Ghost with demons!
TF 141 with dogs🐶
It's been a while painting full rendered pieces, enjoyed a lot!
Inspired from awesome @yourfaithfulauthor's request.
to all of my fic authors, x reader authors, and fandom writers. you're so talented and amazing. your work is so important and your readers love all the hard work you do.
i hope you never feel like your work isn't good enough or you aren't talented enough to make good writings. believe me when i say you are.
you all are so loved man and so appreciated. you guys make my day, truly.
It had all started with a ad for a job and being in dire need of money. Being freshly kicked out by a pair of shitty parents wasn’t a good situation for an 18 year old, especially when you need to pay for a roof over your head and food on your paper plates. That’s where the ad for a store that would eventually be called “devil may cry” comes in. Changing your life from the moment you stepped through its doors to find a red leather clad demon hunter your age with his feet kicked up on his desk.
Whether that change was for the best was up to debate, but you sure as hell gained a bunch of demon hunters who’d move hell or high water for you…literally. Though apparently that applied to literally everything else besides doing the other half of the job which was somehow trying to fill out tax reforms.
This was your life now, and you’d unfortunately have it no other way.
Canon entries
DMC 3
Part 1: Leaving home, Loving life and loosing you
Synopsis: where your story would begin, where a red coat wearing boy your age would find his match in pure stubbornness and his evil brother would find another poetry lover.
Part 2: thirst for connection, tearful goodbyes and trying despite the odds
Synopsis: you reunite with an old friend from high school, almost die and watch someone plunge into hell literally. Yet somehow that’s preferable to your parents
DMC 1
Part 3: resolution of the heart, return of the mother, and revenge of the son
Synopsis: ten years after the Temen-ni-Gru incident a woman who was an exact clone of Dante’s mother barges into devil may cry. Your unfortunate boss sets off on revenge and you secretly follow him to mallet island with the help of this mysterious woman Trish
Part 4: Trust of caring, Taking an offered hand and thundering feathers
Synopsis: continuing through mallet island you and Dante bicker, have a heart to heart, fight a bird and a spider plus bicker some more. What else would you expect though from two emotionally constipated idiots?
Part 5: sinking in human tears, sorrowful trust, soaring to salvation
Synopsis: somehow a pirate ship in this hellhole of a castle is what you expected the least, as is almost drowning after fighting that giant bird again. Somehow you then do the impossible and find out who exactly that knight in demonic armour is.
Part 6: soul of a human, stars in the void, sacrifice but no martyr
Synopsis: you enter the final battle with Dante after a continuation with Trish revealing her true intentions all along. However you don’t expect for her to betray Mundus, sacrifice herself and then somehow come back for the demon kings final attempt at fighting whisky trying to escape mallet island. Thankfully after all that though you get the smallest bit of closure and go home, the nightmare of mallet island finally over
Dmc 2007 (anime)
Episode 1/part 7: a Cinderella named Patty Lowell
Synopsis: getting an odd job for Morrison isn’t something you’re not used to but something involving a kid isn’t one that’s happened before. This job initially starting off as protecting the wealthy heiress of a fortune of a rich mysterious father becomes much more complicated as time goes on. However the most dangerous thing yet is dealing with Patty and Dante arguing with one another
Episode 2/part 8: highway star
Dante takes an unfortunate bud with lady that ends up with him on a job to get rid of a gang of “demons” that are actually just a gang of bikers. This job however soon derails when he enters a rave and finds the true demon lady was sent to take care of. You just try not to crash a bike when dragged into this all
Non-canon or extras
Memes
Devils may love? Meme edition 1
Reactionary memes to part 3
One shots
Dante’s jukebox playlist
Dante makes a romantic playlist, unfortunately for him you find it
Marvel vs capcom
Unfortunately the multiverse is real and your dragged into the problem like your an arcade fighting character
Well loved weapons
As demonic swords tied to Dante and Vergil both Rebellion and Yamato reflect their inner feelings and have some level of consciousness to them.
Vergils mixtape playlist
Vergil makes a romantic playlist like Dante once did, it has similar results in it flying over your head
The Redgrave grapevine
Rumours circulating in Redgrave is nothing uncommon, but one regarding who exactly your with is one that’s been making many friends and residents make bets and argue about.
Eros of love and desire (nsfw minors do not interact)
Dante and Honeypie nsfw headcanons and stuff. Also my first time writing smut so be warned
Phantom act 1
On Halloween devil may cry gets a letter asking for help at an abandoned theatre. Everyone gets roped into an preforming phantom of the opera for a shadowy crowd and theatre director that makes sure the musical goes as planned though does seem to allowed for some changing of the script here and there.
Love interests
Dante Sparda, Vergil Sparda, Lady, Trish, Credo and V
Fighting against oppression no matter what form it takes, be it a corrupt king, rival pirates, or a system of government that controls the whole world
The only way to make a change when stuck in a situation that's actively taking away your freedom and rights is by force
Racism and discrimination are complicated issues that cannot be solved over night, it takes a combined effort to reach an understanding and to change people's views, and even if you can't let go of your own hatred because of the horrible things you've experienced, you shouldn't pass that hatred onto the next generation and instead allow them to form their own opinions through their own lived experiences
Freedom and liberation are basic human rights
Everyone, no matter who they are, should have access to food and water
Healthcare should be readily available to anyone who needs it
It's incredibly important to not only learn, but understand and preserve history, because those who seek power will go out of their way to destroy inconvenient information, erasing the stories of those who no longer have a voice, dooming society into forever repeating the same mistakes without ever learning from them
Children shouldn't suffer because of the actions of their parents
ahh i hope you dont mind if i ask, but could you please maybe write a sir crocodile x f! plus size! reader who was a former marine pls?? ty and drink water!!!
absolutely! thank you for the request. I love croccy <3
Sand in the Ranks
Crocodile x PlusSize!FormerMarine!Reader
The desert wind was cruel, but not as cruel as the looks you still felt burning on your back whenever someone realized who you used to be. Former Marine. Not just that—you had worn the uniform with pride, once. Now, you walked beside the infamous Crocodile, under the heavy silence of Alabasta’s sun, and pride had turned into something… different.
Crocodile, of course, was unreadable as always. His broad coat dragged across the sand, and every step he took seemed perfectly calculated. You were used to being around men who barked orders, who stared at you like your body was somehow a weakness, a burden to be whipped into shape. He wasn’t like that. He never once commented on your form, though you caught him looking at you more than once, his golden eyes narrowing in ways that weren’t disapproval.
The first time had been during a meeting with Baroque Works. One of his agents had dared mutter about “dead weight” under their breath, glancing your way. You’d braced yourself for the usual dismissal, but instead Crocodile’s hook slammed into the table hard enough to rattle glasses. His voice was low, dark, lethal.
“If I hear another word about my choice in personnel, you won’t have a tongue to wag it with.”
Silence. Utter silence. And then his sharp gaze slid toward you, lingering just long enough to make your throat dry. Not pity. Not shame. Possessive, almost. Like he dared anyone to look at you differently again.
That night, when the others had gone, you found the courage to say it. That you weren’t like the women he could have had at his side. That your past as a Marine was a stain, and your body wasn’t made for desert grace.
He’d lit a cigar, smoke curling around him like a halo of sin, and chuckled low in his chest.
“You think I care about uniforms? About some shallow little figure?” His hook had lifted your chin, careful not to graze. “You carry yourself like a soldier, but you fight like someone who knows freedom now. That’s worth more to me than any pretty little Marine doll.”
Heat had rushed to your cheeks, hotter than the desert sun. He smirked then, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you, before leaning close enough that the scent of smoke and spice wrapped around you.
“Besides,” he murmured, voice silk over steel, “I like a woman who takes up space. Easier to remind myself she’s real when I put my hands on her.”
Your breath hitched, the air suddenly too thin, and Crocodile only leaned back, smug as a king.
In the silence that followed, you realized something dangerous: you had fallen out of love with the uniform long ago—but you might be falling into something far more treacherous with him.
And from the way his gaze lingered, like sand clinging to skin, Crocodile had no intention of letting you go.
--
Impel Down stank of blood, seawater, and fear. The worst criminals in the world moaned and howled behind iron bars, their voices echoing down the hellish levels. You walked at Crocodile’s side, your boots steady on the slick stone, a contrast to the chaos unfolding around you.
When he’d been freed from his cell, the world had expected him to rise alone. Instead, he had held out his hand to you, sharp and deliberate. Not a command, not even a request—an unspoken acknowledgment. You weren’t his underling. You were his equal, his shadow in the dark, his right hand when the situation demanded steel and certainty.
More than once, the other escapees stared at you as though waiting for Crocodile to discard you, to sneer at your body, your past, your Marine scars. Instead, he moved as though you were an extension of him. When his sand lashed out, your blade followed. When he struck from a distance, you stepped in close, holding the line.
It was enough to make even Luffy pause.
“Whoa!” the rubber boy exclaimed, wide eyes blinking at you between skirmishes. “She’s super strong—and cool! Like, scary cool!”
For a moment, you expected Crocodile to snort or dismiss him. Instead, he smirked, smoke curling from his cigar as his gaze flicked your way.
“Hmph. For once, Straw Hat, you’re not wrong.”
The words stopped you in your tracks more than any enemy could. Crocodile agreeing with him? About you? Heat burned under your skin, though you masked it behind the hard set of your jaw.
You cut down another guard with clean efficiency, ignoring the prickle of embarrassment warming your chest. Luffy was already charging ahead, oblivious as always, but Crocodile lingered behind you, his golden eyes sharp.
“You hear that?” he murmured low, only for you. “Even your little pirate idol recognizes what you are.” His hook tapped against the railing, a soft metallic rhythm. “Not a Marine. Not a shadow of me. You’re power all your own.”
The battle raged on, screams and chaos around you, but for a heartbeat, you only heard him. His approval, rare as rain in the desert, settled deep in your chest.
And maybe, just maybe, it was more intoxicating than freedom itself.
--
The ship cut across the waves, the air thick with anticipation. Every man on board could feel it—the shadow of Marineford looming closer, a war that would either end in glory or in chains.
Buggy was loudest of all, his voice cutting through the din like a seagull’s shriek.
“Oi, oi, oi! Who even are you anyway?” His painted face twisted into suspicion, pointing a stubby finger at you. “Some random woman following Crocodile around—can you even be trusted? You were a Marine, weren’t you?!”
You tilted your head, slow as a predator sizing prey, before smiling with razor-edged politeness.
“And you’re a clown,” you said, voice smooth but carrying bite. “Through and through.”
The silence that followed was glorious. A few chuckles rippled among the prisoners, and even Luffy burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. Buggy spluttered, turning red beneath his greasepaint, but the words stuck. He didn’t push it further.
Beside you, Crocodile exhaled smoke through his nose, lips quirking faintly. Not his usual sharp smirk—something smaller, quieter. A glimmer of amusement meant for you alone.
Luffy bounded over after a beat, tilting his head. “So wait—you were a Marine?!” His eyes were wide, curious, like he’d just uncovered a hidden treasure.
You nodded, resting your hands on the railing. “Once. A long time ago. Back when I thought justice was something the World Government could define for me.” You watched the horizon, the sea foaming white. “But justice without freedom isn’t justice at all. I learned that the hard way.”
Jinbei, calm and thoughtful as ever, inclined his head. “Then you chose freedom, even if it meant standing beside the man you once would’ve hunted.” His gaze flicked toward Crocodile, who met it without flinching.
“Freedom,” you echoed softly. “And the right to decide who I am, on my own terms.”
Luffy grinned, as if that answer satisfied him completely. “That’s awesome! You’re awesome!” he shouted, pumping his fists.
Buggy grumbled something about “traitors” and “untrustworthy ex-soldiers,” but no one paid him any mind. Crocodile leaned close, his voice low, smoky, meant for your ears only.
“You handled that well,” he murmured. “Almost too well. Careful, woman—you keep talking like that, they might think you’re more dangerous than me.”
Your lips tugged into a grin, pulse skipping as his golden gaze lingered. “Maybe I am.”
For once, he didn’t argue. He just laughed—a deep, rich sound that carried across the deck, startling more than a few hardened criminals into silence.
And in that moment, as the sea carried you toward war, you realized something terrifying: even surrounded by chaos and death, standing next to Crocodile almost felt like home.
--
Marineford was a hurricane of steel, fire, and fury. Cannons roared, the ocean itself split beneath Whitebeard’s might, and the air reeked of blood. You stood at Crocodile’s side, blades and fists moving in tandem with his whirling sand. Wherever he struck, you followed, your presence a constant anchor in the chaos.
The Marines noticed.
It started as whispers among the ranks—astonishment that you were there, fighting against the uniform you once wore. Their eyes widened at your strikes, each one felling a soldier like a hammer through glass. They’d trained you, once. They’d disciplined you, broken you down and built you back up into their vision of justice. And now that power wasn’t theirs anymore.
It was his.
A Vice Admiral shouted your name across the battlefield, disbelief choking his voice. “You should’ve been one of our best! You could’ve worn the coat of justice! Why throw it away—for him?!”
Your answer was your blade cutting the words from his tongue. You didn’t falter, didn’t explain. You simply turned your head toward Crocodile, and for a fraction of a second, your eyes met. That was enough.
On the other side of the carnage, Crocodile’s mouth curled around a cigar, smoke hiding the small, feral smile tugging at his lips. The Marines thought they were watching a traitor. He knew better. They were watching a revelation.
The world was seeing you as he always had. Not a discarded soldier. Not a shadow at his heel. But power—unyielding, undeniable—devoted to him and only him.
Luffy, in his usual blunt way, shouted between blows. “She’s amazing! You can’t beat her!” His laugh rang even in the madness. “Crocodile, you’re lucky she’s on your side!”
Crocodile’s golden eyes narrowed, but not with anger. For once, he didn’t disagree with the boy. Instead, he turned his back on the Vice Admirals who cowered from his sandstorm and said low, almost like confession:
“I don’t need luck. She’s mine.”
The words burned hotter than any cannon fire. They weren’t barked like an order, or sneered like a claim. They were steady. Certain. The same way he spoke of his empire, his power, his unshakable control.
And as the battlefield raged on, Crocodile’s laughter rolled through the smoke. For the first time in years, he wasn’t the only one making the world tremble. He had you beside him—and every Marine in sight realized just what they’d lost.
--
The war ended in blood and silence. Whitebeard fell, Ace was lost, and Marineford’s stone walls dripped with the weight of history. When Crocodile’s ship pulled away from the chaos, you leaned against the railing, body aching from every clash. The sea stretched black and endless ahead, a mirror to the smoke still curling from the horizon.
Word was already spreading.
Whispers slithered through the underworld, riding on the backs of birds and den-den mushi transmissions. Crocodile’s name had always been heavy, but now it carried another. Yours. The Marine who turned. The warrior who fought with him step for step, whose strikes matched his storms, whose devotion was etched into every scar you gave the Navy.
It wasn’t long before the whispers turned into open talk. “Crocodile and his right hand.” “The pair who carved through Marineford like it was nothing.” “The woman the Marines lost, the woman who chose him.”
On deck, the men who’d followed Buggy gawked openly, muttering about how you’d gutted Vice Admirals like fish. Jinbei had inclined his head respectfully before parting ways. Even Straw Hat, loud and obnoxious as always, had waved wildly and shouted, “See you again, super strong lady!” as if you’d been an old friend.
But it was Crocodile’s reaction that seared into you.
He stood at the prow, coat whipping in the sea wind, his cigar glowing faintly in the dark. When he turned, his gaze was golden steel, locked on you with a weight that made your knees weak.
“You realize what you’ve done,” he said, smoke curling from his lips. “The whole world’s seen it now. They know you’re mine.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a verdict.
You stepped closer, boots firm on the deck, meeting his stare without flinching. “I’ve always been yours. Marineford just made it official.”
For once, his smirk softened into something else. Something almost human. He exhaled, slow and deliberate, and his hook brushed against the railing near your hand, close enough to feel the metal’s chill.
“Good,” he murmured, low enough that only you could hear. “Because if they hadn’t realized it yet… I would’ve made sure they did.”
The ocean roared around you, endless and free. And as his shadow fell across yours, you knew the world was right to whisper. Sir Crocodile had clawed his way back into legend—but he wasn’t alone anymore.
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