader
Warnings: I've decided that you're giving birth in the shop bc you cannot have a demon child at a hospital muah, Kyrie is helping you give birth because I head cannon her as a Neonatal Nurse, everyone catching strays, cursing
“Breathe.”
“I am breathing,” Dante snapped.
“You’re not the one in labor.”
“I KNOW THAT.”
Another contraction hit and you grabbed the front of his jacket hard enough that a lesser man probably would’ve folded immediately. Dante barely reacted to the grip. The panic in his face, though? Priceless
“This is your fault,” you hissed through clenched teeth.
“That feels unfair.”
“You did this to me.”
“Takes two people, babe-OW-okay, alright, fair enough.” You released his jacket only to grab his arm instead as the pain eased slightly.
The Devil May Cry shop was in complete disarray. One of the couches had been shoved aside. Towels were everywhere. Nero had nearly kicked the front door off its hinges trying to carry supplies in fast enough, and Dante looked like he was two seconds away from having a full spiritual collapse.
“You said we had more time!” he stressed.
“How was I supposed to know?!” you shot back.
“I had a PLAN!”
“You don’t even plan lunch, idiot!”
“That’s DIFFERENT!” he points in your face.
"If you don't get that damn finger out of my face, I'm going to bite. it. OFF!" you snapped
Across the room, Nero looked deeply, deeply uncomfortable as he held an armful of blankets.
“I’m gonna be honest,” he said carefully, “I fight demons better than I handle… this.”
“You’re doing great,” Kyrie assured him gently.
Kyrie, unlike every other person in the room, actually looked calm. Competent, even. Which currently made her the most powerful person in the building. Meanwhile, Vergil stood near the jukebox with his arms crossed, somehow looking exactly as composed as always. Which was irritating.
“Why is he calm?” You pointed at him accusingly.
Vergil regarded you evenly. “Panicking would not improve the situation.”
Dante looked borderline offended. “Okay, well, sorry for loving my wife.”
“I did not say otherwise.”
“You implied it.” Dante argued.
“I implied you are loud.”
Another contraction hit before Dante could argue back.
“Oh okay- nope! forget him- holy shit your demon baby is trying to rip me apart!!”
Dante immediately dropped to your side again. “Hey, hey, hey- look at me.”
You grabbed his hand hard enough to threaten circulation. He let you. Actually, correction- he squeezed back immediately, thumb rubbing anxiously over your knuckles while he looked at you like he’d fight the universe itself if it would make this easier.
“You’re okay,” he said quickly.
“You don’t know that.”
“Right, sorry, bad wording. You’re... uh... strong?”
“That sounded stupid.” You gave him a look. “It sounded very stupid.”
Dante had been unbearable for the entire pregnancy. Protective in the most irritating ways possible. You reached for something on a high shelf once and this man practically teleported across the room.
“I got it.”
“…I can reach that.”
“Yeah, but what if you fall?” he said.
“It’s a shelf, Dante.” you sighed.
“People die from shelves probably.”
you rolled your eyes. “No, they don’t.”
“You don’t know that.” he argued.
And don’t even get started on the cravings. At two in the morning, you’d muttered that strawberries sounded good. Dante had crashed through the shop door like a man on a divine mission. Three hours later, he returned dramatically covered in rain, holding up one slightly crushed carton.
“I have succeeded.” he smiled to himself.
Vergil took one look at him and said, “You appear feral.”
“I went to three stores.”
“You could have waited until morning.” Vergil said simply.
“She wanted strawberries now.” he shrugged like that explained everything. To Dante it did.
Now, though, the reality was finally hitting him. You’d never seen him this stressed. Not against demons. Not during fights. Not even when he and Vergil nearly killed each other over stupid brother issues. But this? This had him pacing holes into the floor between contractions while Kyrie repeatedly tried to make him sit down.
“Dante,” she said patiently, “you are making her more anxious.”
“I’m not trying to!”
“You’re yelling.” Kyrie answered.
“I’m emotionally invested!”
“You’re spiraling.”
“I KNOW.” he shouted.
At one point, Kyrie asked Nero to boil water and he stared at her like she’d handed him a nuclear bomb.
“…How?”
Kyrie blinked. “…On... the stove?”
“Right. Yeah. Right.”
Vergil exhaled quietly through his nose.
“I share blood with this man,” he told himself. “Remarkable.”
Hours later, you were exhausted and Dante looked worse.
“You look terrible,” you told him weakly.
“I’m stressed.”
“You’re stressed?!” you shouted.
“I’m emotionally supporting you!”
“You almost passed out earlier!”
“In my defense, there was a lot happening!” he huffed out.
“You fight giant monsters!”
“Yeah, but they’re not our baby!”
That shut the room up for a second. Even Vergil glanced over. Dante rubbed a hand over his face immediately after, clearly realizing how emotional he sounded.
“…Man,” he muttered quietly, “I really love this kid already.”
Your expression softened instantly. Oh, there he was. Not the cocky hunter. Not the loud idiot. Just Dante. Your Dante. Terrified and excited and trying so hard to hold himself together for you. You reached for his hand again, this time more gently.
“C’mere.”
He moved immediately.
You tugged him down enough to press your forehead against his.
“You’re doing okay,” you murmured.
Dante laughed weakly. “Pretty sure I’m not.”
“You are.” you insisted.
Another contraction interrupted before he could answer. Immediately his entire expression shifted again.
“Okay, okay- breathing right- uhhh-” he stuttered through his words.
A cry filled the shop, and everything stopped completely. Dante froze. You froze. The whole room just… paused. Kyrie carefully placed the baby into your arms and Dante stared like he couldn’t fully process what he was seeing. A small head of white hair and tiny vibrant blue irises looking right back at him.
“…Whoa,” he whispered.
You looked down, exhausted and emotional and completely overwhelmed all at once. Tiny. So tiny. Dante slowly sat beside you like sudden movements might somehow break reality.
“That’s…” He swallowed hard. “That’s our girl?”
You laughed softly. “Yeah, idiot.”
His eyes never left her, and for maybe the first time in his life Dante Sparda had absolutely nothing clever to say. He just looked wrecked by love.
Behind you, Vergil spoke quietly. “…The child has your eyes.”
Dante blinked rapidly like he’d just remembered other people existed.
“RIGHT?!” he said immediately, emotional devastation gone in a split second. “Did you see that? That’s MY kid!”
Vergil looked unimpressed. “You contributed biologically. Do not become arrogant.”
“I’m gonna teach her sword tricks.”
“You will wait until she can stand.” you said.
“She’s already strong, I can tell.”
“She is six minutes old, babe.” you stated.
“She’s got potential.”
You groaned tiredly.
Kyrie laughed softly from nearby while Nero looked like he still hadn’t emotionally recovered from the experience. "Kyrie please promise me we won't do this to ourselves."
Writing this one shot based on my friend's tomadachi island where my Mii is obsessed with Verg but he literally hates her. She made them sit in Tomoria for 2 hours and he still won't love her... so enjoy!!
A Matter of Curiosity
Vergil X Reader
Warnings: Angst NO comfort
You didn’t chase Vergil. That would’ve been pointless. You simply… didn’t stop showing up. On jobs, in conversations, in the quiet moments where most people gave him space; you didn’t crowd him, but you didn’t avoid him either.
It wasn’t obsession in the loud, overwhelming sense. It was precision and consistency. Interest, applied carefully, if you will. Which, apparently, was enough to get Dante involved.
“Oh, come on,” Dante said, arms crossed, grinning like this was the best thing that had happened all week. “It’s dinner. Not a contract.”
“It is a waste of time,” Vergil replied flatly.
“Then prove it,” you cut in.
Both brothers looked at you.
You leaned back against the wall, calm, unfazed. “Go to dinner with me. If it’s a waste of time, I’ll drop it.”
Vergil’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You assume your presence holds that much influence.”
“I assume you wouldn’t agree if you weren’t at least a little curious.”
Silence.
Nero snorted from the side. “She’s got a point.”
Dante grinned wider. “Yeah, Vergil. What’s the worst that happens? You eat food?”
A pause.
“…Very well,” Vergil said.
Dante actually clapped. You just nodded once. “Tomorrow, then.”
The restaurant was quiet, understated, no distractions. You chose it on purpose, keeping Vergil's interests in mind. Vergil arrived exactly on time. Of course he did.
“You selected this location deliberately,” he said as he sat.
“It’s efficient,” you replied.
That seemed to satisfy him. You didn’t waste time pretending this was something it wasn’t.
“I like you,” you said plainly after ordering.
No hesitation. No buildup.
Vergil didn’t react outwardly. “I am aware.”
“Good," You folded your hands in front of you on the table. "That saves time.”
“It does.”
A pause....
“Do you like me?” you asked.
“No.”
You smiled slightly. “Also efficient.”
Most people would’ve stopped there. You didn’t. Because that wasn’t the point. Conversation with Vergil was… clean. No fluff. No wasted words. You talked about work first. Recent hunts, tactics, mistakes other hunters made.
“You hesitate when your opponent is erratic,” he said.
“Because erratic doesn’t mean unpredictable,” you replied. “It usually means sloppy.”
“And yet you wait.”
“I assess my enemy.”
“For too long.” he countered.
“Long enough.”
His gaze held yours for a second longer than necessary.
At one point, the waiter asked if everything was satisfactory.
“It is acceptable,” Vergil said.
You nodded. “Same.”
The waiter looked mildly confused and walked away. You almost smiled.
“You’re not trying to impress me,” Vergil observed.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it wouldn’t work.” you said plainly.
“That is correct.”
“I know.” you smiled.
“Then why pursue this at all?” he asked.
You leaned back slightly, considering him. “Because you’re interesting.”
“That is not a sufficient reason.”
“It is for me.”
“Interest fades.” he insisted.
“Sometimes.”
“And when it does?”
“I’ll stop.”
Your response was simple and direct. Most importantly true. Vergil studied you. Not skeptically, not critically, of course, but like he was testing the structure of your answer.
“You approach this… logically,” he said.
“I approach you realistically.” you said. "I know what kind of man you are, Vergil."
Dinner ended without ceremony. No lingering. No unnecessary extension. Outside, the air was cool and still when you turned to him.
“Well,” you said. “That confirms it.”
“What does?”
“You’re not secretly different in a restaurant.”
“I never implied otherwise.”
“Dante did.” you giggled.
“…Dante is incorrect about many things.”
“Frequently.” you agreed.
Halfway through the walk you home, you decided it was now or never.
“I meant what I said,” you added. “I like you.”
“I am aware.”
“And I know you’re not interested.”
“Correct.” he confirmed.
You nodded once. “Alright.”
No disappointment. No frustration. Just acknowledgment. That was new.
Vergil frowned slightly. “You are not deterred.”
“I said I’d drop it if it was a waste of time.”
“And?”
You tilted your head, faint amusement in your expression. “It wasn’t.”
That made him pause. “…Explain.”
“You’re consistent. Direct. You don’t pretend.” You shrugged lightly. “That’s rare.”
“It does not benefit you.”
“Not everything has to.”
“That is inefficient.” he pointed out.
“Not everything has to be efficient either.”
A quiet beat passed. Vergil’s gaze lingered. Not soft, not warm, but focused.
The two of you arrived back at the shop in no time, the conversation between you dying on the steps.
Dante leaned forward immediately. “So?!”
Nero crossed his arms. “Did he ditch you halfway through?”
“No.” you said calmly.
They blinked.
“…No?” Dante repeated.
“No.”
Vergil stepped in behind you. “It was a reasonable use of time.”
Dante stared at him. “That’s your review of a date?!”
“Yes.”
Nero groaned. “You’re impossible.”
You smiled slightly. “Told you he’d make it through dinner.”
Vergil exhaled faintly. “I did not require proof.”
“No,” you said. “But you got it anyway.”
A pause. Then, as you moved past him:
“Same time next week?” you asked casually.
Dante choked.
Nero went, “NO WAY-”
Vergil didn’t answer immediately. Of course he didn’t. This time… you waited, hands crossed in front of your legs, your bag dangling from two of your fingers. The shop fell strangely quiet. Dante looked between the two of you, grin slowly fading. Vergil’s expression didn’t change, but his gaze sharpened like he was considering the question with far more weight than he wanted anyone to notice.
“No.”
There was no cruelty in it which somehow made it worse. Dante’s shoulders stiffened. Nero glanced away. You stood there for half a second, the silence pressing against your ribs. Then you nodded once.
“Alright.” Your voice came out even.
Like his response hadn’t landed somewhere beneath your sternum and stayed there. Vergil said nothing else. You didn’t ask again. You moved past him toward the stairs like you’d intended to anyway, like the question had been nothing more than passing conversation.
But halfway up, Dante called after you. “Hey-”
“Goodnight, everyone,” you said lightly, without turning around. Too quick. Too polished.
Your bedroom door clicked shut upstairs. The shop remained quiet for several long seconds. Nero muttered something under his breath and disappeared toward the garage. Dante stayed where he was, then slowly looked toward Vergil.
“What the hell was that?”
Vergil didn’t answer.
Dante frowned. “You went.”
“Yes.”
“You stayed the whole night.” he gestured wildly with his hands.
“Yes.”
“You told us it wasn’t a waste of time.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Then why say no?” Dante pressed.
Vergil’s jaw tightened. His gaze lingered on the staircase.
“…Because she deserves someone capable of wanting what she wants from me.”
Dante went silent. Vergil’s expression gave away nothing, but his hand flexed once at his side, brief and tense before stilling again. Upstairs, you sat on the edge of your bed, staring at the wall across from you. You weren’t crying. Didn’t plan to. Because he’d been honest and honesty was one of the things you liked about him. It was what made this hurt in such a precise, unbearable way.
TAG YOUR MOOTS AND MAKE THEM EXPLAIN THEIR USERNAMES LORE
Starting with me:
Hyyl18 because when i was youngest i had a group in a random app with some friends and i didnt knew qhat username to use so i decided to create one with things i used to read since we were talking abt fanfic in this group so: Hot Yaoi Yuri Lemon +18 stuff (i was in my dirty era dont dare to judge me). Hyyl18 thats it. Now i use it everywhere yay
@patroclus-is-the-bigger-person @b4rty-r0s13r-w1ll-fck-y0ur-m0m @cuntyteardrop @glassesgirlies @leninthestarlight @bardorsomethinglikethat anyone else who wanna join tbh yay
Got mine back when I was in my FNAF era, my favorite animatronic was Mangle. At first it was Manglefan but it changed to Mangos for genuinely no reason. Now it sticked to almost every account I have.
uh i’m tired most of the time and my favorite character is archibald strutted from archibald’s next big thing so that’s why i’m called “sleepystrutter28”
I had two previous accounts with the same name but slightly altered and I lost them so yeah
@mountaindewfein @ojwolfy @theoff1calfou4 @gummymew @pinnedd-board @bumbiddybiddybiddybumbummm @b0ba1nw0nderl4nd @nullaby27 @nspilothat + anyone I forgot to tag & open tags!!
aaauauuaua. paintbrush 👍👍 i identified as a paintbrush fictionkin way back when 😌😌 and i thought it would be cute to name myself paintytherealest. so like i was the "realest" version of them and also i was "real" in the sense of being honest and trustworthy and shit. i think i may have outgrown it a little, not so sure about tying my online identity to a fictional character that isnt mine LOL but i still use it for platforms which i dont intend to talk with irl peeps much.
ummm @justanotherjaykist @bananacaramel @b1ossomk3y2 @krmk-wrkshp @f00l-m3-n0t @risesthemoon-18 @roselalabunny @msuiclovr @metabsstuff + open tags. i actually tried to hunt for more of my moots for once heh
wellll- the reason I was called theoff1calfou4 was because: I used to sound like four PERFECTLY and I knew how to act like him, Plus I related to him A LOT. But by accident, I wrote offical instead of official since I had bad grammar (till now I kinda have) but it made my user a bit interesting so I made it like that (I added the 1 and 4 on off1cal and fou4 since they look like the letters and 1 ND 4 r siblings to me :]) so DATS why I named my self theoff1calfou4 ^^
ok so basically I had a tough time picking a username on ao3 so whay I did was
-took a nickname of mine ("Mallory")
- added something cool at the end ("Meow")
put em together and I got mall0ryy_meow as my ao3 username. Since then I started using it for all my accounts. You'll find me here and on ao3. You'll find me as "burnt zero" or smth on magma, and "gubbyvii" on discord
OK COOL
@coofepinetree (I've been interested in this username for a while now) @jellycatz10 @patchynmatchin
ooh ok let’s do this !!!
so basically my username was actually going to be PancakezznZyrup before I changed it too Patchynmatchin
I wanted something like really catchy and fun to say and similar to that username. Patchynmatchin was the first thing that came to mind so I decided to go with that!! :]
ok friend time I dunno if they’ve done this yet @vividhollow @evilherehotel @rvb1nator @orchuris @biograft-473 @eldr1tch-cr0w @cassiemousepaint(<- curious about that!! Lots)
so!! originally my url was biblically-accurate-crow because i liked biblically accurate angels and crows. randomly around last year i realized i dont want anyone irl finding my blog besides close friends and since i was becoming a little more well known in my school and i was worried people would find it because my discord username was pretty much the same thing
so! the solution? changing my url to eldr1tch-cr0w (which i thought of it as a shortened version of the original at the time) and changing my discord username to something completely different. as well as every other social media account that ppl irl knew about
ok originally my name was DimmyDoodles because i really liked Dimentio from SPM and im an artist and i had this name for years all through my amino phase UNTIL tumblr deactivated my account so now my username is cannibalnumber14 because well. the number
IMMA DO THIS CAUSE IM BORED
i really really like liminal spaces and, because i wanted to change my user from "basillover32" (because it just doesn't match me anymore) i decided to name myself "imaginedmist" ... I DONT HAVE MUCH REASONING FOR THE "imagined" PART but i just thought it sounded neat so i adopted it
I still very much adore Undertale but it isn't my main hyperfixation rn. My username comes from having Sans as one of my yumes along with some of the AUs.
@dangersty1er @aceofheartsssss @victor-forest and anyone who wants to be in on this, no pressure to if you don't want to :3
THANK YOU FOR TAGGING ME EEEEEEEEE (I ACC get so giddy when ppl tag me in fun stuffz :>>>
SOOOO, it's a weird one (as usual 😭😭) but I got my username from a weird dream I had when I was 18, where I was escaping this government facility in a desert but I got caught. My code name in the dream was "Ace of Spades" and I thought it was COOL, but at the same time irl I also found out I was acespec.
So around the same time, I did some acespec research and found out that romantic asexuals are nicknamed "Ace of Hearts" and aromantic asexuals are nicknamed "Ace of Spades." So I chose aceofheartssssss with 6 s cuz my irl name is 6 letters.
Jus call me Ace.
AGAIN TYSM FOR HAVING ME, I TAG:
@geesvenom @tinydefector @desertrosesmetaldune @aznanananananana
and ANY1 who wants to do ts, no pressure to if ya don't feel like it idc :DDD
Vergil shows off his power and skills to you on hunts because it’s a mating ritual for demons, only the strongest get the favour of the mate. Send tweet.
Vergil is the partner that you sit with in bed among mussed sheets; soft golden morning light warming you both. You’d have a small tray table on the bed with you, holding small bowls of various berries, plates of toast, mugs of coffee.
He would be leaning in your lap, one of your legs curled under you to make a pillow for his massive torso, the other curled over his shoulder and chest as his calloused fingers draw idle lines up and down your calf.
You would read aloud to him from a newspaper, or poetry book, or philosophy think piece. He likes it because your voice is soft, and somewhat hoarse from overuse during the night. He can close his eyes, head pillowed back against your soft belly and breast, and allow himself to be at peace as your fingers card through his hair in one of the extremely rare times it falls down around his forehead.
