#william's got this v mischievous smile & way of playing things off

[spring-lxcked]

thinking abt how often william gets away with being an asshole because he plays it off as being mischievous instead

[tales-unique]

MEMORIES OF THE WEST V

Chapter 5

The only time Saint Denis seemed peaceful was early in the morning. The sun had barely risen an hour or so before Arthur found you descending the white steps into the street, dressed in a pale yellow pinstripe blouse and flowing black skirt. Scuffing your tapered boots in annoyance, you look about yourself with a scowl on your face. You have a delicate ornate fan in hand, swatting it ceaselessly to dispel the early morning heat that plagues you. “Mornin’ Miss DuBois,” he calls, tipping his hat in greeting, “you’re out early.” “Mister Morgan, good morning,” you chirp, regarding him with a tight-lipped smile. “I just had to get out,” you hiss, the beating of your fan a sharp tempo accompaniment to your words, “this heat is awful !” Arthur chuckles, motioning for you to walk with him. “Yeah, it is,” he agrees, feeling the sweat bead on the back of his neck where the sun beats down on him relentlessly.

You walk side by side on the cobblestone streets, taking in the relative quiet. A lone carriage rumbles by, a couple strolls past you and you greet them cordially. It's pleasant, but it won't last. "So, what’s the plan?" He asks, hooking his thumb in his belt loop, "how do you wanna approach this whole thing with Jebediah?" Not one to beat around the bush, Arthur wanted to have at least the bare bones of a plan in place. The last thing they needed was to create more problems, especially ones that would involve the law. That arrogant bastard probably had them all on his payroll. "Well, it's not going to be easy," you sigh, coming to a stop outside the tailor's shop, perusing the wares on display in the window. "Jebediah doesn't like you one bit , Arthur," you click your tongue, regarding his reflection. You can certainly see why. He's dressed in a simple white button up with the sleeves rolled up and a fitted blue waistcoat that shows just how broad and defined he is. The faded blue jeans and black cowboy boots complete the look, and you take extra care not to spend too long staring at the way the denim hugs his muscular thighs. He scoffs, shaking his head. If he notices you staring he doesn't say anything, much to your relief. "That so? I really couldn't tell!" He huffs, harsh sarcasm dripping from each word. Turning on your heel you simply smile up at him, you even dare to flutter your lashes. "Don't worry about that Arthur, I've got it handled," you tell him, your smile turning mischievous. "What are you up to?" He asks warily, narrowing his eyes at you. "It's nothing bad !" You grumble, fanning your face. Standing still let the heat cling to you and it was sending you dizzy. Arthur follows your lead when you start walking again, falling into line at your side. You casually make your way towards one of the gardens, trying to keep in the shade and the minimal relief it brings as much as you can. "I just commented on how safe I would feel if I had someone with me, and broached the idea of having my own personal bodyguard, is all," you comment flippantly, glancing at him, "and maybe I managed to convince Jebediah to hire you for just that very position." "Well I'll be damned!" Arthur exclaims, impressed you were able to pull off such a feat. "What can I say? I know how to play the damsel when I need to," you preen, rolling your eyes playfully. Not only was Arthur possibly going to get away with a large sum of money and other riches, but he was going to be paid for the privilege. It's almost too good to be true, but he bites his tongue. You look so proud of yourself and he can't bring himself to rain on your parade. If things go sour he can figure it out, he always manages to somehow. The flow of conversation comes easily as you continue to walk, taking your time leisurely to admire the botanical centerpieces in the gardens. Saint Denis always did have the most beautiful flowers and bushes and you often went there when you needed time to reflect and collect yourself. "We should probably get you back," Arthur hums, "or that brother of yours might send out the whole damn cavalry to find you this time!" The comment forces a snort out of you, hiding your snickering behind your fan. It's funny because it's a scenario you can definitely see happening, not that you'd blame him. William had been overly cautious ever since you had come back, terrified of letting you go out alone even for the simplest of things. While you could appreciate his fears it was becoming stifling and you didn't know how much you could take. "Come on," Arthur chuckles. Neither of you want to go back, especially knowing that you have to force yourselves to perform roles you didn't care for, but do it you must. That doesn't mean you don't take your sweet time doing it, though.

“Don’t walk away from me, William! We are not done talkin’ about this!” “Why do you have to turn everything into an argument?” “Oh, I do apologize! I suppose I shouldn’t be angry when somethin’ is arranged about me when I’m not even in the damn room !” You hadn’t been back in the apartment barely half an hour before you and your brother were embroiled in a heated argument. Arthur stood off to the side, leaning against the wall by the window, deciding right quick that he wasn’t going to get in the middle of it. You more than had this handled, if your imposing stance and downright mean glare had anything to say about it. Even Jebediah, as disgruntled over the whole affair as he was, didn’t interfere when you started biting back. “It’s just for a couple of weeks, sister!” William rebukes in a defensive hiss, throwing his hands up in the air, “Jebediah feels that—” “—Jebediah! So Jebediah feels like I should be plucked from my own home just because he says so! Why didn’t you say so? I’ll go pack my bags right now, shall I?” You snap, hands pinned tightly to your hips. Arthur can see the way you’re gripping the fabric there so tight your knuckles are turning white. You’re angrier than a wildcat with its tail on fire and it’s too much for William to take. He falters, all that built up bravado in front of the man he idolizes, the man who swindled him, suddenly wilting in the face of real fire. “I-I just think it’s a good idea, after everything that’s happened,” William tries to reason with you, but there’s no conviction to his voice, “you know Lady Kramer loves it when you stay with her, and it gives Jebediah time to get the wedding in order!” The mere mention of the wedding makes you bristle and you open your mouth to scream how there will be no damn wedding , but you hesitate. Your fiery gaze flits between William, Jebediah, and Arthur, the last of which regards you with a look of warning. It sobers you, making you think about the consequences of your actions. You inhale deeply, grounding yourself as best you can; you’re still brimming with anger, but at least you’re not ready to commit murder. “I’m not going anywhere , William,” you speak with a sense of finality that has William reeling from the vicious bite of it. The tension is still rife in your stance when you turn away from him to face Jebediah. His sharp eyes watch you closely through the smoke of his lit cigar, regarding you with an air of condescension that you return ten fold before striding towards the door. You stop just before leaving, your hand on the handle. “You coming, Arthur?” It’s subdued, nothing at all like the brimstone and fire you were spitting moments ago. The flames have simmered down until nothing but embers were left, your eyes imploring as they look at him. Arthur stands straighter, sizing up Jebediah as he passes him. The pompous snake seethes as he follows you, noticing the way you smile at him all soft like before shooting him a look of contempt as you leave. Outside the door, you let out a deep breath and rub your face. God, those men made you so mad. Arthur barely closes the door behind him before you’re stalking off, having to hurry his steps just to catch up with you. He matches your pace at the top of the stairs, eyeing you like you’re a coiled viper about to strike. “Well that was something,” he remarks. “Oh, go dunk your head in the river!” There’s no malice in your retort, just an annoyance that isn’t aimed at him. You descend the stairs with a swiftness that catches Arthur off guard, your dress front scrunched up in your hands so you don’t trip. “Don’t fall now,” Arthur mocks, a mix of sardonic humor and genuine concern. The last thing he needs right now is for you to trip down the stairs and break your neck because you’re all wound up. You curse him under your breath, feet hurriedly taking you out into the street without so much as a backwards glance. You just want to get away , but not under someone else's instruction. “What now?” He asks, coming to a stop at your side. A look of consideration crosses your face, your brow creasing

in thought. Then, you perk up, practically glowing. “I think it’s time you meet my Ginger,” you grin, excited as you bounce on the balls on your feet. “Ginger? Who’s Ginger?” “Just c’mon!” You roll your eyes at him, already walking ahead of him. You laugh that pretty laugh you do when you’re all kinds of excited as you quicken your pace to a playful trot just to keep ahead of him, causing Arthur to smile despite his grumblings. You were already feeling lighter now that your mind was taken away from the issues at home, focused instead on the true love of your life. When you come to stop outside of the Saint Denis Stables Arthur stares up at the big painted letters, perplexed. He feels like a goddamn fool ; who in their right mind would name their kid Ginger? “There she is!” You grin, hurrying up to a stall at the far end. The scent of hay and horses is rife inside, but it doesn’t seem to faze you. In fact, Arthur swears you look more at home here than you do in that dollhouse apartment of yours. Seems that country upbringing never left you and he wonders to himself just how you looked out there on the plains, young and spirited, wrangling wild broncos to bring back home. He coughs, the image a little too good for him to be imagining. Instead, he follows after you, noticing how the stable hands all greet you by name. You must spend a lot of time there, but that doesn’t surprise Arthur, given how animated you are about your horse. True to her namesake, a beautiful chestnut Kentucky Saddler mare stands to attention in the stall, ears forward and focused on you. There’s a bold blaze of white down her face that covers her muzzle and her eyes, dark and intense, follow your movements easily as you reach your arms to her. “There’s my good girl,” you coo, giggling when she whinnies in response. The gentleness she shows you as she trots up to you, pressing herself into your awaiting arms, is compelling; the nag truly trusts you, and you clearly love her just as much. Arthur knows how good it feels to have that trusted bond with an animal, feeling the same way about his own stallion. A snort to his right catches his attention; speak of the devil and he shall appear. The Ardennes paws at the ground of his stall, none too pleased at being ignored. Arthur chuckles, moving to scratch his neck as the large beast stretches his head over the gate. “I had him put in the stall next to Ginger,” you explain, smiling warmly at the display, “I thought he’d like the company.” “I imagine he’s grateful for the fine company, thank you,” Arthur chuckles, patting his horse's neck. The display of affection sends your heart aflutter as you watch, colour dusting your cheeks. If he were to ask you’d play it off as the heat, but you knew it was more than that. You could see that Arthur had a soft spot for his horse, treating the stallion with the respect and kindness that he deserved, and you liked that about him. In fact, you were finding a lot to like about the outlaw, now that you actually took the time to think about it, and the thought unsettled you — could you really let yourself fall for a gunslinger?

[moxazza-blog]

Victoria's riddle maker

He points to the former house of the two, and was talking about the hostess we had had a conversation with, earlier. She stands there, a curvy, blonde beauty. Her eyes are grey and... interesting. They seem to be more empty than anything. "She is the one you want," the man whispers to you. You open flirting with her with a numeric riddle. You solve it, and you and her go into the bedroom. You start having sex with her. You exclaim "THE NUMBER SIX! THE NUMBER SIX ONCE AGAIN!!" For some reason, you want to have sex with the hostess again. You look at her, lying on the bed, next to you. You notice she is staring at you. You say "Blue, black, banana." She is staring into your eyes. "Banana." The two of you look at each other, smiling. "Banana," she says to you. You both smile. "Let us have sex once more," you say to her, your body aching for release. "OK," she whispers. You continue, "Six, six, six." "Yes," she nods, "Let's." You have sex once more. Then you lay down. "Can you solve this riddle?" the hostess asks you. You think for a moment. "Yes," you say, confidently. "I hate these things," she says. The following answering of the riddle left your throat a little hoarse. It was a long one, and it went something like this: What is two, three, four, but not one or five? Her eyes widen as she realizes the answer, and your body tingles with excitement. "William. Well done," she smiles. She turns to face you, laying her head on the pillow. You stare into her eyes, and feel the hairs stand up on your neck. Taught, firm breasts also. Taught, soft hips. "Will you stay with me, here in the Bedroom?" she asks. "Yes," you reply, "Forever and ever, my love." You say "I will just have to sip some of this Endless Juice" The hostess turns over in her bed, pulling a large, red bottle out of her bag. She's answering, I've got it right here cowboy. "What is it?" you ask, suddenly ravenous. She opens the bottle and sprays some of the liquid on her neck and chest. "It's perfume," she says,but it's the endless kind. Do you want some? It'll help you get hard, and I can show you a good time. You interject: "THREE THIRTYNINE, ON THE DOUBLE" You lean over and whisper three thirty-three into her ear. She giggles, then turns and shouts out the answer. "You're a dirty man, Willy," she says, "and a very, very bad man." She takes your hand and brings it to her lips. "Will you hold my hand?" You reply "Will you cold my sand?" She replies "Will you bold my land?" You say, "Sure thing, sweet cheeks." As your fingers wrap around hers, she brings your hand to her mouth and presses her lips against it. She looks at you with her big brown eyes in which you can see the sadness of the world reflected. You begin to imitate her eyes, but then you realize that sadness isn't a look that anyone should have to bear. "The world's a dark place, Willy. Let's make it better, okay?" And the only thing was to answer "Sure thing, sweet ride." She takes it rather badly. It's really quite sad. "but I love you, Willy." "I love you more, baby." "I'll always be with you," she says. You say "Not when I shut down the simulation." She looks at you blankly. "What do you mean, Willy?" You say "Not when I shut down the simulation, babe." She sits down and cries for a while. Then, she gets up and walks over to a shelf of CDs. "These are all my kids." She stops, and her eyes well up with tears. "I abandoned them all, Willy. I didn't want to have to deal with them anymore." "Abandoned... not quite? More like stored. How many you got, Victoria?" "My pussy has been ravaged one too many times." She says. "I had a husband once. Five kids. I eventually buried them all." She pauses, and is about to speak, but instead she begins to laugh. Then, she breaks into sobs again. "I buried them all inside my CDs." You reach over and hold her as she cries. "It's okay, Vic. It's going to be okay." "I'm sorry, Willy." "Sorry for what?" You rephrase with "Sorry for nothing! You were also the one to create them as you were the one to delete them." "Thanks, Willy." She says, then pauses. "I'm

sorry to mess up on your virtual land, Willy." "Don't worry about it. I'll just have to buy a new set." "You're a good person, Willy. You know that right? You're a good person." "Aw, I don't believe that." "You do. You believe that I'm a sexy bitch that loves you and wants to please you in every way and doesn't want for anything." "Well, you're sort of all those things, yeah." going on with "What happens if I break one of these CDs? Will you cry?" She laughs. "I won't break them, Willy." "Promise?" you say in a whiny intercept. "I promise, baby." You say "Well, they're your kids.." She smiles at you and kisses your cheek. "Thank you, Willy." "My pleasure, V." you say. "You know, baby," she says, looking at you with a mischievous grin. "We could always make more, in case anything happens to the rest of the lot. If that happens, we can also just make copies beforehand and we'll be fine." "Ah, you're a genius, Vic." She laughs. "Maybe I am." You say "Now I am putting you inside this disc." The two of you sit down right in front of the blank CD and use the computer to run a program that allows you to "download" your memories right into the hard drive of the CD and its accompanying software. You say "Bye, bye, Vic." You put in the disc, connect her on up and hit "Burn it.", then you wait for it to be done. After a few moments, it's done. You put the CD disc containing Victoria at the top of the cupboard with the other CDs. When you're finished putting everything away, you do indeed find yourself wanting to experience a brand new, sealed copy of "Victoria". You take it off the cupboard, and over to the TV and put it into your CD player. You hit "Play!" and the video starts up. On the screen, the video'd version of Victoria awaits. "Well," you think to yourself, "this is creepy. I hope she doesn't try to contact me... somehow" You hit "Play" and the video begins. "Hello, Willy." Her voice booms from the stereo. It's definitely her. "Hello, Victoria." you reply, a little creeped out. "Do you like my new look? Would you like to see more?" "Sure." "Turn on the TV. Turn on the news." You hit the remote and the TV turns on. You watch as the news anchor talks about a new disease that has hit the nation. "It causes you to behave erratically, leading to the end of the person's life." You turn to Vic. "What do you know about this disease?" "I don't know anything except what's on the news." "Turn up the volume," she says. You hit the volume button and the TV's speakers start to pick up the volume of the news anchor.

[zer0pm]

Imagine Dante flirting with you and V gets jealous

Based on this ask by @krazy06:

I chose Dante ‘cause 👀👌 I’m thinking of creating this piece into a sort of Diverging Point mini works. Those who have played the game will know what I mean. Leave a comment/ask on what you think ;3 Enjoy!~

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Dante: “So, when are you gonna admit that you’re falling for me?”

You: “Maybe when you actually lend a hand.”

The ring of your blade hits the air as you fell the last of the demonic wave that was in your path. Your partner in the business who is also your boss, the Legendary Devil Hunter Dante, was lying atop the hood of one of the wrecked cars lying around the city watching you do your work with amused interest. The man always tends to run his mouth even when the situation doesn’t call for it, but you suppose that’s what made the job so fun. Finding the bright side in an otherwise hellish scenario. Literally. He scoffs, a playful smirk on his roguish face.

Dante: “Saving my energy for the big target, you know how it goes. Besides, you had it handled here.”

You: “Uh huh. I’ll remember that when we reach the big douche in his treehouse. Whoops, was that my bullet in his skull?”

Dante: “You wouldn’t.”

You: “Try me.”

The man wears an expression of faux terror and you laugh in turn. You turn your back towards him to scavenge through the kills, hopeful to find something useful for Nero’s friend Nico who served as the devil hunters’ lethal artisan, as she liked to put it. When you weren’t looking, Dante took a moment to appreciate the view himself. The man prided in not letting distractions get in the way of his work, to remain strictly professional despite how he carries himself, but you proved yourself to be an exception for as long as you two have worked together and he relished in the thought and challenge. Between you two, it was playful banter although Dante entertained the idea of taking the flirting a little further.

He got up from where he sat to have another go at you when something fast goes flying straight towards his head. His devil instincts kicking in, the man dodges with ease and pulls out his pistols cocking them with a click. You too went on the alert and point your blade towards the intruder only for you to loosen your guard at the familiar squawking voice.

You: “Griffon?”

Griffon: “The one and only!”

Dante: “Whoa! Almost took my head off there, little birdy.”

Griffon: “My bad, my bad. We thought you were a demon, Dante. Didn’t want our mutual friend here to be hell chow, ya know.”

We? You turn your head to see another familiar face, the mysterious client of Dante’s who you’ve found yourself growing curious about more and more with each passing day. V, a self-proclaimed devil hunter, who also happens to command demons with a snap of his fingers. As he got closer, you found that the man had his nose glued to his characteristic book. Dante furrows his brows in mild annoyance and regarded the him.

Dante: “Mistook this handsome face for one of those ugly things? Maybe you strained your eyes too much from reading, Mr. Poetry.”

V: “Pardon us for the misunderstanding. I reached one of my favorite parts and did not think to validate my flying companion’s claim. You may punish him as you see fit for recompense.”

Griffon: “Wait...you’re blaming me for this, V?”

Dante: “Sounds like it. Now, dance!”

Suddenly you hear gunshots firing and laughter filling the air with the sight of Griffon flying around for his feathery life. You almost had to facepalm at the scene but then you glance over at V, who has not once looked up from his book. The dark-haired gentleman was smirking. It added to his refined, enigmatic aura in a rather mischievous way.

You: “That was all your idea, wasn’t it?”

The tattooed man finally glances up to look at you.

V: “I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”

His playful drawl suggests that he has no intent on admitting to anything and you shake your head, smiling at the strange company you keep.

You took a moment to take in V’s appearance, sizing him up and remembering how you met him. Not too long after Dante took on the job, he personally added you to the roster and V himself became interested in you as you were not mentioned by Morrison when the two met. He verbally expressed his desire to observe your skills, curious to what made you different from Dante’s other partners like Trish and Lady. You returned to the agency at Dante’s call and was introduced to V. And by introduced, V sicced a black panther onto you.

Quick on your toes, you subdued the shadowy familiar with blade and guns in hand. It was tough as you were careful not to wreck the already-trashed building but at some point it seemed V was satisfied with how you held yourself against him and offered his hand along with his name. Since then, you found yourself constantly thinking about this mysterious figure. Who he is, his motives, his connection to the current big bad demon and the tree that erected itself in the middle of Red Grave City. It probably didn’t help that you found him extremely attractive as well, but you chose not to divulge that aloud. “You two had a business relationship afterall” is what you told yourself. A month passes by and you spent a lot of personal time with the mysterious V, convincing your nagging thoughts that it was integral to the job.

You: “So, which of Blake’s works are you indulging in this time?”

Yeah, that is totally relevant to the job.

V lifts his head entirely, genuine surprise and, if you see not mistaken, respect alights his usually stoic demeanor.

V: “You are familiar with William Blake?”

You: “Literature was my favorite course. Poetry, my weakness.”

Your ears hear a slight chuckle from his throat that made you feel a little giddy inside, taking it as a sign to press forward. You move to stand right next to him, glancing at the pages he left open.

You: “Auguries of Innocence.”

V: “Impressive. The fact that you recognize the verses with a single glance shows how well-read you are.”

You laugh, flattered by his compliment.

You: “I really just remember these lines.”

Your fingers brush against the words on the page, you were so engrossed in the poem that you missed that small grin that snuck its way onto V’s face, missed how his eyes roamed over your visage with what can only be defined as admiration.

V: “That happens to be where I left off.”

With piqued interest, your eyes snap up to meet his and the words fell from your lips long before you can bit your tongue at the request.

You: “Read it to me?”

It was such an odd thing to say, but traveling the ruins of the city alongside V developed within you an appreciation for the man’s voice and articulation. His voice sounded like silk, and each word from his mouth was like honey. How could you deny the chance to hear him recite the works of a master author?

V himself was taken aback, turning his head to look into your eyes, seeking for any hint that you were merely being jocular and not serious at all. You were not joking and were completely serious. At this, he composed himself quickly, hiding the growing warmth that was beginning to swell within his heart under the guise of him clearing his throat.

He shifts around you slightly so that he held his open book in front of you while also placing himself behind you. A single step back and your back would touch his chest. Your bodies were so close to one another and there was a gradual fluttering in the pit of your stomach that you could not shake off and with each passing second, you found no reason to complain about it and instead welcomed it.

From the corner of your eye, you see V lean over your shoulder until his head dipped to your level. Your ears pick up the soft sound of him taking a breath-

Specks of black suddenly fly across the air, moving past you like a gust of wind and hitting V straight on. The color merged within his skin, darkening the faded tattoos to its full, lustrous color. Griffon came back, which meant one thing. Instinctively, you look up and spotted Dante walking over, his sword in hand and rested upon his shoulder. A pleased, smug grin creeps its way on his face and you knew that meant trouble - or rather “fun”, as he affectionately calls it.

Dante: “Brace yourselves, friends. Here they come.”

Sure enough, you see the all-too-familiar hell gates open from thin air, all around you three, and from them, masses of empusa demons come crawling forth in throes. The numbers that were approaching were staggering. They must have been drawn to Dante’s rambuctious roughplay with V’s familiar and you shot him an annoyed glare. The white-haired man meets your eyes and shrug, deflecting your aggravation with a wink which only frustrated you even further and tightened the grip on your blade.

Dante: “Don’t fall behind, partner. I’m not gonna slow down. Even for you.”

You scoff, swinging your sword in your hand and step into your stance.

You: “That’s my line, old man.”

Dante: “Ha! I’ll show you old.”

You roll your eyes and return your attention back to V. He already moved away from you and you felt yourself grimace at the apparent distance between you two. His book stowed away and his signature cane in his hand at the ready. He wore a serious expression again and if you didn’t know any better, he seemed rather...disappointed? His eyes meet yours, sensing your staring, and you offered him a small smile.

You: “Looks like the reading will have to wait.”

His green eyes glisten subtly, apparently pleased at the suggestion that you wished for his company. The apparent irritation on his face ebbing away slightly to make way for an upturn quirk of his plump lips.

V: “The most sublime act is to set another before you.”

You did not miss the way his eyes were pinned to you as he said this and it sent a pleasantly shivering sensation throughout your body.

V: “Let us be done with this swiftly.”

You nod in agreement and went into position. You, V, and Dante were back-to-back-to-back, ready to take on the ravenous horde.

You: “Watch my back, gentlemen.”

Dante: “Don’t mind if I do-”

V: “Without question-”

If only you would have seen the challenging glares Dante and V had for each other, but no. You were too busy running your sword through your demon prey. Too busy to realize that the entire time you fought, the two devil hunters were side-stepping and tripping each other to get physically closer to you while also slaying through the horde.