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)
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vergil being extremely possessive and clingy is something my brain loves to drown in,,
he would definitely be the type of man to leave his clothes scattered around the place, in hopes of eventually seeing them on you,, the thought of your body, scattered with his hickeys and love bites underneath an item stained with his core essence belonging to him would send his mind into a frenzy,,,
no doubt he’d also try to find a sweet, dainty necklace with a v pendant and gift it to you so innocently, knowing he would like to mark and brand you for eternity only for his own pleasure,,
hiiii omg i love your writing sososo much i went on like a binge reading thru ur whole blog😭😭 i wanted to request a vergil x half angel reader! preferably fem feader and lots of fluff and hurt/comfort. thank youuu!!!!
Hi friend!! I just wrote something similar!
Feel free to request again if this didn't fit your needs ;p
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I love your Dante x reader fics they r sooo good!!! Could I maybe request a dante angst fic with a reader who helps out with devil may cry but has health issues and tends to overwork themselves :3 masc preferably
Don’t forget to drink water and take breaks!!
- 💫 anon
Thanks for your support!! I did my very best and I hope you like it! <3
Sit Down
Dante x masc!reader
The first time Dante noticed, he didn’t say anything. It was late, the shop was closed. One busted lamp glowing over Nico’s abandoned pile of tools while rain tapped against the windows. You were standing at the kitchen counter sorting receipts into piles Dante had promised to organize three months ago. Your shoulders looked tight. They’d been that way all day.
Dante sat sprawled on the couch with a pizza box balanced on one knee, watching you through half-lidded eyes. You paused with a paper in your hand, pressed two fingers against the edge of the counter, then quietly inhaled through your nose like breathing suddenly took effort. Three seconds later you went right back to sorting.
Dante said nothing. He figured maybe you were tired. It's common to get tired in this particular line of work. Then it happened again. And again. And again. You’d go still for a second, brace yourself against a wall or table, close your eyes like you were waiting for something to pass, then carry on like nothing happened. Every single time.
“Hey.” Dante called softly.
You looked up from the sink.
Dante leaned against the doorway holding two mugs of coffee. “One for you.”
“You’re bribing me?” you questioned him.
“Correct.”
You dried your hands on a towel with a small teasing eyeroll and took the mug. It was slightly too hot. Exactly how he liked it.
You took a sip. “Thanks.”
He watched you over the rim of his own. “You sleep at all?”
“Some.” you hummed out from behind the mug.
“That wasn’t a yes.” he frowned faintly.
“It wasn’t a no.”
“Smartass.” he huffed.
You smirked faintly, but Dante noticed how pale you looked under the kitchen light. How dark the circles under your eyes had gotten. How your hand trembled just slightly when you set the mug down.
You immediately changed the subject. “How much did Morrison's client pay?”
By the time it got bad, you were halfway through mopping blood and demon guts off the front office floor. A nasty cleanup after a job. Nero and Nico had already left, Vergil was somewhere doing whatever Vergil does, and Dante was tossing broken furniture into a pile near the entrance.
You were wringing out the mop bucket when the room tilted, hard, when your grip slipped. Water sloshed over your boots, the floor lurched sideways. You caught yourself on the desk before hitting it face-first. The mop clattered loudly against the tile.
Dante looked up instantly. “Hey-!”
“I’m fine.” Your voice thin and the excuse flying out of your mouth too fast. One hand white-knuckled against the desk edge.
Dante dropped the chair leg he’d been holding. “Whoa.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re not okay.” he pressed.
You tried to stand upright, and your knees nearly folded. Dante crossed the room in three long steps and caught your elbow before you went down. “Easy.”
“I’m fine, Dante.” you hissed.
“Quit sayin’ that.”
“I just stood up too fast.” you brushed him off.
“Bullshit.”
His hand stayed locked around your arm, steady and warm. You hated how weak your legs felt. Hated that Dante was seeing it. Hated that you couldn’t seem to catch your breath.
“Let go,” you muttered.
“No.”
“Dante.”
“Nope.”
You tried pulling away. The motion made your vision blur. Dante swore under his breath. Then his grip shifted, firmer this time, guiding you toward the couch.
“I can walk.”
“Great. Walk to the couch.”
“I still have to finish the floor.”
“The floor can cry about it.” He says dragging you around the side of the couch.
“Dante-”
“Sit down.” he interrupts.
His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clean through yours. Sharp enough that you actually stopped arguing. He eased you onto the couch, your hands shaking. You tucked them under your thighs before he could see. Too late.
Dante crouched in front of you. Elbows on his knees. Watching. Not joking anymore, not smiling. He was completly focused on you.
“When were you gonna tell me?”
You frowned. “Tell you what?”
“That you feel like shit.”
“I don’t feel like shit.”
He stared.
“…Okay. Maybe a little.” You sighed.
“A little.” He dead panned.
“Dante-”
“How long?” You looked away. That told him enough. His jaw tightened. “How. long.”
“…A while.”
“A while meaning days?”
Silence.
“Weeks?”
You rubbed a hand across your face. “…Months.”
Dante went quiet. Rain tapped against the windows. Somewhere upstairs floorboards creaked. He sat back against the coffee table with both hands over his face. When he spoke again, his voice was lower.
“Months.”
“It’s manageable.” you mumbled out.
“You almost passed out.”
“But I didn’t.”
“You caught yourself on the damn desk.” Dante pointed out.
“That doesn’t count.”
“That absolutely counts.” he argued.
You didn’t answer. Dante looked at you again. Really looked. And there was something in his expression now you didn’t see often. It wasn't anger... it was closer to frustration.
“You should’ve told me.”
You swallowed. “I didn’t wanna make it a big thing.”
“You collapsing on my floor is a big thing.”
“I’m handling it.”
“No,” Dante said quietly. “You’re enduring it.”
You stared at the stained floor.
Dante exhaled hard and leaned forward, forearms on his knees. “Why do you keep pushing until you drop?”
“Because stuff still needs to get done.” you laughed humorlessly.
“So let somebody else do it.”
“There isn’t somebody else.”
“There’s me.”
You finally looked up. Dante was already watching you. Completely serious.
“There’s always me.”
Your throat tightened unexpectedly. You looked away again. He stood and went to the kitchen. He came back with a bottle of water and one of the old blankets from the hallway closet.
“Dante…” you took the bottle reluctantly.
He threw the blanket over you anyway. “You’re freezing.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
You were. You pulled it tighter around yourself. Dante dropped into the armchair across from the couch, arms folded, watching like he expected you to bolt the second he blinked.
An hour later the office lights were dimmed, rain still tapping the windows. You were half-asleep under the blanket with your head against the couch arm. Dante sat nearby pretending to read a magazine upside down.
“You’re still awake?” Your voice came rough with exhaustion.
“Yep.”
“You don’t need to babysit me.”
“Not babysitting.”
“Then what.”
He set the magazine aside. “I'm makin sure you stay put.”
“Bossy.” you huffed tiredly.
“Occupational hazard.”
You smiled faintly. Then winced when sitting up too fast.
Dante was beside you immediately. “Easy.”
“I’m okay.”
“Yeah, I’m banning that sentence for a while.”
You leaned back again. “…Sorry.”
“For what?” Dante frowned.
“For not saying anything.”
He leaned against the couch beside you. For a moment, neither of you spoke.
“You don’t gotta earn your place here by working till you fall over.” Dante answered softly, making your chest tighten. He kept going. “You help out because you want to. Because you care.”
You stared down at the bottle in your hands.
“But if you’re hurting, if something’s wrong and you hide it until you’re barely standing…” He exhaled. “That scares the hell outta me.”
The words hit harder than expected. You glanced over. Dante wasn’t looking at you now, just the rain on the window, his jaw tight, hands clasped loosely between his knees. Suddenly you realized he had been scared. Scared because he’d turned around and seen you nearly hit the floor.
“…I didn’t mean to.” Your voice came quiet.
“I know.”
“I just didn’t want to be a burden.”
That made Dante look at you immediately. His expression softened into something tired and aching. “You’re not.”
You said nothing. He nudged your knee with his.
“Not even close.” Dante said as he stood and reached for the blanket where it had slipped from your shoulder, pulling it back around you. His hand lingered briefly at the back of your neck, warm and steady. “Now get some sleep.”
“What if I say no?” you murmur, holding eye contact.
“Then I throw you over my shoulder and lock you upstairs.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Wanna test it?”
You looked at him. Took in the serious set of his mouth despite the teasing. Then sank deeper into the couch. “…Maybe later.”
“That’s what I thought.”
He switched off the lamp beside the desk, the office falling softer in darkness, rain still drumming against the glass, and Dante stayed in the chair across from the couch long after your breathing evened out.
hiii i dont know if youll see this but could you do halfangel!reader x vergil secretly dating or something like that? its completely up to you for the plot but i lovee the concept of demon x angel and i prefer fluff and heavy angst!! tyy <333
What Happens Behind Closed Doors
Vergil x half angel!Reader
Warnings: fluff, Lady mentioned, Dante mentioned, you two sneaking around like teens, you don't live at the shop you have your own apartment
Sneaking around with Vergil should not have been possible. Vergil was... many things. Powerful, disciplined, emotionally unavailable to a medically concerning degree, but subtle? Not even remotely. Not when it came to you.
The others didn’t notice at first. Mostly because nobody expected Vergil of all people to be secretly dating someone or dating someone in general. Especially not someone like you.
Bright where he was sharp-edged. Warm where he was cold. Your presence carried that strange, unmistakable celestial calm that demons either found soothing or deeply unsettling. A gorgeous half-angel. Dante once described standing next to you as, “Like being hugged and judged at the same time.” You took it as a compliment.
Vergil, somehow, liked it. Not openly, of course. Never openly. But privately was different. It started with late-night conversations after missions, silent company in the shop when everyone else had gone to sleep, you patching wounds he insisted weren’t serious, Vergil standing too close while you worked.
Then it evolved into hand against yours, his forehead resting briefly against your shoulder. The kind of affection that felt impossibly precious because they came from him and the sneaking around somehow made it worse. Or better.... probably both. Because Vergil refused to call it sneaking.
“We are exercising discretion,” he’d said once.
“You literally climbed through my window at two in the morning.”
“The hallway floorboards are loud,” he insisted. “They are not sneaky.”
You’d laughed so hard he almost left immediately out of irritation.
The worst part was how good Vergil is at hiding things. Terrifyingly good. Nobody questioned him disappearing for hours because that was normal behavior for Vergil. But you? You were apparently incapable of acting natural afterward. Especially when he’d spent the last hour quietly kissing you breathless against the shelves in the Devil May Cry library while pretending he wasn’t touch-starved.
You walked downstairs glowing (literally glowing faintly beneath your skin) and immediately froze when Lady looked up from cleaning one of her guns.
“…Why are you glowing?”
Your soul nearly exited your body. “I’m not.”
“You are absolutely glowing.” she accused.
From behind you, Vergil descended the stairs with perfect composure. Lady’s eyes narrowed immediately between the two of you.
“…Why do you both look weird?”
“We do not,” Vergil said smoothly.
“You look like somebody told you emotions are illegal.” she smirked.
“Irrelevant.”
“And she,” Lady continued, pointing at you, “looks like she just got kissed stupid.”
You choked violently. Vergil went completely still beside you. Lady’s eyes widened slowly. “…No way.”
“No way what?” Dante yelled from another room.
“NOTHING,” you answered immediately.
Lady looked between you and Vergil again. Then slowly, very slowly, a grin spread across her face. “Oh. my. god.”
Vergil turned and walked away instantly. That cowardly bastard.
“VERGIL.” Lady sounded delighted. “VERGIL, GET BACK HERE.”
He did not. You buried your face in your hands while Lady laughed herself breathless.
“You two are SO bad at this,” she said.
“We are not together,” Vergil called from upstairs.
Lady cackled louder. Still, somehow, nobody had concrete proof. Mostly because Vergil became even more careful after that. Which honestly should’ve been impossible. But suddenly he was appearing silently in your room at impossible hours, standing outside the shop waiting after missions, and brushing against your hand only when nobody was looking. Like now.
Now you were currently sitting in Vergil’s room above Devil May Cry while he kissed you like he was trying to make up for every word he never said aloud. His hands rested at your waist, steady and grounding while one of yours curled into the front of his coat and into the hair on the nape of his neck. The room was quiet except for your breathing.
Vergil kissed differently than people would expect. It was like every bit of affection was being given with terrifying precision. Which made it significantly worse for your heart. You smiled softly against his mouth.
“You know,” you murmured, “normal couples don’t have to hide in bedrooms like teenagers.”
Vergil’s eyes opened slightly. “We are not hiding.”
“We are absolutely hiding.”
“I simply prefer privacy.” he shrugged.
“You threatened Dante with bodily harm if he knocked on this door.”
“A reasonable precaution.”
You laughed quietly. Vergil looked at you for a long moment after that with that calm, unreadable gaze softening just slightly around the edges the way it only ever did with you. Then he kissed you again. Slower this time, gentler. One of his hands moved upward, thumb brushing along your jaw with surprising care.
The faint golden glow beneath your skin brightened instinctively at the touch. Vergil noticed immediately, his face twisting into awe. He always reacted to your angelic traits like that. It fascinated him.
“You glow when you’re emotional,” he said softly.
“You say that every time.” you giggle.
“And each time, it remains true.”
You smiled helplessly as you leaned in for another kiss. God, you were doomed.
“HEY VERGIL, DID YOU-” The door slammed open.
Silence. Absolute silence. Dante froze mid-step, you froze, Vergil however did not freeze. Because Vergil, apparently, could stare directly into catastrophe without blinking. Dante looked between the two of you. Your position on Vergil’s lap, Vergil’s hand at your waist, your glowing face, how close your lips were to his.
“…WHAT.”
You immediately buried your face into Vergil’s shoulder.
“You failed to knock.” Vergil looked profoundly irritated.
“YOU’RE MAKING OUT WITH AN ANGEL.”
“A half-angel,” you corrected weakly from where your dignity had gone to die.
“THAT’S THE PART YOU CORRECTED?!”
Vergil exhaled slowly through his nose. “Dante.”
“No, no, hold on, I need a second.” Dante pointed aggressively at both of you. “Since WHEN is this happening?!”
You could physically feel Vergil getting more annoyed the longer Dante talked, which unfortunately made this funnier. Your shoulders started shaking slightly with suppressed laughter.
Dante noticed immediately. “Oh, you think this is FUNNY.”
“A little,” you admitted through small giggles.
“You’re encouraging him!”
Vergil looked unimpressed. “I require no encouragement.”
“That somehow makes this worse,” Dante said as he paced dramatically across the room. “I can’t believe this. I leave for ONE hour-”
“It was twenty minutes,” Vergil corrected.
“-and I come back to forbidden romance?!”
You blinked. “Forbidden romance?”
“You’re all starry and glowing and he’s…” Dante gestured vaguely toward Vergil. “…like That.”
“Like what?”
“Like a tax-paying thunderstorm.”
“Neither one of you pay taxes,” you deadpanned. "And what does that even mean?"
“It means moody.” Dante rolled his eyes.
“I am not moody.” Vergil frowned slightly.
Eventually Dante crossed his arms dramatically. “So what, you’re just together now?”
A quieter silence followed. Because despite all the chaos, that question kinda mattered. You glanced toward Vergil carefully, waiting for an answer. Vergil met your gaze briefly before looking back at Dante.
“Yes.”
Your chest tightened instantly.
“…Huh,” Dante muttered. "Y'know big brother, I never thought you had it in ya."
Vergil’s hand settled against your back again naturally, unconsciously protective. And for a second, Dante simply looked at the two of you sitting there together. At how calm Vergil seemed. How your light curled warmly against all that sharp darkness without fear.
Then Dante groaned loudly. “Oh my GOD, you’re actually in love.”
You immediately choked. Vergil’s expression went flat. “Dante.”
“YOU ARE.” Dante pointed accusingly. “That’s why you’ve been acting weird for months!”
“I have not.”
“You let her steal your book.”
A pause. “It was not stolen from me…she asked....”
“You hate when people touch your books.”
Another pause. “She returned it.”
You finally lost the battle and started laughing outright. Vergil looked down at you, deeply unamused. “You are not assisting, my love."
“You’re quite the man, Vergil,” you informed him affectionately.
Dante made a horrified noise. “UGH. Okay. Nope. I’m leaving before anymore sappy shit happens.”
“You caused this situation,” Vergil reminded him.
“And I regret EVERYTHING,” He pointed at the door dramatically while backing out. “Keep the weird forbidden celestial demon flirting behind locked doors!”
Then he paused. “…Actually no, that sounds worse when I say it out loud.”
“It truly did,” you agreed.
Dante shuddered. “I need pizza after this.” Then he narrowed his eyes at Vergil. “And if you break her heart, I will hit you with a chair.”
Vergil looked unimpressed. “You have attempted that before.”
“Yeah, but this time it’ll be like... worse or something I don't know.”
Then Dante disappeared downstairs muttering to himself about “angel boyfriend nonsense.”
Silence settled again. You looked up slowly. Vergil was already looking at you.
“…Tax-paying thunderstorm?” you asked.
“I dislike him.”
“Nooooo. That's your brother. You love him.”
Vergil sighed faintly. “…Unfortunately.”
You smiled softly and leaned forward, pressing another kiss briefly against his mouth. Vergil let you.
“IF I HEAR KISSING AGAIN, I’M PLAYING LOUD MUSIC,” Dante yelled from downstairs.
Vergil closed his eyes briefly. “…I may kill him.”
2012 TMNT X SUSIE/ UNDYEN LIKE READER (gifs just in case you don't remember what they look like) skip if you don't want to do this ok
Middle school flashbacks to being obsessed with Undyen bc she was my queen. Like that's mother.
2012 TMNT x Undyne-like reader
Leonardo
Leo is simultaneously impressed by you and deeply stressed by you. The first time he saw you charge a mutant yelling “FACE ME, COWARD,” he genuinely thought you had no survival instinct.
Turns out you do have one. You just ignore it. He admires your determination a lot, though. You throw your entire heart into everything you do, and Leo understands that better than most people.
Sparring between you two gets INTENSE. Not angry intense, it's more like a competitive intense. You grin every single time he actually manages to knock you down.
“YES!! AGAIN!”
“…You’re... supposed to avoid that...”
You constantly try to hype him up after missions. “Your leadership was GLORIOUS.”
“You don’t have to announce it like that.”
“BUT IT WAS!!!!”
Leo secretly likes how straightforward you are. No mind games, no weird hidden meanings. If you care, you say it. If you’re angry, you say it. It’s refreshing and he really appreciates it.
You also absolutely lose your mind whenever he does something cool with his swords. “THAT WAS AMAZING.”
“It was a basic disarm.”
“AN AMAZING BASIC DISARM, I'LL SAY!”
He tries SO hard to stay composed when you aggressively compliment him. Sometimes he fails and smiles a little. You notice every single time.
You and Raph are the loudest people in any room immediately.
Half your interactions are basically:
“YOU WANNA GO?”
“YEAH, I DO.”
“AWESOME.”
The others think you’re fighting constantly. I mean, you are, technically, but it’s affectionate. You absolutely adore how strong he is. Not in a weird way. You’re just genuinely impressed every time he lifts something huge.
“YOUR POWER IS EXTRAORDINARY.”
“…Why do you talk like a medieval knight?”
Raph pretends your enthusiasm annoys him. It does not. He actually likes that you don’t get intimidated by him at all. You challenge him constantly with arm wrestling, sprint races, and rooftop jumping contests. One time you challenged him to see who could yell louder. Splinter banned both of you from doing it again.
You’re one of the only people who can calm Raph down during bad moods. Mostly because you never react fearfully when he snaps. You just stare at him and go: “You are upset. Do you wish to destroy something together?” It's weirdly effective.
Donnie is fascinated by you. Not just because of the spear. (Though he is obsessed with the spear.) He once asked if he could study it. You handed it to him immediately. He almost dropped it because it was WAY heavier than expected.
“HOW ARE YOU SWINGING THIS THING?!”
“WITH PASSION.”
You absolutely do not understand half the science words he says, BUT you listen VERY attentively anyway. Like he’s revealing the secrets of the universe. Which honestly boosts his confidence a lot.
Every time he invents something, you react like he cured all disease.
“YOU ARE A GENIUS.”
“Well, actua-”
“-A GENIUS.”
He gets flustered when you praise him too hard. You ask him a million questions during repairs. Most of them are things like:
“What does this button do?”
“Please don’t touch that.” You touch it. Explosion. Silence.
You and Mikey are a DISASTER together. Actually horrible for group stability. The energy levels become unbearable immediately. You encourage every bad idea he has.
“I bet you can jump off the railing.”
“I LIKE THE WAY YOU THINK, TURTLE-BOY.”
Leo has developed MULTIPULE stress headaches because of this.
You think Mikey is hilarious. Mikey thinks you’re the coolest person alive. You both get way too emotionally invested in games. Especially Mario Kart. There has been screaming. At one point, you stood up dramatically after losing and shouted: “THIS VICTORY IS BUILT ON LIES.” Mikey fell off the couch laughing.
You also hype him up constantly. Mikey says one funny thing, and you react like he delivered legendary comedy.
“HAHA!! YOUR HUMOR IS POWERFUL.”
“THANK YOU.”
He LOVES making you laugh because your laugh is super loud and contagious.
You both also share exactly one brain cell during missions. Mikey says: “Wouldn’t it be funny if-" And you’re already doing it. Somehow this results in success way more often than it should. Splinter finds this concerning.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
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.”
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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.
