#new dantes probably too

[bittertomato]

Me: Okay time to settle down as a Toaru fan for the time being!

FGO: Hey

Me: Oh no

FGO: Hey

Me: WHAT

FGO: We made Ordeal Call 2 actually worth the wait

Me: Oh come ON

[cheeriochat]

Hmmmm DMC headcannons 3!!!!

This one's a bit wordy

☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆

• Dante and Vergil are the type of twins that when they are close by, are touching in any way possible. Sitting together? Dante is leaning on Vergil. Standing together? Vergil has his arm resting on Dantes shoulder. Walking together? They keep bashing into eachothers side. They can spend time apart (obviously) but when they are close there is always some form of contact.

• Nero felt phantom pains where his hand used to be, but when his arm grew back they kind of just became ordinary pains. He wasn't sure if it was a side affect of growing a whole ass arm back or something but he was happy when they went away.

• I kind of think Kyrie would have depression. I mean she went through a lot and lost her parents and brother but she lived, so I feel like she would have survivors guilt but due to constantly being busy she wouldn't really have the time to process it. It's a sad headcannon but I feel like it just seems right :(((

• On a bit of a lighter note, I feel like Kyrie would have a good support system though. I mean she has Nero obviously, but also I think she would have Lady, Trish and Dante there for her and eventually Vergil too.

• Talking about Trish, Lady and Dante. I feel like Lady and Trish would go shopping Bayonetta 2 style, and have Dante carry all their stuff around. (He gets compensated for his work when they stop at a Cafe and he gets a parfait, although he doesnt mind helping his friends)

• Nero has a huge sweet tooth, but because of the kids, he can't keep anything to satisfy his need for sugar around long enough. Vergil likes to buy him sweet stuff though as a form of peace offering. He's found Nero likes Lemon Sherbets, Sour patch kids, and controversially, Liquorice.

• Vergil likes Hotpot and Shabu Shabu. I don't know, I just feel this in my soul.

• Dante is jealous that Vergil gets a tail and he doesn't. Vergil is jealous Dante's horns are fancier than his. They are both content with the wings that they have. (Also vergil has long skinny fangs with sharp teeth and Dante has wider, stubbier (but still as equally sharp) fangs with more "human" teeth)

[of-pale]

There are but two certainties in life: death and taxes. So it’s business as usual.

Nero walked into the shop, surprised to see Vergil in Dante's chair, sifting through papers, while Dante lounged lazily on the sofa flipping through a magazine.

"What's going on here?"

"Oh, you know, Vergil being Vergil,” Dante gestured dramatically toward his brother as if presenting a circus animal in a grand display. “He thinks he can do a better job at managing a demon hunting business. Not like I've been doing it just fine for decades.”

"Anyone with opposable thumbs could do a better job than you, brother," Vergil replied dryly, scrutinizing the atrociously messy paperwork and accounting. It didn't require a genius to see how badly Dante’s business would be in the red if it weren't for all the money Dante undoubtedly weaselled out of Lady. Still, that's money that has to be repaid, and Vergil didn't even want to think about the returns the loan shark hag expects of Dante.

What truly frustrated Vergil was knowing for a fact that Dante could do a better job at running the business. Annoying as it was to admit, Dante had always been better with numbers. Ever since they were kids, adding up numbers at lightning speed was as easy for him as reading was for Vergil. So this accounting mess? It was like Dante didn’t bother to put any effort in it. And hadn't for decades. From the looks of things, he even got enough jobs coming in to get by, so why…?

“Damn, I wish it was that easy and I could just hire a monkey to do it,” Nero shook his head. “This shit's boring as hell.”

Vergil couldn't help but let his frustration leak through, “Something for Dante to consider then, since it would do a better job than this.”

"Does that mean I can pay you in bananas, Verge?" Dante fired back with a grin.

"A considerable improvement, since you don't pay me at all.”

"Hey now, you get your cut at the end of the demon hunting jobs.”

“You mean the rightful pay earned for a job I complete by myself, from which you take a cut simply because you act as a broker of a broker?”

"Welcome to capitalism, bro. It's how things are run topside.”

"I miss hell already,” Vergil replied sarcastically, massaging his temples. “Please tell me you at least paid the taxes.”

"Hey, I may be the Legendary Demon Hunter, but even I don't mess with the IRS.”

"Wait, you do all the bookkeeping on paper?” Nero raised an eyebrow. “You know we live in the 21st century, right?”

"Eh, it's easier on paper.” Dante shrugged. “Especially if the occasional job needs to be kept off the books.”

“You just said you don't want to mess with the IRS.”

“Oh, if there's one thing scarier than the IRS, it's Lady when she's come to collect her due.” Dante got up from the sofa and sauntered over to his desk, where an open pizza box awaited. “A wise man picks his battles.”

“A fool sets himself up for them,” Vergil muttered, quickly realising the irony of his own words.

Dante grabbed a slice of pizza and took a curious peek over Vergil's shoulder at his notes. “Hm, you got the total amount wrong by a couple hundred. Right there.” He pointed at it before cheekily patting Vergil on the shoulder and continuing on his merry way back to the sofa.

Vergil growled demonically in pure frustration, fighting the very real urge to roll all the blasted papers into a ball and dump them in the bin.

[risingsunresistance]

hey you, do you wanna know the dungeons story but don't wanna read all those journal entries? well there is a FANTASTIC summary on youtube, complete with renders and everything :D it's also been put in chronological order for an easier read :]

[hairmetal666]

The note shows up in Eddie's mailbox cubby on Valentine's Day.

It's nothing fancy, loopy cursive handwriting on lined paper:

"I know this is probably silly but I can't go another day without saying it, and today seems appropriate for this kind of confession. Seeing you in the morning is the best part of my day. You're so gorgeous it leaves me breathless. I hope you don't mind if I don't leave my name. Just wanted you to know that you're beautiful."

His eyes fill with tears that he blinks back, a goofy smile stretching his mouth wide.

"You good there, Munson?" Robin Buckley asks.

"Oh, yup, yeah, all good." He laughs. "Just got one of those 'you're my favorite teacher Mr. Munson!' notes."

He squeezes the letter to his chest before slipping it in his pocket.

---

The worst thing about Eddie's new job is that someway, somehow, Steve-fucking-Harrington works here too. PE teacher, JV basketball coach, of-fucking-course. Once a douchebag jock, always a douchebag jock. What makes it all worse is that he's still the prettiest guy Eddie's ever seen.

---

The first week of March, there's a commotion in the hallway that has him rushing out of his room, ready to breakup a fight. He finds Harrington already there, holding Dustin Henderson and Will Byers by their shoulders. Troy Walsh and James Dante stand across from them, wearing matching snarls.

Of course Harrington is picking on little nerd kids; he knew it. But before he steps forwards to break it up, Steve speaks, voice low and angry. "You want to tell me what happened here, Troy?"

"Byers tripped. He really should watch where he's going," Troy says. James laughs.

Steve's glare goes even more icy, more disdainful (it's so fucking hot, Eddie hates it). "You want to take that again? And try being honest this time, or you're suspend from the team."

Troy splutters for long enough that Eddie finally notices Will's stricken face, the sketchpad and snapped colored pencils littering the linoleum.

"I saw you take those things from Will, and unfortunately, I'll have to call your parents and you will be responsible for purchasing a new sketchbook and pencils. You're also benched for the next four games."

The boys shout, but when Steve raises a hand they quiet immediately. "You want to complain more, or do you want it to be five games?"

"No, sir," they answer before scampering off.

Harrington faces Dustin and Will. "You boys okay?" he asks them.

"We're good, Mr. H," Dustin answers.

"Glad to hear it." Steve begins collecting Will's ruined belongings, stops to study one of the drawings.

"This is really good, Will."

Will flushes. "Thanks. It's my character for dnd,"

"Dnd? That's that game that El and Max are always talking about? With the character sheets and the dice?"

"Yeah!" says Dustin. "You know it?"

Steve's smile is a little bashful, and it tugs at Eddie's heart in a way he has to ignore. "Not much. Just from what the girls have said. You want to tell me about it?"

"Really?" Their eyes light up.

"Really. You can stop by the gym during lunch. Only if you want to, though."

"Cool," says Dustin.

He pats them both on the shoulder, and they hurry away, leaving Steve and Eddie suddenly alone.

Eddie should head back to his class, hasn't been needed in this situation at all, really, but before he can disappear, Steve spots him and his eyes widen.

"You need something, Munson?" Steve's cheeks go a faint pink.

He shakes his head, feels wrong-footed. "Uh, that was really cool what you did just there."

"They're really good kids," Steve says. "I know them a little. Used to babysit El Hopper." He slides his hands into the pockets of his khakis and, seriously, fuck Harrington for looking like that in a pair of Dockers.

"Babysitter, Harrington? Never thought I'd see the day. Or that you'd be the one defending a bunch of nerds," Eddie says. He means it teasing, but Steve's face warps into a frown.

"Y--yeah, I guess. I mean. I'm trying not to be that guy anymore, and Robin's really helped--"

"Shit, man, I'm sorry. That's not what I meant, at all--"

"--I feel terrible about all that shit I pulled back in school. That King Steve stuff? I was awful and you didn't deserve--"

"Steve!" Eddie cuts him off. "I forgive you. For everything." He looks down at his shoes. "For all I didn't want to believe it, you really have changed."

They're both pink faced now, avoiding each other's eyes. "Thanks," Steve says. "I should get going, but--for the future-- I really wouldn't mind--um--trying to be friends."

The grin that passes across Eddie's face is huge. "Yeah, Harrington, I'd like that."

Eddie has to run to make it to his classroom on time. He passes Dustin and Will and the rest of their gaggle of friends, rushing them along, but forgets all about it as he steps in front of his third period juniors.

---

He and Steve are...friendly now. They chat, they joke, they share smiles that have Eddie's heart beating too fast even though it's not like that. Turns out Steve is kind and funny (a little bit of a bitch too, but in a way that ties Eddie's stomach in knots), and a hell of a teacher.

---

His freshman are in small groups, peer-reviewing an essays, when Max Mayfield catches his eye. She's one of his favorite students and absolute trouble.

"What's up, Mayfield." He asks.

"Are you friends with Mr. Harrington?" She asks.

He chuckles. "Sure, Max, we're friendly enough. Why?"

She narrows her eyes, like she knows he's not being totally honest. "Oh, nothing. He just talks about you all the time."

He's blushing horribly and Max, and all of her friends, smirk up at him. "He does?" He chokes out.

"Mmhmm," Lucas Sinclair says. "Says he thinks you're really cool."

"Definitely one of the best teachers here," Mike Wheeler adds.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Okay, very funny, guys. How're your essays going?"

They answer, but before Eddie goes to help another group, Will says, "he really does like you, Mr. Munson. A lot."

El nods earnestly up at him. "It is true," she says. "I know him."

"Thanks, kids. I'll keep that in mind." He gives them a smile, tries not to let their words get to him. When he reaches the next group, though, he notices his hands are shaking.

---

Gifts start turning up in Eddie's cubby. It starts with a bag of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies from his favorite bakery. There's a small note that says "from your secret admirer," on the packaging. Every two weeks or so, something new shows up in his little mailbox; a woven friendship bracelet, a yellow rose, Hershey kisses, a delicately painted dnd figure that gives Eddie a small crisis because it's his own bard character, an Iron Maiden cassette, a bag of dice that almost brings him to genuine tears.

Eventually, he gets another note. This one is typed and reads: "I would love to have coffee with you 11am this Saturday at the Cafe on Main Street."

---

He walks into the cafe at 10:50am, wearing his favorite pair of ripped black jeans and a burgundy button-down, his hair pulled into a loose bun. He doesn't recognize anyone there.

Eddie gets in line, studies the menu, and the little bell above the door rings. He whips towards the sound to find none other than Steve Harrington in little wire rim glasses, a butter colored sweater, and jeans the man must have painted on, Jesus Christ. Honestly, the whole thing is enough to give Eddie a coronary (and to, embarrassingly, chub up in his own tight jeans).

"Steve?" He asks. He's overwhelmed with the (stupid, stupid) hope that it's been Harrington all along. "What are you doing here?"

"Henderson asked me to meet him. He around?"

"Uh, no?" Eddie feels heat creeping up his throat.

Steve shakes his head, as though he expected as much. "You alone? We could grab drink."

"I can't believe this." Eddie hides his face in his hands, knows it's gone horrifyingly crimson.

"What's wrong?"

"My secret admirer told me to be here now, so we could meet," Eddie's misery slices through his words. "I'm such an idiot."

"I--your--what?" Steve stammers.

He gathers himself enough to look Steve in his hazel eyes and ask, "I'm assuming it wasn't you leaving notes and gifts for me at work?"

And he expects Steve to say no. To laugh and ask why he'd ever do something like that, but instead, instead he flushes a deep red. "O-only one note."

"What?"

"I, uh," Steve clears his throat. "I left you a note. On Valentine's Day. I--we weren't friends yet, and I wanted you to know how much I liked you. It's --uh--it's pretty silly, huh? Robin's--"

"Steve," Eddie interrupts. He's going to tell Steve that he reads the note often enough that he has parts memorized; that it's the kindest thing anyone has done for him, but what he says instead is, "Dustin Henderson told you to meet him here at 11?"

"Yeah. Said he had something to show me."

Eddie remembers running into Will and Dustin and their friends that day in the hall, the weird conversation in class, the dice and the miniature. Something must click for Steve at the same time because his mouth drops, blush getting somehow deeper.

"Oh my god. Henderson! I'm gonna kill him. They figured out I had a crush on you."

"They WHAT?" Eddie says, loud enough that several looks are aimed their way.

"I'm so, so sorry, Eddie. Holy shit, this is so humiliating. You have to believe me, I had no idea they were doing this. God, I'm really starting to think it is possible to die from embarrassment."

"You have a crush on me," Eddie says instead of any of the dozens of helpful things he could say.

"Um. Yes?"

Eddie takes a deep breath, straightens his spine, and asks, "You wanna have coffee with me?"

"I'd really like that." Steve's return smile is so beautiful, it makes Eddie weak.

---

Eddie Munson is making out with Steve Harrington in the backseat of Steve's BMW. He and Steve spent the day together. They've kissed for so long that the sun has set, both of their lips are swollen, their skin red from stubble, and Eddie is nowhere near ready for the night to end.

Steve breaks away, gently pulling their mouths apart, but arms still tight around Eddie. "Hey, what kind of gifts were they giving you anyway? The kids?"

"Oh," Eddie blushes. "Uh, cookies, a dnd mini, lots of candy, a set of dice."

"Oh my god," Steve says, he pulls a little more away. "Oh my god, I'm going to kill her, Jesus Christ."

"Who are are you killing, sweetheart?"

Steve groans. "Robin. She was helping them. We found a set of dice at this little bookstore and she told me to get them for you, and--" he breaks off with a helpless, frustrated noise.

Eddie doesn't mean to, but he starts to giggle.

"It's not funny!" Steve says.

That only makes Eddie laugh harder. "Your best friend," he squeaks. "And a group of literal children set us up. That's hilarious, Harrington."

Steve's mouth drops and for a second Eddie thinks he'll be upset, but then he's giggling too, his whole face crumpling into it.

Steve pulls Eddie close once the laughter subsides, his eyes trained on Eddie's lips.

"We could pretend we didn't get together," Eddie manages to say.

"What, like, make them think they failed?"

"Yeah. We could tell them I got stood up, but you and I hung out. Had a bro day."

Steve giggles again, and it's the best sound Eddie's ever heard. "I'm absolutely on board with this plan, but you should definitely kiss me some more."

"Oh, yeah?" Eddie asks, his voice low. "And what'll I get out of it?"

"Why don't you get over here and see."

As if Eddie could turn down an invite that enticing. He slides a hand behind Steve's head, drawing him in, and they're kissing like they never stopped. It only been a few hours, but Eddie knows--without a doubt--he's already head over heels.

[devilmaymetalgear]

dante sparda x reader // vergil sparda x reader

gn reader // short domestic headcanons

a/n: first post on this blog, my request box is open for Dante and Vergil requests. Next post will have request box rules and who I plan on writing for

ᴅᴀɴᴛᴇ

- I think Dante would be very touchy with his partner, it's how he shows his affection. Anytime he can he has to have some part of him touching you.

- he'd be very cuddly, gentle giant kinda guy. And he's probably always warm too, cuddling up with him makes it damn near impossible to use any blankets without sweating like crazy.

- im a firm believer in Dante cant cook to save his life, but he loves to sit in the kitchen with you if you cook. All he does is sit there and gossip and grab stuff from the tall cabinets.

- favorite thing to think about personally is him scrambling to clean up before you come over, no matter how long you guys have been together. Lady and Trish know exactly when you're coming over due to finding him frantically cleaning so many times.

ᴠᴇʀɢɪʟ

- Vergil's not home as often as Dante is, so calm quality time with him is a rarity. I feel like it's not something he's ever really thought about as much, since he didn't really need somewhere to eat or sleep, so once you enter the picture it's a little new for him

- he likes to read to you, hold you close and just be in your presence. Just being around you makes him so happy it's almost scary to him. You just make him feel so weak.

- I think vergil has a general idea of how to cook, but obviously since he's never really had to bother he's definitely not the greatest. But he can at least cook a meal without setting off the smoke detector.

- I think his way of showing affection is acts of service. Physical affection I think would be pretty new to him as he probably hasn't felt the embrace of anyone since he was a boy and maybe the lady in red.

First time writing for these guys! I haven't done a full analysis of both their characters yet but I've been wanting to write something for them both for a while

[icycoldninja]

Headcanon of Sparda men + Sephiroth helping reader who has bird like wings on their back to groom their wings pls pls pls 🙏🙏🙏

Sure, sure! Enjoy!

Sparda boys + Sephiroth x Winged!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante has wings in his SDT, yes, but they are scaled, not feathered.

-He's never seen a person with feathered wings before; he's used to the scraggly, knobbly wings of inferior demons, so it's only natural for him to be extremely curious.

-He's like an excited 4 year old, asking tons of questions, poking, prodding, tugging, and even sniffing at your wings.

-Eventually you get him to calm down and talk him through the process of cleaning and grooming your wings.

-Dante helps you get the places you can't reach, jabbering swwy excitedly as he does. This whole experience is so new, and he's in shock.

-He'll definitely want to help you again, and probably has another slew of questions for you.

■ Vergil ■

-Like Dante, Vergil is not used to seeing humans with beautiful, feathery wings like yours, and regards them with suspicion.

-He keeps away from you and your wings, as he's sure they are important to you. His surprise was monumental when he learned you wanted him to help you groom them.

-Vergil was very nervous handling your wings. They looked so delicate and fragile, as if they would snap in half if he handled them too roughly. He did next to nothing the entire time, worried he would hurt you.

-After a while, you grew a bit frustrated with how useless he was being and told him that your wings were as strong as, if not stronger than bone, and that they were very unlikely to break under his grip.

-With this reassurance, Vergil gripped your wings more tightly and wasn't afraid to snip away protruding feathers.

-Turns out, he had a lot of fun, and would definitely help you again sometime in the future, should you need him.

□ Nero □

-Nero vaguely remembered helping V groom Griffon's feathers a while back, but all he really did was hold the bird down.

-He wasn't sure what to do with a human who had giant feathery wings, but figured you would teach him.

-Nero is a fast learner who adapted quickly to the situation, picking up the techniques and following your directions quite well.

-He made plenty of wisecracks the entire time, too, commenting on how you're Hawkman/Hawkgirl or something like that.

-You guys had a lot of fun, and at the end of the day, your wings were smooth, neat, and squeaky clean.

-Nero wants to do it again, so the next time your wings need grooming, let him know.

● V ●

-V has had plenty of experience grooming Griffon's wings, so this is nothing new.

-He was surprisingly unsurprised when he saw your wings, acting as if a winged human was completely normal.

-He knows what he's doing and cleans up your wings very well, perhaps even better than you do.

-He also went on a long ramble about the best cleaning supplies for different kinds of feathers, encouraging you to go to the pet store and look for the ones he recommends.

-You agree and the two of you head to Petco the next day, spending the entire afternoon looking at feather cleaning products.

-You guys had fun; V is very competent and you are more than willing to listen to his advice. 10/10, you would let him do it again.

♡ Sephiroth ♡

-Now, Sephy over here is very experienced in the art of wing grooming because he has a giant wing himself.

-He thinks yours are beautiful, possibly better looking than his, and his perfectionist mind wishes he had the symmetry of two wings like you did.

-He's like a hair stylist, but for wings, knowing exactly what to do, where to do it, and why.

-Though normally very quiet, Sephiroth won't shut up while grooming your wings, yammering on about different techniques, explaining what he's doing, etc. He's only ever done this to himself, so finally having someone to share the experience with is life changing.

-You guys often groom each other's wings because it's fun, like your special version of self-care night.

-He loves helping you take care of your wings, and you love helping him take care of his. It's now a monthly tradition.

[the-marshals-wife]

New Horizons (Arthur Curry x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: Requested by @dantes-devil-huntress. I can't believe this is my first Aquaman fic! This was so much fun to write, I hope you enjoy!

Premise: Trying to figure out his place in the world as the newly crowned king of Atlantis, Arthur meets someone who may just help him find the answers he looking for.

Description: Arthur Curry/Aquaman x Fem!Reader (Human), meet-cute fluff! | Warnings: alcohol, mild language | Setting: AU w/o Mera endgame, before The Lost Kingdom | Word count: 3,468

Edit: here's my Orm Marius x Reader fic for my fellow Orm girlies ;)

Gif credit: user jasonmomoaonline

Imagine Arthur giving you shelter when you're stranded in a storm, and discovering his true identity

Getting stood up for your date had been the worst part of the night, until the moment you got into your car. Instead of the engine turning over and sputtering to half-life like usual, it only stalled.

"You have got to be kidding me," you say, gripping the steering wheel and turning the key until you thought it might snap, "Come on, come on, come ON!"

Throwing open your door, you pop the hood and stumble back out into the chilled night. You mutter curses under your breath as you survey the labyrinth of steel and hoses before you.

"At least nothing's on fire this time," you mutter, rolling your eyes.

You step back and stare at the bucket of bolts the salesman had called "like new." Besides coming to this bar, buying this car was quite possibly your biggest regret. It wasn't quite a lemon, but it wasn't a Rolls either. And most of all, it was all you could afford.

You exhale, glaring up at the flickering light of the bar's neon sign. The last thing you wanted to do after waiting nearly two hours alone like a fool was show your face inside again. You retrieve your phone from your back pocket, just to see the blinking bars in the top corner. No service.

"Wonderful," you groan.

Like a bad joke, thunder rolls in the distance. You look up to see the lightning flashing on the horizon across the bay. The brisk, salt air rises up from the water and cuts right through you.

"Could this night get any better?!" you lament, an angry shriek escaping your lips as you kick the front tire.

"Excuse me, Miss?" a voice from behind interjected.

You jump and turn to see a man approaching, nervous smile on his bearded face. You appraise him wearily: tall, dark, and not at all lacking in style, clad in both leather and jewelry. He looked a sight better than the drunken fishermen you'd observed stumble about the bar, which you concluded was about ninety-percent of the clientele. Even from where he stood, he certainly seemed to smell better.

"Uh, I don't mean to interrupt, but you sound like you might need some help," he offers hesitantly.

Despite your initial scare, something about him puts you at ease.

"Oh, um...yeah, actually" you smile embarrassed, tucking your hair behind your ear, "My stupid car won't start. Again."

"Mind if I take a look?" he asks, pointing.

"Would you? That would be great, honestly," you say, folding your arms against the cold, "I just had it in the shop last week. I have no idea what's wrong now."

He pats the fender as he circles around to the front, "Let's see what's got you all clammed up here, buddy."

"Your guess is as good as mine," you say exasperated, stepping to stand behind him a ways.

He chuckles and pushes up his sleeves, ducking underneath the hood. You take note of the intricate tattoos, realizing this friendly stranger was becoming more interesting by the minute.

"Hmm, nope. Not that," he says, craning his neck, "Not that either."

You bite your lip and sway on your feet, silently praying he could find the source of the problem. Any easy fix was probably too much to hope for, but your fingers stayed mentally crossed nonetheless.

"Ooh, maybe- no, definitely not," he says, followed by a clinking sound, "That should not be there."

"I really appreciate this," you say after a moment, peering over his shoulder, "I can change the wipers and put on a spare if I have to, but that's about the extent of my car expertise."

"No shame in that," he grunts, his voice strained, "Oof, now that might be a problem."

"Did you find something?" you dare to ask.

"These spark plugs are kaput. Like, 'not even a necromancer can bring them back' kind of kaput."

"The guy said they were fine!" you exclaim, "I knew I shouldn't have gone back to that place. Probably just took my money and laughed."

The man finally stands up and winces.

"And your alternator is on its last leg," he says with a grimace, "Even if you could get it to start, I wouldn't go more than five miles in this thing."

"Great. That's just wonderful," you sigh, shaking your head, "Well, thank you for looking. It'd have taken me forever to figure that out. Google only goes so far."

"No problem, wish I had better news for ya," he says, wiping his grease-tinged hands on his jeans before extending one towards you, "I'm Arthur, by the way."

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, Arthur."

"Nice to meet you too."

Despite your frustration, you couldn't help but grin. As Good Samaritans go, he was quite a handsome one. Something in the back of your mind whispered that you had seen his face before, but you couldn't place when or where.

Before you could speak again, a bolt of lightning strikes just across the harbor, followed swiftly by a crash of thunder.

Arthur looks off to the darkened horizon, his expression souring with concern.

"Storm's coming in fast," he observes, the sea breeze blowing through his long, sun-kissed hair, "Do you have someone you can call to come pick you up?"

He turn back to you, and only now do you notice just how rich and golden eyes his eyes are. For a few dizzied seconds, you forget to answer.

"Uh, not really. I'm pretty new to the area. I don't know very many people," you reply, feeling shy all of a sudden, "I can just call a Uber or something. If my service ever picks up."

"Yeah, definitely," he nods, clearing his throat, "They have a phone inside."

"Thank you again for helping me, Arthur," you say, starting to walk towards the door.

"I didn't really help, though..." he trails off, disappointment in his voice as you step past him.

Your hand is almost on the handle when he pipes up.

"Uh, look I know you don't know me, but my dad's place is just down the road from here. He's the lighthouse keeper. Him and my mom are actually away on little retreat, and I'm watching the place for them," he explains, "It's dry, warm, and definitely has a lot less drunk guys. You could wait there while the storm passes, if you wanted."

You turn back to him, trying to conceal your renewed hope, "I couldn't impose on you like that."

"Oh you wouldn't be. It's just me and the dog. He's probably getting sick of me at this point. He could use a visitor," he chuckles, "But I understand if you'd rather stay here. Strange guy at a bar invites you to a lighthouse on a dark and stormy night. Sounds like a horror movie, I know."

You laugh, and so does he, bringing some much needed levity.

"I'll bring you right back if you change your mind, just say the word," he adds, sounding truly sincere.

Almost everything in you was saying not to trust a man you'd just met, but your gut was telling you otherwise. There was more to the warmth in his eyes than just the color.

"Well, it does sound like the dog could use some company," you say thoughtfully.

Arthur smirks. "Oh yeah. There's been a Hell's Kitchen marathon on for days, and I'm pretty sure he's sick of listening to my Gordon Ramsay impression. I can't resist, love that guy."

"I might have to hear that for myself."

"Let's get you out of this weather, and we'll see what I can do about that, then," he says with a wink, "My ride is just over here."

Not even the chilled wind could overcome the warmth of your cheeks. The excitement in your chest grows with every step as you follow him across the sandy lot. The ride in question, however, soon comes into view, and the knot in your stomach tightens all the more.

"Oh boy," you say, staring at the motorcycle.

"You're not scared of bikes are you?" he questions, stepping alongside it and reaching into the black saddlebag.

"Not exactly," you hesitate, "I've just never been on one before."

He pulls out a red, half helmet and offers it to you.

"Don't worry, I won't let you fall off," he replies, amused.

You look between him and the headgear a moment before taking it.

"Besides," he says, swinging his leg over the seat, "All you have to do is hang on."

With no argument to make, and rain drops beginning to sprinkle down, you pull your hair back and fasten the helmet on. You nearly lose your balance trying to throw your leg over, having to grab his shoulder to steady yourself. He didn't seem to mind; you could have sworn you heard him snicker. You settle into the seat, heart racing from being so close to him. More anxious than ever, you lightly place your hands on his back.

"All good back there?" Arthur asks, a smile in his voice.

"All good," you repeat, unconvincingly.

"Alright then," he says, turning the key.

Seconds later, the motorcycle roars to life as he revs the engine. Arthur eases the bike back slowly, pivots out of the lot, and eases it up to the main road. The instant he accelerates, the force kicks you backward. You throw your arms around his torso, pulling yourself against him. Over the noise of the machine, you weren't sure if the rumbling in your ear that followed was thunder or laughter, but you figured was the latter.

With the bar now behind you, and the rain coming down harder with the increasing speed, you bury your face into his back and hold on tightly.

♆

The lighthouse comes into view just as the skies open up. Arthur maneuvers the bike up the slippery, sand driveway and quickly shuts it off. He gives you his hand as you climb off and leads you toward the house.

The helmet offers some protection from the downpour, but the wind blows the spray into your face as you squint to see. Lightning above illuminates the world like daylight as you scramble up onto the porch.

Arthur throws the front door open and lets you in first as you stumble inside the dark house. You take a few blind steps forward as he slams it shut behind him, thunder making the windows rattle.

"Man, someone must have really pissed off Thor," he laughs. His relief, however, is turned to exasperation as you hear a clicking sound followed by a sigh.

"Power's out. Awesome."

Still trying to catch your breath, you pull out your phone, struggling with wet fingers to use touchscreen. Finally the flashlight turns on, and Arthur throws his hand up over his eyes as you accidentally shine it right at his face.

"Sorry," you pant, pointing it down.

"No worries. That's a good idea, actually. I always forget about this thing," he remarks, grabbing his own phone and doing the same, "One second, I think Pops has some candles in the kitchen."

You nod as he disappears into the next room. Now remembering the dripping helmet on your head, you release the strap with your free hand and set it down on the mat beside the door. A shiver goes through you from your soaked clothes. You point your phone about the shadowy room to get your bearings, admiring the otherwise cozy living area. As you sweep the light downward, something large and metallic glints on the coffee table in front of the sofa and catches your eye. You move closer to get a better look, and then your heart drops to your feet. Lying beside a bag of jerky and the TV remote is a massive, gleaming trident of gold. A memory flashes through your mind of an article you'd seen weeks ago, with a fuzzy photo of an alleged aquatic hero holding a weapon just like it. The pieces come together all at once as you realize the identity of your host.

The very next second, you hear Arthur's approach. He returns with a lit candle in each hand and a blanket under his arm, only to find your expression of complete and utter shock.

"You...you're..." you stammer.

"Oof, I knew I forgot to put something away," he cringes, "My bad."

"You're the Aquaman," you gape, finding the words.

"Surprise," he says in a sing-song voice, flashing a nervous smile, "Yeah, I never really know how to bring that up.

You stare at him dumbfounded as he places the candles on the coffee table. "I can't believe it. Aren't you supposed to be like...well, in Atlantis or something?"

"I was, earlier this morning. Just about died of boredom in council meetings," he says matter-of-factly, proceeding to talk as if he had a desk job, "I'm kinda part-timing right now, between land and sea. It's complicated. I'm still new to the whole 'king' thing. Don't have all the kinks worked out yet."

"I'd imagine," you breathe, your mind still reeling.

"Here, figured you need this." He holds out the blanket, completely unphased by the previous subject, "Do you drink tea? I can make some for you."

You take the blanket and chuckle in bewilderment. "Um, sure. That would be great," you answer, "Thank you."

"One tea coming up," he smiles, "Uh, just make yourself comfortable, I'll get the fire going here a minute, after I find the dog. Pretty sure he's hiding under Pops' bed upstairs. He's terrified of storms. Ironic right? Lighthouse keeper's dog afraid of a little water."

"I don't blame him this time," you say, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders, "I think you were right about Thor."

As if on cue, another boom of thunder shakes the walls. You both burst out laughing.

♆

A few minutes later, you find yourself sitting on the floor in front of a roaring fire with a warm mug in your hands, finally beginning to feel dry. Having been unsuccessful in coaxing the dog into joining him downstairs, Arthur settles down beside you crossed-legged, damp hair tied up, trading the tea for a can of Guinness. Your thoughts rage like the storm outside as you stare into the flames, agonizing about what you should say.

Arthur speaks a moment later, saving you the trouble.

"Sorry about the power. I'll call you that cab as soon as it comes back."

"That's okay, I'm not in a hurry," you reply.

You look over at him hopefully, meeting his piercing gaze for as long as you can. Mere seconds pass before you bow your head, heart racing while you repress a smile.

"I'm uh, sure you've got some questions about all this," he ventures, rubbing the back of his head.

"Honestly, with the night I've had, meeting 'Aquaman' is par for the course," you smirk.

"I didn't mean to spring it on you like that. I guess you can understand why I don't lead with the whole King of Atlantis thing. Kinda makes it hard to keep a conversation going once people know you 'can talk to fish.' They don't really see you the same after that."

"Yeah, I think I'd probably keep that to myself too," you agree, the awe returning full-force, "Still, it must be amazing. I mean, you're basically ruler of the ocean, right? Or is it just Atlantis?"

"Eh, I mean there's the other kingdoms-"

"There's more?!" you blurt out, wide-eyed.

"Oh yeah. Xebel, the Fishermen, the Brine, a couple of defunct ones no one wants talks about. We got a few."

"And you're the ruler over all of them?"

He shrugs. "More or less. I mean, they each have their own ruler. But then I'm also over them? Kinda? I'm still figuring crap out, they didn't exactly give me a rule book on my first day. Plus I have to answer to this royal council and they've got sticks up their butts about everything I do and say," he groans, rolling his eyes, "I like to consider myself more of a 'protector of the deep' than a ruler. Sounds more cool, and less like an old fart with a crown."

You giggle, hanging on every his every word.

"And with this bad boy right here," he says, reaching behind him and patting the trident, "I command all life in the sea. The animals anyway. Between you and me, that's the best part."

"You definitely have a cooler job than me," you beam.

"It definitely has its perks. But most of the time, I'd rather be here," he sighs, punctuated by a swig of his beer.

A visible sadness washes over him as he looks into the fire.

"You aren't from Atlantis?" you question.

"No, I was raised by my father. My parents met on accident. My mother was queen of Atlantis, and she ran away from her not-so-nice guy fiancé. She got lost in a storm, and my father rescued her. They've always said it was..."

Arthur stops and turns his gaze towards you, realization in his eyes.

Your heart skips as you understand. "Fate?"

He nods thoughtfully. "Something like that."

You blink, letting him go on.

"Anyway, I know I have a calling to the sea, but the land is always going to be a part of me, you know?" His expression softens. "Here, I've always found everything I need."

His words linger in the air between you. You look down at your hands, your chest pounding.

He clears his throat. "Sorry, I know that was a lot of info."

"Just a little bit," you reply teasingly, "But your secret's safe with me, Arthur. I promise. I've got no one to tell anyway."

"Don't worry, I trust you," he says, waving his hand, "It's actually nice to have someone else to share it with."

"I'm honored that you did. I know it's not the same, but I do understand what it's like to feel that you don't belong," you confess, "I didn't fit in my 'kind' either. Moved out here to start over. I guess you could say I'm still trying to figure some crap out too."

He pauses in thought second before responding, "Do you mind if I ask you something, Y/N?"

"After everything I've asked you? I'd say it's definitely your turn," you chuckle, taking a sip of your forgotten tea.

"I saw you at the bar before you went outside. I couldn't help but notice that you were there by yourself..."

"You noticed correctly. I was supposed to meet someone for a date, but after saying he was on his way, he never showed. I tried to text him, but he blocked me. I don't even know why."

"Nothing like being stood up at some backwater bar," he concludes, frowning, "Well, screw that guy. He's a bum."

"Yeah, I figured that out too late," you agree, then give him a knowing look, "The evening wasn't a total loss. I did meet you, after all."

"That's true," he concedes, playfully stroking his beard, "I may be a half-breed rookie king, but I'm not a bum."

You snort and gesture to the television set on your right, "So much for your marathon though, huh?"

"Ah, that's alright. They were all re-runs anyway."

You raise your eyebrow. "Think I could still hear that impression?"

He holds a finger to his chin in mock deliberation, "Hmmm, have I had enough to drink for that?

"I don't know, have you?" You lean in with anticipation.

He flashes a sly grin. "Of course I bloody have," he declares in the most hackneyed attempt at a British accent you'd ever heard, "And you better listen up, because I'm about to tell you everything there is to know about how to cook a bloody good flounder."

Your sides ache with laughter as he continues to go on a tangent about how to properly sauté shallots and season the perfect demi-glace. The voice sounded nothing like the infamously tempermental chef, of course, but you still thought his attempt was cute. By the time he was yelling at his invisible staff for serving him raw fish, the storm outside had passed, and neither of you noticed.

As Arthur went to light the stove to warm up some "gourmet" SpaghettiOs, still boisterously carrying on as Chef Ramsay, your excited thoughts returned to the story about his parents. You couldn't help but wonder about your own stormy night, the man you had met, and how much of a hand fate had played in it. The horizon seemed so much brighter than before, and for the first time ever, you were grateful to have bought that car.

[viciousvortexx]

Some of my Vergil headcanons

just random headcanons about anything <3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

★ Vergil likes to leave gifts on places he knows you could easily find, like over the table, over your bed, in front of your door. He'll always do it before he's gone for a mission, and when he's back, will casually ask while you're talking to each other, “did you like the roses?”

★ Physical touch to him is something very intimate, no hugs or something like this unless you're close to him, he watches over his personal space.

★ Still talking about physical touch, there's nothing more intimate than holding someone's hand, this means how comfortable and close you're and how much you trust this person to let your guard down to relax and hold hands. Touching hands it's like a bridge to connect yourself with someone else. Also, this means he would love to caress the back of your hand, trace the patterns of your palm, kiss it...

★ Eye contact is also very important to him, it's noticeable how hard is for Vergil to keep eye contact on casual situations, even though he's trying his best. So when those crystal clear blue eyes are locked on yours, he won't take them away unless someone else appears, eye contact is powerful and can talk more than words.

★ He loves to do cleaning, taking off his coat to wear an apron instead.

★ When hugging, he'll place one arm around your waist while his free hand gently press your head to his chest, peting your hair.

★ Secretly sings his favorite songs when no one is around.

★ Organize his books by alphabetical order.

★ Definitely would use those silk pajamas sets with buttons.

★ About Vergil's phone: the brightness will always be too high or too low, the speakers are probably low cause he was watching cute and funny cat compilations on the van and he didn't want to bother, definitely there's a lot of accidental selfies he took by opening the camera and the ringtone is LOUD, really loud (he doesn't know how to change it properly and is ashamed to ask Dante or Nero since they'll probably make fun of him).

Plus: use a lot the thumbs up emoji after someone complained he only views the messages and doesn't say anything, so he started to use the thumbs up as a reaction.

★ He likes to make his tea the old way, doesn't like tea bags.

★ Call anything technological a "device" since those things are new to him and he's learning the names and how they work. “Nero, come here, my device is broken again.”

★ The only time you would see Vergil with his hair down is when it's wet or if he's too tired to groom it (like, can't even keep his eyes open), if not, he'll always groom his hair to make it look the way it is, he's a man of routine (and also it makes him look different from his twin, so that's why he isn't going on public with his hair down).

★ He loves classical music, but that doesn't mean he isn't open to discover new genres and tunes.

★ Vergil used to make dog ears on the pages of his books when he was a kid to continue reading it later, but he noticed it crumples the paper so stopped doing it.

★ He is extremely warm because of his demon nature, just like an walking oven baking cookies, that's why cats are always attracted by him, there's often cat fur on his coat, probably Vergil faced a kitten on the streets and it started to butt the head on his legs to feel his warmth.

★ Always have a pleasant smell, unless when he's back from a mission, that's why he takes so long in the bath.

★ Loves citrus fruits.

★ Vergil takes a lot of pictures of the sky and nature, he treasures them and shows to the ones he treasures the same way.

★ Won't tell anybody if he got hurt during a mission, waiting for it to heal by itself (this also happens if he get sick).

★ Heard Dante listening to dad rock once, after that he tried to listen to a couple of songs too and started to like it.

★ Knows a bit of Latin from old books he read once.

★ Vergil is passionate and enthusiastic about the things he likes, he can spend hours talking about it with that glimmer he has on his eyes when happy.

★ The same way he likes someone to listen about his interests, also likes to be the one who listens to it from others, he's a very good listener.

★ One of his hobbies is writing his own poems on yellowed rag paper with a feather pen (things he like to buy with his money), he keeps them hide inside a little box.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (II)

Chapter 2 : ‘Through me the way to the City of Woe’

Hi, everyone!!! Here we go for a second chapter! Drama is upon us, the plot is plotting! Let me also introduce you to Samantha, Andrew’s partner… I’m sure you’re going to love her a lot…

I hope you like this series! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 4510

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Through me the way to the City of Woe, Through me the way to everlasting pain, Through me the way among the lost. Justice moved my maker on high. Divine power made me, Wisdom supreme, and primal love. Before me nothing but things eternal, And eternal I endure. Abandon all hope, you who enter here.

Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy : Inferno, Canto III, 1321

Andrew was tired, but then he was tired all the time.

As he prepared himself a strong coffee that morning, Sam was busy on her phone, probably going through her social media or reading the news. It didn’t really bother him, he was quiet in the morning anyway, liked to start slowly, to emerge into the world in a silent and gentle way. He was naturally a night owl, it was a struggle every morning to get out of bed early. At least, before the new year of classes started, he could go to work later, no classes schedule early these days.

Elwood was sleeping again. After an early walk around the neighbourhood, the dog was back on his comfortable bed, curled in a black and white ball, softly snoring. Andrew looked at his dog with love, refraining from petting his head, choosing to let him rest instead. He was a good boy, he deserved all the sleep he wanted.

He thought of you as he poured some coffee in his favourite mug. The meeting to distribute classes for the upcoming year was today. Of course, there had been one already before summer, so lecturers could begin preparing their classes if they needed. But some new arrivals would change a few things, some negotiations between lecturers too. Andrew himself was going to switch a class with Colm, another professor from the English department, inheriting a class about Yeats’s poetry instead of biblical studies. If he wasn’t against some religious metaphors – and given the weight of religion in Ireland, Andrew reckoned that he could never escape from it anyway – he was happy to avoid teaching about it.

But you were new at Trinity, and he wanted you to enjoy yourself during your first year. Upon his arrival, Andrew had lacked a guide, someone who would explain to him how things worked, especially the more selfish and ruthless side of the institution. If Trinity was wrapped in traditions, it was also filled with professors who cared little about their colleagues thriving in their academic pursuits, especially if that meant compromising with their own wants. Some professors were kinder than others, more willing to compromise. He’d help you navigate through the meetings, and hoped you could get to choose your classes too…

“My mother wants to invite us on Sunday,” Sam broke the silence that covered Andrew’s kitchen. A blank silent, an emotionless one; neither uncomfortable of comfortable, one that was there to settle on the furniture and in the corners of the room and simply lay there, undisturbed.

“I can’t on Sunday, I’m helping Jon with his film project, and then I’ll have lunch at my parents’. You were supposed to come to lunch with me.”

Andrew turned to Samantha then, sipping on his coffee and grabbing an apple as a breakfast. She said nothing, but her frown spoke volume. She was annoyed, maybe even angry.

“It was planned, baby. I’m sorry, we can go next week.”

“I think I’ll go see my parents anyway,” she said, her tone cold and firm, the one Andrew knew meant that he had no chance of changing her mind. He heaved a sigh, rubbed at his tired eyes with the back of his hand.

“As you wish, I’ll warm my mom.”

“You’re really not coming with me?” she asked, and her eyes were throwing daggers at him.

Andrew bit on the inside of his cheek, his stare growing sterner as well.

“I had planned to spend time with my family, and my brother needs my help. I’ll come with you another time.”

We had planned to spend time with my family… but he didn’t say that out loud, unwilling to start an argument.

She mumbled something under her breath, turning to her phone again; something about ‘a useless film’, and Andrew didn’t want to hear her comment, he knew he wouldn’t like it.

“Won’t you be late for work?” she asked, her voice calmer again, but the remark annoyed Andrew anyway.

“I don’t have classes, and the meeting is at 1pm, I can take my time.”

She could have added a comment on his time blindness, but she didn’t, and he was grateful for it. He relaxed a bit thanks to that.

“Busy day for you today?” he asked, and she heaved a sigh in response.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll come over tonight. Besides, we might go for drinks with the guys from the tech company we’re working with at the moment. Do you remember? I told you about them.”

“Of course, I remember, honey,” he answered with a soft, tender voice.

“I still haven’t finished that bloody logo for them…”

Andrew was brought back to their university days then, when she studied art and he studied literature. When she longed to paint all day long and he fumbled through notebooks and broken guitar strings. When they both had dreams that were too big for them. They had made a choice, had decided to finish their degrees, and not to make the hardest of the sacrifices that would have opened the gates to a life filled with art. Andrew had changed major from music to English during his first year, had passed his exams instead of spending his time in a studio. Samantha had specialized in design and publicity, and had given up her brushes that painted the coasts of Ireland in favour of simpler shapes created on a screen. Andrew couldn’t say that he had regrets about it. He liked his life like this, on the outskirts of Dublin, sharing his love for poetry, writing his own poems, waking up most days by Samantha’s side, even if after all these years she still didn’t want them to move in together, and he couldn’t fathom why. He loved his job beyond measure, always finding a fascinating detail to study, something new to read that would shake his world. He still sang with friends when he felt like it, sometimes wrote music to fit his poetry. He had a full life, a happy one, he couldn’t complain, really.

He thought about the engagement ring he had bought once, when she wasn’t ready to get married. She had said no, it had broken something inside of him. But he loved her, he would be patient, he could wait, and anyway, that was years ago…

“You’ll do an amazing job, you always do,” he encouraged her, but she rolled her eyes.

“You’re too sweet sometimes,” her words were spoken as criticism, not as a compliment. He clenched his jaw.

“Anyway, I’ll be pretty busy too, today,” he said, even though she hadn’t asked about his plans for the day, but then she hardly ever asked. She listened when he spoke about it though, and that ought to be enough. “We have our final meeting to select the classes we’re going to teach. I’m a little worried for Y/N, though.”

“Why? I’m sure she can take care of herself.”

Sam’s tone was a little dry still, he wasn’t sure if she were jealous or simply still annoyed.

“Trinity isn’t always filled with the nicest people. A lot of academics are quite selfish sometimes. I want her to have a nice time teaching. She seems very nice. And I arrived only last year, I know how stressful this situation can be.”

Sam nodded, but didn’t seem convinced.

Andrew threw the core of the fruit in the bin, finished his coffee, washed his mug. He didn’t want to argue, didn’t want to fight. Still, for some reason, he really wanted to talk about you. He had been worried upon learning that someone would share his office now, and he was relieved to find that you were kind, smart, and everything but annoying. He hoped the two of you could become friends.

“Y/N said that she found a poster for the office too! Can’t wait to see what she’s chosen.”

“Nice,” Sam nodded, and Andrew knew she wasn’t paying attention anymore.

He let out a long exhale through his nose, and she didn’t notice. He grabbed his water bottle, crossed the room, stopped to drop a peck on her head as he walked by her.

“Have a nice day, babe. I love you.”

“You too. Love you.”

She didn’t look up from her phone, and it sounded automatic, the way she answered. Andrew remembered when they started dating, about seven years ago. Both in their early twenties, young and naïve and heads full of dreams. She used to stare at him for hours, she used to look him in the eyes every time she said she loved him, to make sure he knew she meant it. He wasn’t so sure she meant it every time she said it anymore…

He pushed the thoughts away; he reckoned that this was his busy, anxious brain talking. Instead, he put on his shoes and his denim jacket, grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He stopped thinking about Sam, and thought about you and the poster you had promised you would bring today, and he walked out of his flat.

The meeting was over, and you seemed happy. Actually, you seemed ecstatic. And it made Andrew happy as well.

He had managed to get the class about Yeats, as planned. He had helped you through the meeting, discreetly, in whispers, but it was enough for you to secure classes you were interested in teaching. This year, you would teach three classes bound directly to your research, a general introduction to 19th century English literature, another about revolutionary writings in which you planned on including a fair share of pamphlets about women’s rights, and another about 19th century novels. You were buzzing with excitement as you walked back to your office, chatting with Andrew and his good friend Colm.

“I have so many things to prepare, but also… I feel very confident in these subjects,” you grinned at the two men.

“You can’t be happier than Andy finally teaching only classes he wanted,” Colm laughed, bright and loud, throwing his head back like a child despite the fact that he was middle-aged man.

Andrew nodded, heaving a relieved sigh.

“I thought Lydia was about to make a scandal…”

“She didn’t want you to leave one of the difficult classes. You’re too popular a teacher for that.”

Andrew rolled his eyes.

“I definitely am not.”

“You are too! Students love him,” Colm added, turning towards you. “And I will easily admit he’s a good professor, great at explaining things, and always very calm. But let’s be honest, the fact that most of our students are attracted to him helps a lot.”

Andrew looked away, trying to hide that he was blushing, but you laughed anyway.

“Such a pretty mug!” Colm teased, trying to grab Andrew’s chin, but he merely pushed his friend away, laughing.

“Quit your nonsense, would you?” Andrew laughed. “Don’t listen to him, Y/N. He loves talking shite about others.”

“That is not true! Y/N! Please, with your feminine point of view… tell him I’m right.”

You chuckled, shied away, but answered anyway.

“Oh, I’m sure Andrew must be popular, yes. I would have definitely preferred staring at his face when I was a student, compared to the old dinosaurs I had to put up with.”

Andrew was blushing so hard, even his ears were turning a bright shade of red, but he couldn’t refrain his grin nonetheless.

“Please, tell me I don’t fall in that category!” Colm protested, making you laugh.

“No… not quite yet. You still have a couple of years ahead of you,” you joked, and Andrew burst into laughter, while Colm mumbled something under his breath, rolling his eyes.

“Well, children, this is my stop, have a good day,” he mumbled, entering his office while Andrew and you continued a bit further.

“I’m glad you’ll give classes you’re interested in,” Andrew said, giving you a warm smile.

“Thank you so much for helping me throughout the meeting. It was… a lot to take in.”

“Yeah, some people here are proper gobshites.”

You laughed at that, entering your shared office.

“Hmm… I have noticed, yes. You seem particularly fond of Ian,” you chuckled, and Andrew rolled his eyes.

“I’m a very peaceful kind of lad, but that arsehole deserves to get some sense being punched into him.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow at that. If you had been teasing, the fact that Andrew had turned more serious as he answered made you intrigued now, rather than playful.

“Really? What did he do?”

Andrew stared at you for a few seconds, wetting his lips before he would answer.

“Nothing illegal, don’t worry. But he’s an arsehole. He will destroy your career and reputation if it serves his interests. Especially if you’re a woman.”

He saw you clenching your jaw at that last remark, and he heaved a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head, and he hoped you could see that he meant it.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not you who is at fault. Anyone else I should be cautious about?”

“Mahon, O’Reilly, Evans, Hillstone and Patterson.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow.

“You’ve got a whole list ready,” you pointed out.

“I’ve been here for a year. Fool me once, shame on you…”

You slowly nodded, Andrew sighed again.

“Don’t worry, the rest of the bunch are nice though. Most of them are nice.”

“I’m used to it.”

You shook yourself out of the conversation, a smile growing on your features.

“I have something to show you!”

Andrew frowned a little at that, bending to avoid the lamp hanging from the ceiling as he walked over to your desk. He had grabbed his thermos filled with his favourite brand of tea.

“Really?”

You pulled out a rolled poster, and he laughed.

“Oh! So you did settle on some decoration!” he pointed out, while he opened the buttons of his grey tweed waistcoat. He buried his hand in the pocket of his tweed pants while you fumbled with the empty frame.

He put down his thermos on the edge of your desk, then pushed back a strand of hair that was falling across his eyes, readjusted his glasses upon his nose. You were quick to place the poster in the frame, and you grinned up at him once you were done, right before turning the frame around to show him the poster.

“I love this illustration. I had it hanging in my dorm when I was a student, and then in my first apartment. But my fiancé finds it a little… dark. And he’s not particularly interested in literature so… he doesn’t really get it. Anyway!”

You stopped your little rambling, grabbed the frame, and showed it to him.

Andrew raised a surprised eyebrow, immediately recognising Gustave Doré’s illustration of Dante’s Inferno.

The black and white print showed Virgil and Dante standing on the edge of a precipice, staring at a hurricane carrying the souls of sinners, talking to a couple crying in their everlasting punishment. Andrew had not read the book since his own college days, but he remembered that this was the punishment for those guilty of lust.

“Do you like it? Can I hang it?” you asked, an excited smile he found adorable on your lips. “I thought the black and white would fit your poster quite well.”

“Sure, go ahead. Need help?”

But you were already placing the frame against the wall.

“I have to admit, I’m quite surprised by your choice,” Andrew inspected the print, leaning against your desk, his hands still in his pockets. “I didn’t picture you as a fan of Dante… especially given his… conservative thoughts.”

“I love Inferno. I’m not going to pretend that I love the entirety of the Divine Comedy, but I love Dante’s image of hell. The haunting part of it. The way it is structured. Of course, it’s medieval thinking about issues that have radically changed now, but… It was a long time ago. If I don’t appreciate all of his thoughts, I do admire his imagination. Besides, it was a heavily political book. I’m surprised you don’t give him more credit for that.”

He answered your teasing smile with a genuine one.

“I do remember a little bit of that. Last time I read it, though… I was a student and hadn’t chosen to suffer through it. Besides… I think I was a little too young to understand it fully.”

You nodded.

“I’ve read it many times. I don’t know, there’s something… something about it that draws me in. Not the Christian moral lessons, of course. But just… I don’t know… there’s something fascinating about it. And I often wonder what our version of hell would be today. If we kept the structure, if we kept the place Dante created… how would we view those who are imprisoned there? Would we find their pain justified? Would we find it unfair to punish them like this? And who would we place in there? If we replaced the references to people Dante knew by people from our world, who would be stuck in Hell?”

Andrew pondered on these questions while he kept on listening to you. He had a few names in mind, for sure. He smiled at the thought, didn’t interrupt you while you babbled away about the book, about the things you loved and disliked about it.

“And I love Doré’s illustrations so much! They’re haunting, just like the book. And this one in particular, with Francesca and Paolo… like… their story is so sad, but even Dante was touched by them. Even if the moral in his book is outdated now, goes against what I believe… I’d like to think that we’d turn their story around today, that we wouldn’t condemn their love or include such a warning towards fiction through them, you know… with the whole reference to Arthurian myths and everything… don’t know if you remember that… but anyway… what would we think of them today? I’d like to believe we would find their punishment in hell unfair.”

You trailed off after that. You were nervous when you looked at him, pushing some of your hair behind your ear.

“Sorry for the ramble,” you apologised, but Andrew frowned in response.

“No need to apologise. Why would you?”

“I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me at all. Your thoughts are very interesting.”

You blinked at him, as if surprised. You gave him a bright smile, growing a little shy.

“Right, thanks. But we should get back to work.”

Andrew nodded, moved away from your desk and bent again to avoid the lamp hanging from the ceiling.

He looked at you as you stared at the poster for a moment. He was happy you were the one sharing his office, you were getting along well, you were so nice, you were so smart and always seemed to have something interesting to say. He just wanted to talk to you more about this book you loved, but you were right, you both had a lot of work to do. He should focus on this article he was reading before the meeting. Instead, he looked at you for a moment longer. And before his brain pushed the thought away, before Samantha was on his mind again, he didn’t fail to notice how beautiful you were.

He looked for his thermos across his desk, furrowing his brow when he didn’t find it there. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at himself when he remembered where it was.

He walked over to your desk again, reached for it while you were still focused on the poster. But his fingers got clumsy as he threw you a glance, and it fell across your desk. Some of the warm beverage was spilled on the wooden surface.

“Shite! God!”

You turned around at the sound, but Andrew didn’t see your eyes growing slightly round. Instead, as a reflex, he had grabbed your phone and papers to secure them, was already looking for some tissues to clean the mess he had made. You reached for some Kleenex tugged inside your backpack.

“Christ, I’m so sorry,” Andrew profusely apologised, hurrying to clean your desk too. “Sorry, I’m so… long, clumsy limbs… I’m so sorry…”

He cursed at himself under his breath, didn’t look at you, fiercely blushed. Always count on him to ridicule himself…

“That’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” you reassured him, and when Andrew looked up again, you had an earnest smile on your lips. “It was just an accident, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m sorry…”

Andrew was so flustered, so embarrassed… He finished cleaning, handed you back your things without making eye-contact, rubbed at his collarbone through his shirt as soon as his hands were empty again.

When he finally looked up once more, you were still smiling.

“It’s nothing, Andrew. It’s merely a little bit of tea. Besides, you’ve saved the most important items on my desk. Nothing to be so upset about.”

The anxious side of him had kicked in, he couldn’t help it. He ran his fingers through his hair several times while he forced out a chuckle.

“I know, sorry…”

Andrew walked back to his desk, looked at his computer screen while he heard you chuckling lightly. He saw in the corner of his eyes that you were fondly shaking your head at him.

Why did he have to always make a fool of himself, huh?

All you wanted to do was to rush home to share the good news with Frank.

You had managed to get interesting classes, including some linked to your research… you were so excited to get to work and begin teaching in October.

When you came home, Frank was on his computer, working. He kissed you when you leaned closer, but focused on his screen again, and so you decided to wait for dinner to talk to him about your day.

You took a shower, prepared dinner. Frank was still working, he only stopped when you told him dinner was ready.

“Smells nice,” he said with a smile, squeezing your hand, and you took the gesture for a silent thank you.

“Thanks!”

Frank remained silent as he started to eat, and so you jumped on the opportunity to speak about your day.

“The meeting about classes and lectures was today. And it went so well!” you started babbling away, Frank looking up at you with an emotionless gaze. “I’ve managed to get topics I’m interested in, and I’m going to teach about my research too! I mean… not directly about my research, but problematics bound to it! I’ll have a class about the male gaze and female gaze dynamics, another about feminism and feminist essays…”

“That’s great, babe.”

“Yeah! Andrew helped me navigate through the meeting quite a bit, and he got the classes he wanted too, so…”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah! And…”

“Could you hand me the salt, please?”

“Sure. I’m also gonna work quite a lot on the 19th century, which is great! I like that period, especially for novels. And that means that I can include lots of female writers, like Austen and the Brontë sisters, obviously… but I can also spend some time on feminist movements, cause that’s really an important century for them.”

“Good, good…”

“Yeah, that’s grand, and…”

He heaved a sigh, and you grew quiet.

“You’re alright?” you asked, trying not to show your disappointment.

You knew that this question meant that the conversation would focus on him for a while, and you might not be able to talk about today again.

“I… Y/N, we need to talk.”

Your heart sank.

That was not the answer you were expecting…

“Talk?”

“About us.”

“What? What do you mean? About the wedding, you mean?”

“No, I…”

He hesitated, looked at you for a moment, before putting his fork down.

“I think we should break up.”

And that was it. Words that were shattering your world spoken like they were easy to let out, like they didn’t mean the earthquake they produced. You merely stared for a moment, waiting for Frank to tell you that he was joking, to take his words back. But he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he went on. “But I think we should go our separate ways.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? We’re engaged! We’re going to get married!”

“I’m sorry, Y/N… I know it’s pretty sudden…”

“PRETTY SUDDEN! WE’RE ENGAGED! YOU’RE EATING MY FUCKING FOOD!”

“There’s no need to shout…”

“NO NEED TO SHOUT! OF COURSE, THERE IS A NEED TO SHOUT! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!”

“I’m sorry… but it’s best if we don’t stay together.”

“Why? What happened? You… We’re supposed to get married…”

“I’ve met someone else, Y/N.”

Your eyes grew round, and suddenly all air had left your lungs.

“You… you’re cheating on me?!” you asked, your voice lowering again, your emotions bubbling too much, tears rising to your eyes.

“No! No! No!” Frank defended himself, shaking his head vehemently. “Nothing happened. I swear, nothing happened… but… Y/N, if I am able to feel this way for another woman, then we shouldn’t get married.”

“For how long have you known her? Who is it?”

“You don’t know her. We’ve met through work.”

“How long?”

“Not long… a few weeks.”

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, crossing your arms before your chest.

“A few weeks? You’re trying to make me believe that you want to leave me for a woman you’ve met weeks ago?!”

“You don’t understand, we’re in love…”

You felt your head starting to spin, you had buried it in your hands.

This was a nightmare, just a bad dream, you would wake up and everything would get back to normal, you would tick all the right boxes again…

“What do you mean in love?”

“I love her. I know that it sounds… mental, but I do. And if I can fall in love with someone else like this… then you and I shouldn’t get married. It means that I… that I don’t love you enough to marry you.”

“You’ve got to be joking…”

“I’m not. I’m sorry, but I’m serious.”

“What’s her name?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, no… Do you want to be with her?”

“Yes. But I don’t know if she’ll want to be with me.”

“Really?”

“She’s not single either.”

You laughed then, tears streaming down your face too, unable to cope with the tidal wave of emotions that was drowning you.

Denial, pain, betrayal, anger, sadness…

“I’ll gather my things,” he said, standing up while you started shaking on your chair, struggling to breathe.

You didn’t even notice that he was moving away, that he was packing… you remained frozen on your seat, sobbing, while Frank was gathering fragments of your lives and tearing them away from your space.

He only reappeared about an hour later in the kitchen, the rest of your meal was cold. You hadn’t moved an inch.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

And then he was gone.

[theladyofrosewater]

I have finally gotten Laurance's character sheet to a point where I'm actually okay with the result. I'll probably make some edits later. Character notes and lore undercut also content warning for general shadow knight stuff

Feel free to suggest the next character to get a character sheet!

I was aiming for a swimmers or acrobatic type of build for him so I tried to give him wider shoulders. I'm going to be basing all of the guard characters after some kind of sports athlete so feel free to give suggestions for future guards like Katelyn or Dante

In my rewrite Laurance was nearly torn in half (yikes) in the Nether and Sasha had to stitch him back together. He didn't fully die but his heart stopped for almost a minute before Sasha restarted it. Hence he got turned into a Shadow Knight although a lot more human than most

Laurance is missing part of his leg in my rewrite as well as being partially blind in one eye and this is from Ungrth's rescue mission, which sidenote I'm very tempted to mix wyverns and phoenixes together in my rewrite so that Laurance still loses his friend but is comforted by the fact that he'll be back someday.

His leg prosthetic is actually part of his shadow knight form and as a result he can get quite tired if he's on his feet all day. Dante and Garroth commissioned Kenmur to create a decent prosthetic for Laurance but the group disappears before Kenmur can finish it. Laurance uses a wooden crutch when he gets too tired or has a day off. It's quite well made and carved with a wyvern script spell for steady balance. It used to be Jon's but Hayden gifted it to him when he left Meteli for good. (Also sidenote I'm making Jon and Hayden married in my rewrite just because I think it would be good storytelling)

Laurance has always been clumsy but surprisingly enough his balance only suffered a little when adjusting to his new leg, and he's pretty good at adjusting to the vison loss. He will however sometimes be an idiot while exploring and that's why half the time he ends up in caves or old witches hideouts when he's exploring

Laurance's natural hair color was that nice brown we all know and maybe love and in my rewrite he still dyes it to match Cadenza however becoming a shadow knight kinda mess with his hair and now when it reaches a certain point it kinda sorta just turns orange and while Laurance may be a flirt he doesn't actually care that much about his apparence, as long as he's in good shape health wise he doesn't care, so his hair is left long.

Laurance's shadow knight armor is actually quite different from a lot of other shadow knights as he's technically still living. Shadow knights that are fueled by intense anger like Zenix or were turned when they were still living have a lava like substance glowing in the cracks of their armor. Shadow knights like Sasha, Vylad or Gene on the other hand have "dead" armor that is just rock and maybe a few gemstones. Becoming a full shadow knight takes either your memories or a part of your soul and unless Shad gives an individual that piece back or they are too filled with rage their armor is dead.

His normal guard armor is a mix of nether metals and draconic steel, Aphelia got it from Zoey and gifted it to Laurance when he was sworn in as a knight of Phoenix Drop. It has an extremely high melting point so Laurance can hid his leg if he wants too or he needs to for missions but often times in Phoenix Drop he doesn't bother unless it's cold or raining or Phoenix Drop is on high alert. The leg produces some heat enough to singe fabrics but isn't a fire hazard unless Laurance wants it to be

Laurance used to have a lot of keepsakes and jewelry but they were lost in the Nether. but you can see on the casual outfit that Cadenza has been sending him new rings :)

His hair does glow in Shadow Knight form and yes he has been used as a nightlight/ light source before but on the bright side he got the codename firefly so it's not a total loss. also his teeth are stronger but not sharper as only some shadow knights get fangs and it's seemingly random

I imagine him to be almost 23 and around 6'2 but only because he has a habit of only walking on the tips of his toes as Cadenza made him take the same dance tutor their dads hired for her. In reality he's like 6 ft on a good day.

[risingsunresistance]

anyone have anything about the resistance they wanna share in my inbox

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 39 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

39. pool time  

You float in the pool, cooling off after a day of training. Not so much your body, as your head. 

John yelled at you earlier for not clearing a chamber jam fast enough for his liking–and you are tired of all of this. 

Mariko continues to kick the shit out of you every other day–but you are learning a lot, so you take it. Just when you think you might be earning her begrudging respect–she finds some new way to put you in your place–and on your face.

John drills you at the range and on the speed course, and you didn’t think you were doing too bad, until about an hour ago. But the slide stuck and the spring was tight and the checkered metal hurt your sore fingers and the guns are heavy…you’re over it.

You don’t even want to go to Argentina anymore. You just want to go home. 

The only one in the pool, you swim back and forth aimlessly, underwater and above, changing your strokes every few passes then floating again. 

This situation is wearing on John too. If they don’t show soon…you don’t know what he’s going to do. Something that will probably mean leaving you here, in safety, while he goes off to do what he does. 

Which according to Winston, is starting fires in the Underworld he doesn’t quite know how to put out, without killing everyone. 

The thought of him going on another rampage terrifies you. 

You sense the shadow of someone standing over you at the side of the pool. Expecting John, you right yourself in the water, looking up.

“I did not know the New York Continental boasted its own mermaid.”

So. Not. John.

You immediately sink again in the water, peering up at the newcomer with narrowed eyes. You’re not sure which clue put you on edge immediately: the wolfish way he looks down at you, his elegant yet flashy manner of dress–or his Italian accent. 

You say nothing in return, your heart in your throat. Somehow, you just know. 

“Allow me to introduce myself. Dante D’Antonio.” He squats down at the side of the pool, paying you a cruel little smile. A lock of his dark, curly hair falls down over his forehead; he’s handsome, but there is something missing in his hazel-green eyes as he stares you down. You’ll admit it. He scares the shit out of you. 

“Your fiancé killed my mother.” 

“Prepare to die?”

“What?”

“Sorry, I thought we were quoting The Princess Bride here.”

“What?” 

“It’s good that you’ve come, signor D’Antonio,” you say more carefully, kicking yourself for being a smartass in this world where everyone spoke carefully and in metaphor, because crossing the wrong person could literally mean losing your head. “My fiancé has been getting impatient.” 

“It was never his strong suit, so I’ve heard.” 

“And yet, you harass him. There are a lot of dead people who would tell you that’s not a smart move.” 

He waves you off with a flourish of his wrist. You are so tempted to splash him. “John Wick is an old man whose time has passed. It is a shame, he would involve a pretty little innocent like you in the crossfire.”

You glare at this man, sinking up to your nose in the water. What is he doing here, talking to you?

“D’Antonio.” 

John’s low voice draws you like a beacon. He stands at the other end of the pool, a dark pillar of death. The air positively crackles with tension, and then it dawns on you that this is d’Antonio’s purpose. Rile John Wick to the point of doing violence on Continental grounds, and make him sign his own death warrant.

Again.

You might have missed it once, but now you can see the bulge under John’s expertly tailored suit jacket. You know he’s wearing a loaded Glock on his hip, and that he could end this troublesome young man in about 1.5 seconds.

That would just be the beginning of your troubles. 

You remember what Winston cautioned you, about what John might do to a perceived threat of you. Fuck. 

“John…” you caution, swimming quickly for the ladder that is conveniently situated between the two men, intending to put yourself between them. Dread floods your system, as you fear you’ll be too late.  “Save it for the parlay,” you beg between strokes. 

If Dante d’Antonio was here, surely the others were on their way? It would be madness, otherwise, for the boy to show his face to John Wick?

“Yes, John. Don’t do anything rash,” taunts Dante with a smarmy grin, one hand stuffed casually in his waistcoat pocket.  

It all happens so fast. 

John rushes the kid, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. 

Dante balks, clearly not having thought through his life choices, facing down the John Wick with no bodyguards and no weapon to his name. 

You don’t think John actually touches the young man, but Dante manages to stumble over his own Gucci-clad feet in his panic–into the pool, in that beautiful silk suit. 

You watch this transpire open mouthed, half-hoisted up on the ladder. 

John’s iron grip on your arm pulls you out the rest of the way from the pool, snatching your towel from a chair as the two of you power-walk out, draping your dripping form with the soft terry cloth as Dante d’Antonio hurls angry Italian expletives after your retreating forms. 

“Are you going to get into trouble for that?” you hiss, your teeth chattering from the temperature change and the adrenaline. 

“I didn’t even touch him,” defends John, bundling you into the elevator. “What a little bitch.”

You snort at that. You are weightless for a moment, as the elevator rises. 

“Go to the room,” John orders you at the fifth floor. 

“Where are you going?” You try not to sound like a scared little girl, certain you fail. You’re not mad anymore. Just anxious, and you realize, a bit excited. Finally, something is happening.

“To talk to Winston.” 

Of course. 

“Hurry back to me?” 

He presses his lips to yours, then gently nudges you towards the hall. “Always.”

[cainhart]

The symbolism of the snake embroidery on Vergil's clothes and my theories on how he might have acquired his outfit. (he's broke asf he didn't get it with money guys)

In the first Devil May Cry novel we learn that teenager Dante had his red jacket custom made. He is actually pissy about it when it gets ruined with bullet holes. He then wears a fuckass black jacket, which makes him look embarrassing.

Dante was drinking and using firearms when he was 15 or 16 years old; but he had a job (albeit his job being a MERCENARY. Also twins being European really shows because he was having drinking contests as a fucking 15 year old, god), so he had enough money to buy himself a custom made jacket. But the thing is, we don’t know how teenager Vergil got his outfit. It’s too well made to be bought in a normal store. Vergil probably had no money—though it is hinted that after Mundus' attack, young Vergil may have used public transportation (I also have a headcanon that he didn't know how to open a portal until he was at least 12 so that makes sense) and even bought himself food. These may have happened before or after the attack but let's say after the attack since Sparda, Eva, and the twins were living a secluded life. Still, being homeless and constantly on the run, his concept of the value of money is more like ‘money’ and ‘a LOT of money.’ He had no use for finance; what important was to get powerful and gain knowledge.

So, he probably didn’t get it with money. Vergil was never in one place long enough to earn money. I also don't see him as someone who would kill or hurt people to steal their money (he actually kinda did it in VoV,,, but that was different), so the idea of custom made clothing bought with human currency doesn't sit with me.

He might have used demonic magic to create his outfit. We see a demonstration of this in DMC5 with Trish, who uses her magic to literally recreate her entire outfit. This is very weird and left unexplained, which frustrates me because I need to rationalize things. Perhaps demons can do this because they can infuse anything with their demonic energy, and since the clothes they wear are made of organic material, they can recreate or even sew them back together. In Vergil's case, it's more like 'create a whole new outfit in mind's eye and boom now you have a ridiculous cravat.'

Another possibility is that he had it custom-made, but not with human currency. Demons, or at least a certain demonic/supernatural entity (the God of Time, aka the Divinity Statue), accept red orbs as a form of payment.

Vergil probably visited many places on his trauma blind journey of gaining power. I might overdo here, but what if he came across a strange tailor and they made a deal like, "You give me 70 thousand red orbs, and I give you a slutty vest, a ridiculous cravat, nice shoes and a cool coat with snake embroidery on it." and Vergil was like "Aight." Maybe he was intending to infuse his outfit with his magic anyway. It was a win-win situation.

It's funny to imagine Vergil designing his outfit, just being a teenager for once.

So, Vergil could have saved up red orbs to get a cool coat. Demonic establishments are kind of canon, so that’s a possibility. He was a teenager it’s only natural that he liked teenager things, even in his traumatized and hunted state. At a certain point in his life, he became strong enough to indulge in some of his likes.

Speaking of snake embroidery, Vergil has SO MUCH snake symbolism on him, and on his clothes too! Snakes were adored and respected throughout history before paganism started to get shitted on. Snakes represent wisdom, REBIRTH, healing, transformation, and knowledge. That’s why Satan, disguised as a snake, gave Eve the apple (knowledge) (also, knowledge of the occult was really given to women first). The snake detail on his clothes might even be magic, too. It's nearly an occult symbol on its own. Maybe a sigil? I know sigils aren't a thing in DMC but I don't care I'll go apeshit with my theories.

Whether the serpent detail was intentional or unintentional, it’s still a great detail considering his story and character. He goes through transformation (Nero Angelo), then rebirth (Vergil rebirth party in DMC5), and healing (basically the whole plot of Visions of V).

So, just teenager Vergil researching the occult and being fascinated with the symbolism of the serpent. OR he straight up stole it. :l This bitch split his demonic and human self apart and like 1 day after his human self came to existence he had to deal with money and his first thought was to steal it. Anyway, that's all. Have a good day!

[kurithedweeb]

I know people talk about MyS Gene and Laurance being exes, but. Hear me out. MCD Gene and Laurance being exes.

(This was specifically written for an AU where Laurance got married pre-canon but it still works well if you take that bit out.)

Think of the potential, especially if Gene is the one who turned Laurance into a Shadow Knight. Imagine the things he could draw on during Laurance's stay in the Nether. The narrative potential.

Maybe they were in a relationship in the guard academy. They met in Brightport when they were both checking out the guard academy with their families, maybe they ran into each other on their way to their barracks. They weren't very serious about it going in, had more of a friends-with-benefits deal that became boyfriends after a short while. They had a very good relationship, rarely if ever fought, and tried long distance for a while after their graduation before eventually deciding to officially break up. It was all very amicable and they still send letters to each other.

And then suddenly Gene stops answering. And it takes a long time for news to travel between Boboros and Meteli. Laurance sends a few letters, not knowing that Gene's parents have been getting rid of them. Maybe they send back a note saying Gene had been executed. Maybe they don't. Laurance can only wonder what happened.

Hear me out: Gene turned bad so quickly and drastically because all he wanted was to be loved. I swear I'm going somewhere with this. Gene wants to be loved so badly, he's craved it all his life, to the point where when he loves someone it will twist into an obsession at the slightest hint of rejection.

He loves his family, he lives with them and raises Dante and helps their mother with anything she could ever need. He loves Laurance, and is safe in the knowledge that Laurance never falls out of love with anyone even when they're halfway across the region from one another, and its clear in his letters even though they're not technically together anymore. He loves his men, and they adore their commander, and the same is true with the Lord. He loves the Lord's daughter -

And she doesn't love him. No matter what he says, what he does, she doesn't love him. And he has the power to change that. And then before he can, Dante, arguably the person he loves the most, turns his back on Gene.

And the obsessive part of him rears its ugly head. It doesn't matter how old Dante is, it doesn't matter that he's doing the right thing. He's betraying Gene.

Dante and his Lord and his Lord's daughter, even his own men, they all turned their backs on him when all he ever did was love them. So he swears his vengeance. And he wakes up under the eyes of a monster, a man who hands him his vengeance and all the love and adoration he could ask for on a silver platter, so long as he does this one job for him. So long as he's a good general.

And Gene can do that, Gene can be that. And he's adored for it. By his new Lord, by the men who fall under his command, and he can make the prisoners that fall under his purview adore him too.

And then he sees Laurance again. And they can have what they once had. Laurance, surely, never stopped loving him. Laurance never falls out of love with anyone. Gene saves Laurance from the other Shadow Knights, and he's so kind to him, so sweet, just like they once were, and Laurance is wearing a wedding ring.

A wedding . . . ha.

Laurance has fallen out of love with him. And he has the power to change that.

He tries to do it the easy way, with his magick, but Laurance is frustratingly resistant to it. Probably because of that damn swamp of his, the one he once said blessed him as a child, but that's fine. If he couldn't replace this spouse of Laurance's, he'd make him adore him again the way he does all the other prisoners.

By turning him. By giving him power beyond his wildest dreams, and a place at Gene's side like he once had.

And in the end, Laurance only hates him more. In the end, Laurance fears him. And that's okay. If he won't love him, fearing him is the next best thing.

All this to say Laurance and Gene are exes in the Drop of Sunlight universe.

[luckyjiii]

movie night (l.z.)

WORDCOUNT - 1688

Paring - Laurance Zvhal x reader

tw/cw- fingering, unprotected sex, praise, soft dom laurance, aftercare, petnames, friends to lovers, possibly out of character, fluff after

Not grammar checked sorry! >~<

It was your weekly movie night with your best friend Laurance. After being snuggled under the covers with all your favorite snacks you decided on the movie EuroTrip. Although you wouldn’t be paying attention to the movie as you would rather stare at Laurance. As much as you would hate to admit it to him, he was incredibly handsome. His sandy brown hair hung gentle around his perfect face that you just couldn’t pry your eyes away from. 

You had started to see him in this new light after Aphmau’s Christmas party last year, where he had kissed you under the mistletoe as “friends”. It had been about a year since then and you thought the feelings would go away eventually but they never did. Ever since then you start to notice little things about him that you have progressively found more attractive. Like the way he would help you reach things on high shelves, his hands, the way he said your name… 

“Y/N? Are you gonna watch the movie or me?” A warm smile spread across his face. His teasing made your face hot, it was another thing you liked about him. “I’m getting to it,  just didn’t really interest me.” You replied as you rolled your eyes. You honestly didn’t really know what was going on in the movie.

 Not only did his looks distract you but also the fact you two were home alone. Usually his roommates would join you guys or be somewhere close by, but today Garroth went to his parents house for an early holiday party and Dante was working at the cat cafe they all worked at and probably went to someone's house after with Travis. He decided to change the movie to some random popular horror movie. You reached for your favorite chips and snuggled a little bit closer to him in an effort to take your mind off of everything. 

This time the movie was more captivating. At every scare you clung to each other and after he kept his hand on your thigh to calm you down. After a bit you realized where his hand was and how big it was and a heat started building in your stomach. Had he always done things like this? You weren’t sure but it was making your head spin. The movie had slowed down a bit and Laurence’s hand had been slowly sliding up your thigh but you tried to keep your focus pretending it didn’t bother you. He had to be teasing you again like always…right? Him turning his head towards you broke you from your thoughts.

“Y/N?”

“Uh huh”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Uh huh”

“Y/N I really like you.” His hand stopped at the bottom of your pajama shorts before sharply inhaling. “Do you like me too?”

“Uh huh” 

His other hand grabbed your chin and turned your head towards him. “Can I kiss you?” Instead of answering him you leaned in to capture his soft lips in a kiss. His hand on your chin sliding to cup your face and his other slide to your waist to pull you closer. He bit your bottom lip making you gasp and his tongue entered your mouth as he pulled you onto his lap. 

“Is this ok?” He asked panting, breaking the kiss. You nodded your head too nervous to say anything. “Use your words baby.” Him saying that lit a fire in you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and slowly started rocking your hips back and forth. You closed the gap between you and kissed him again. The pleasure you two felt made the kiss sloppier than the first one with moans and groans coming from him and you. 

Before you had realized it he had picked you up and started heading to his room. You gave him a confused look. “I just want you to be comfortable.” That made you blush and you hid your face in his neck. He opened his door and placed you on his bed before closing and locking it. He pulled off his shirt, showing his toned body making you look him up and down. “C’mon Y/N don’t drool over me now.”

 He got on the bed and put you into his lap again. “Are you sure you want this and you're not just doing this for my sake?”He asked as his hands reached the end of your shirt. “Laurance, please I want you. I want this so bad, I’ve wanted this for so long.” With no other words needed to be said he lifted your shirt over your head and started to kiss your neck. The kisses evolved into him softly sucking and biting your neck leaving a trail of mark down your neck. “God Y/N you're so pretty.” He groaned into your neck.

Heat flooded your body and in between your legs had this unbearable throbbing and wetness. “Laurance please” He lifted his head from your neck and looked at you like you were the only thing in the world at the moment. His blue eyes stood out more in the moonlight peeking in from his slightly open curtains. He hummed in approval and laid you on the bed. Slowly he took off your pajama shorts and panties. 

He ran one finger between your folds making you shiver. He made eye contact with you as he inserted a finger into you and started slowly pumping it in and out. This one finger reached spots you never could and felt so different. He added another making your back arch and let out a moan. “You sound so pretty baby.” He started to speed up his pace.

You threw your head back as he added another finger. “Laurance I’m a-about..” Before you could finish the sentence he quickened his fingers as you came. Your legs were shaking by the time you were done. “You ok?” He asked with a worried look on his face. You nodded your head, panting. He pet your head with his hand not in you and quickly kissed your forehead. “Do you think you can do a little more or are you at your limit y/n?”

“I want you in me please” You sat up and started to unbuckle his belt and slide down his pants. Left in his boxers he began to blush realizing what was about to happen. Slowly you pulled down his boxers and his dick hit his stomach. You gulped looking at it, this was your first time and this was one of your closest friends. A blush spread across both of your faces as he laid you down. “Y/N I’m asking you one last time. Are you sure you want this?” Even moments like this he was so worried and cared about you. “Yes Laurence please just fuck me.”

He softly laughed and carefully slid into you with you wincing in pain. “Let me know when I can move ok baby?” You tightly closed your eyes and nodded. After a little bit you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in and tapped him to let him know you were ready. He slowly started moving quickly picking up his pace. “Fuckk princess it’s like you were made for me.” He moaned 

The only sounds in the house were skin slapping, moans, and the movie that had been long forgotten. You wrap your arms around his neck like you did earlier and pull him into open mouth kisses. Everything was getting too much, the only thing grounding you to reality was the scratches you were leaving on Laurance’s back and his warmth. It felt like you were melting into each other.

You couldn’t even say his name, you were so weak. One of your arms fell on your face, you didn’t want him to see you like this, it was too embarrassing.  You were about to reach your second orgasm when he noticed you covering your face and slowed down. “Nuh uh baby I wanna see your face.” He grabbed your wrist and pinned it above your head, using his other hand to keep himself up. 

You whined before his pace quickened going back to what it was before. You started to squirm to warn him, you knew you were at your limit. “It’s ok me too, can you do it with me, pretty girl?” You couldn’t even respond as your orgasm hit you like a truck. You were seeing stars. By the time you came down from your high Laurance pulled out and came on your stomach.

“Are you ok baby?” He was laying next to you petting your head. You nodded too tired to speak. Your eyes started to close and you started to drift off to sleep before Laurance kissed you on the forehead. You had woken up not too long after to the feeling of something wet. “Sorry I wanted to clean you up but you fell asleep. Do you want to go shower?” You let out a sound of agreement.

As he picked you up bridal style as he wrapped you up in a towel. Taking you to the bathroom you snuggled up into his chest, his warmth could put you right back to sleep. The brightness of the bathroom made you squint and close your eyes, being used to the darkness of his room and the living room. You kept your eyes closed as you heard the water running and were placed into it. 

A warm rag was run over you until you were cleaned. “Hon, I’ll be right back I’m gonna grab clothes for you ok?” You nodded and just enjoyed the warm, relaxing water. You weren’t sure how long he’d been gone but he came just in time because he was starting to get lonely. He helped you get out of the tub and get dressed into a pair of his clothes. He picked you up again and you rested your head on his shoulder as he walked you back to his room. 

“I love you, Laurance.” You said it because of exhaustion but you meant every single word you said.”I love you too y/n” He said in that warm silky tone you love so much.  It wasn’t long before you hit the bed and fell quickly asleep.

Bonus

You woke up the next morning hugging Laurance like a big teddy bear. It was so comfy you never wanted to get up. You snuggled your face into him before he squeezed you, scaring you as you let out a yelp. “Morning baby.” He said while giggling. “Morning.” You hugged him tightly, inhaling his smell. It was another thing you loved about him, it was so comforting. 

“Can I tell the world I have a girlfriend?” You could tell he was smiling by the way he said that. You were going to talk to him about what you guys were after that, but girlfriend and boyfriend felt right. “Mhm tell everyone” He squeezed you again and kissed you. Nothing could ruin this sweet moment.

“LAURANCE GET UP IT’S SNOWING EVERYONE IS WAITING FOR US” You forgot about his roommates. Garroth, Dante, and Travis had gotten home sometime between you falling asleep and you waking up now. You had just told Laurance he could tell everyone you were his girlfriend but how were you supposed to explain to his other best friend so soon..? Garroth tried to open the door but to no avail.

“LAURANCE DID YOU FALL ASLEEP NAKED AGAIN?” You raised an eyebrow at him as he shook his head no trying to defend his innocence. He tried to get up to tell Garroth off but you clung to him. “Y/N just let me tell him I’m tired from movie night and we can keep cuddling and watch stuff in here.”  He whispered to you as you sighed and let him go.

He got up from bed and quickly walked to his door. He opened the door a crack so that Garroth couldn’t see you in his bed. Travis, who was standing next to Garroth, flashed a smile at him. “There you are! C’mon honey bear don’t you wanna go play out in the snow with us??” Garroth batted his lashes at Laurance. “No. I’m tired from my movie night with y/n we stayed up late and she’s still sleeping, so shut up.”

Garroth raised his eyebrows with a cheeky smile. “So if she stayed over why aren’t you sleeping on the couch?” Laurance rolled his eyes trying to hide his embarrassment of getting caught almost accidentally. He closed the door on Garroth’s face and sighed. “You idiot, she’s my girlfriend, why wouldn’t I sleep in the same bed as her?” Your face became hot, still not used to being his girlfriend. Being more awake now you clearly remember the events of last night, if you weren’t already red, you were now. 

Your thoughts were disrupted when you felt a dip in the bed next to you and a scream coming outside the door. Laurence hugged you and smiled but it was hard to appreciate the moment with the yells happening outside the door. “LAURANCE WHAT. WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN ? HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL YOUR BEST FRIEND? OPEN THE DOOR.” You two burst out laughing but it wasn’t so funny when the door busted open with a fuming Garroth standing in the door frame.“LAURANCE..WHEN..?” 

“Yesterday, last night. Do you need more details..?” He said with the sass he only has for Garroth. Travis stood behind Garroth with a shocked look on his face but and both shook their heads no. “Um…so..are you still not going to play in the snow with everyone..?” Travis said, peeking his head out from behind Garroth. “We’ll be out later, just let us sleep in a little later and we still need to get my stuff.” You interjected into the conversation with a soft laugh. 

With that the blond and silver haired boys left just as quickly as they came. Laurance closed the door again as you fell backwards onto the bed. “I wonder if everyone will react like that..” You said while curling up in a ball to keep warm. The boys left the front door open and it quickly cooled down the whole house. Laurance crawled back into bed with you and wrapped himself and blankets around you. It was warm and comfy enough to fall back asleep.

“Maybe we should just stay in bed all day.” He hummed in agreement and you both fell back asleep.